#because caring about Everything is unrealistic and you will go Insane and lose your own self if you try to feel for too many other things

[haarute]

i'm sorry but as someone who is always trying to understand most things and most people, the reaction a lot of folks have of immediately dismissing something or jumping to an outrage without having a second to try to reflect on a situation or process empathy is something that i will never relate to and i consider to be a bad mentality to have if left unchecked actually

[lesbianrobin]

So hot take but... Hopper IS abusive. He’s not an abusive CHARACTER, like Billy and his dad are written to be, but he’s emotionally and psychologically abusive to El in the scene he tells her he could send her back to the lab. It’s for a lot of reasons - his anger issues he’s never dealt with, his trauma from losing Sarah and being in a war, his own resurfacing “anniversary effect“ - but I think it’s really important that people stop down-playing abusive behaviour, especially in parents, just (1

2) because they’re not villains. What he does is abuse, and how El reacts to it is very realistic. What I think is more important, and makes me disagree (respectfully) with your bullet point about him being worse in season two, is that they let him have scenes that show how hard he’s trying with her, and, most importantly, where he apologizes to her, and shows that he’s doing the work to be better. He’s not really a good or bad parent, but season two Hopper was doing his best in an impossible situation with no help, and he recognized that and was trying to be better. This is why season three Hopper was, to me, the worst: he’s still as angry and violent, but he’s allowed to swagger around and be framed as right, never apologizes once, we don’t see him with El enough to know how much progress he’s made, and his anger issues are played for laughs now (like a lot of things in season three that shouldn’t have been). I guess it’s the framing that I have the biggest problem with; he doesn’t have to try any more, or acknowledge how he hurts the people (girls and women) around him. He’s not okay, but season two Hopper knew that and wanted to be better for El, and season three Hopper seems to embrace it. 

You’ve given me a lot to work with here and I don’t know what to say!! I can definitely see where you’re coming from, and I thank you for sending such a well-thought-out ask. Before I get into this, I’d like to say that I am not an abuse survivor myself, and if you have experience with abuse and see Hopper in a certain way, I absolutely respect that and I think you have the right to interpret his behavior however you want, because he’s a fictional character! We can disagree!

People all have different ideas of what constitutes abuse and abusive behavior, and I personally don’t think that Hopper is ever abusive, because I think that calling him as such implies a pattern of extreme behavior that I don’t believe exists. I think that he has issues. I think that he does things that hurt El, but there’s a difference, to me, between harmful/unhealthy behaviors and abusive ones. My own parents have, at times, yelled at me, taken away things that I care about, and said cruel things that hurt me, like Hopper in S2. I would never go so far as to call them abusive, though, because these instances were not the norm, my everyday life is generally peaceful, they don’t intend to intimidate or harm me, and I understand that parents are just as capable of making mistakes as anybody. This same reasoning applies to Hopper.

Hopper most certainly has issues with anger, and he should not have yelled and belittled her the way he did, but it is El who escalates their argument to physical threat. He’s an asshole, but he’s not abusive. I think that he was short-sighted and struggled to understand how isolation would affect El, when he himself generally lived a rather isolated life and didn’t see the issue, and I think that he struggled with establishing age-appropriate rules with El. He treated her like a little kid sometimes and like an adult others, because his own daughter died when she was half El’s age and he’s only been around adults since then. Abuse implies, to me, patterns of unreasonably controlling and harmful behavior, but that isn’t what I see in Hopper’s relationship with El. 

He only really gets angry with her in S2 when she endangers herself unnecessarily, and I want to emphasize just how reasonable his fears are. Benny was murdered in cold blood just because he saw El. Hopper knows that there is an incredibly real chance that if El is seen, she will be kidnapped by the government and tortured for the rest of her life. I think the worst thing he does in S2 is tell El that he could send her back to the lab, and while he shouldn’t have said it, it was very clearly an empty threat, considering the fact that he’s only angry with her because she took a risk that might have resulted in her being taken again by the lab. It’s like when most parents say, “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it, too.” A fucked up thing to say? Yes! Abusive? No, not in my opinion. He’s overprotective, but it’s extremely reasonable considering El’s situation, and he takes steps to correct this behavior between S2 and S3, allowing El to come and go more or less freely and spend time with her friends and boyfriend so long as she’s safe and smart about it and keeps him notified of her location.

In S3, we don’t get to see El with Hopper much, but he seems to have relaxed a lot as indicated by the fact that she’s allowed to do whatever she wants with her friends as long as they stay away from big crowds, and he DOES make an effort to speak with her and Mike and have a heart-to-heart! I think that it would have been unrealistic for him to pull a complete 180 between S2 and S3, and it seems to me like he’s continuing to do his best while struggling with his own issues. I think they went overboard with his threatening Mike, but once again, I don’t think it crosses a line into abuse territory. Hopper set reasonable rules as a parent, rules which El and Mike flouted, and while he shouldn’t have lost his cool, he wasn’t intentionally trying to distance El from her friends/boyfriend or trying to control her behavior any more than is reasonable as the parent of a 13/14-year-old girl whose boyfriend knows a hell of a lot more about the world than she does, and who tends to trust her boyfriend’s word and follow his lead on everything. I think that his restrictions are reasonable, and while he loses his temper sometimes, he never intimidates El, he doesn’t try to seriously threaten her, he tries to teach her so that she can be safe and self-sufficient, and he knows that he has issues and is making an effort to improve.

So, basically, I believe Hopper is making an effort with El in S3, and he’s doing better than he did in S2. It’s not something that can or should change overnight, and I find it pretty realistic that he continues to struggle with his anger and control issues even while he adjusts his behavior with El to be better.

Thank you again for sending this ask! I obviously have a lot more thoughts, but I don’t want this post to be insanely long, so I’ll end it here lmao

[hobiwonder]

kiss my soul | (m)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut. Incubus!Namjoon. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, marijuana use, first time, unrealistically good first time bc it’s namjoon and he’s a demon lol

Summary: Namjoon needed a fix. He needed it fast before the consequences were fatal.

a/n: it’s here finally. i hope you guys semi enjoy this! let me know what you think and don’t forget to check out other stories in this collab :) this was a last minute story lol rbfgbieeifhwkf. I incorporated the first time request in this story as well.

“You sure you don’t want to come? I heard everyone is going.” Soobin is wiggling her eyebrows at you while she rummages through the same pile of clothes for the tenth time, probably thinking she’ll come across something new.

“That’s what you say every time.” You try not to be rude and roll your eyes at her but it was true. This wasn’t the first party she had said the exact same thing about. Finally grabbing the little black dress she’d been eyeing, she’s plopping on the bed next to you, almost knocking over your laptop.

“Yeah but, this time everyone will be there. Like, the seniors, football team and,” she hesitates slightly but not out of fear or uncertainty, “Kim Namjoon.” She whispers his name like it was a secret that only a few people knew in murmurs and gossip. Maybe that’s why it sends a slight shiver down your spine hearing the campus dealer’s name again. He was definitely not the crowd you mingled with. Or knew how to mingle with.

“So? It’s not like I know him…” Of course, Soobin won’t leave it alone, only sighing in exasperation when she didn’t really need to be this dramatic.

“And you never will if you stay cooped up in this room! Come on! Just go this once? You need some friends.”

“I have friends.” Your mumble is barely tangible but she has probably memorised the shape of your lips whenever they form these exact same words.

“Other than me.” Her glare can be felt on your back – that you’ve turned as she changes. She doesn’t mind you watching but you definitely did. You wouldn’t want anyone seeing you naked while you change so god knows how she can handle it.

“You know that I don’t really have problems with just one friend, right? This is why-”

“-Why you started mid-year so you wouldn’t have to be forced into making friends yeah yeah.” She’s waving her hand in dismissal but you only send her a sweet smile.

“See? You get it. Now go and have fun drinking, dancing and… whatever it is that you do there.” Soobin just scoffs at your nonchalant shrug, curling her hair while she watches you in the mirror.

After about 3 minutes, you’re starting to get jittery at her stares. “Okay, what?”

“If you go to one party with me I won’t annoy you anymore.” Exhaling, you’re actually kind of considering this. Maybe you can get her off your back about being ‘out there’ if you just show up to one.

“Fine. I’ll go but-” her face is lighting up like a hundred watt bulb until you put up your finger to slow down whatever plan is running through her head. “Not today. The next one.”

She’s shrieking as she lunges for you, hugging you tightly like you told her she won a million dollars or something. “I can accept that. Eee! I’m so excited.”

Her excitement is a little contagious and for some reason you feel yourself looking forward to actually going. Maybe it won’t be that bad after all. As long as you had her to guide you through. This was not your forte and you’d never been to any sort of party other than prom.

“Promise you won’t ditch me? I have never been to a party before.” You figured there was no way of hiding that fact anymore and judging by her face she probably expected it too.

“I won’t! But I honestly can’t understand how you’ve been so oblivious to the social side of college or even high school. Did you guys not have parties?”

“Well, my town was pretty small. And my mom is very,” you try to find the right words that don’t sound as harsh as they did in your mind, “conservative. So I didn’t really do much back home.” Shrugging your shoulders, you feel the wave of nostalgia crash when you remember the simpler life back home a couple hours from your university and even a slight disdain for your mother for keeping you so sheltered that just even the thought of attending a gathering of people outside of class gave you anxiety.

“Hey, it’s okay. This is college and you’re far away from your mom. So, time to do everything that you were told not to.” Her eyebrows are wiggling again and you can’t help but laugh at her goofy face.

“No thanks. I’ll stick to trying to have my first drink. Or not. I hope I don’t die.” Could one die from having a drink of alcohol in their 20s? Was that too late?

“Oh stop. You’ll be fine. You have to try everything once okay?” you opt for paying attention to the laptop screen as you take notes from the lecture that you missed.

“Y/N!”

“Fine! Gosh. As long as they aren’t narcotics, I’ll… give it a try? Wait not. I’m scared.” You lean back, making a horrified face when the image of you passed out on some fraternity’s couch floods your brain. Okay maybe you have a completely wrong perception of college culture.

“No need to.” Soobin is getting up to finish up her makeup as she continues. “As long as you get the stuff from Namjoon, you’ll be on cloud 9 babe. He’s the real deal.”

In the few months you’ve been here, you’ve heard the mysterious name more than a dozen times and all those times, it had been in whispers. You had yet to see him up close because the glimpse you got the other week while you were coming back to your dorm from the pharmacy was too good to be true. All his angles had been sharp as glass, lips plump and made you bite yours, body proportions that you’d only seen on super models in the many magazines Soobin read. He was so beautiful you’d stopped in your tracks until your eyes had locked with his own, catching you staring at him like a fool. You remembered the way all the blood in your body had rushed to your cheeks and yet, all this movement of your blood in your body didn’t translate in to your limbs moving with it. You’d been frozen on spot, looking back in to his dark eyes until Soobin had clutched your arm, shrieking in your ear about Kim Namjoon.

Maybe you saw him at night so he looked better than he actually was? You’re hoping that’s true because you’re not sure you can really enjoy a party he’s at since your body seems to grow restless around his presence. It’s like it knows that Namjoon is in close proximity. He makes your blood sing and you want nothing more than to get closer.

“Who exactly.. is he?” Soobin is taking in a sharp breath as if just remembering him brings her great gratification.

“He’s a senior in Music. Resident dealer that has a seemingly endless supply of weed. But he adds something to it. No one knows what it is but it’s damn good. Plus, he only sleeps with you if it’s your first time. In fact, I lost my virginity to him. It was almost…. Supernatural.”

Her sigh of contentment is very telling when she doesn’t say anything else for the next few minutes, seeming to be in deep thought remembering the said moment. Your own cheeks are going red at the mention of losing virginity because you certainly haven’t lost yours yet.

“What if it’s harmful? Do people not care?” She shrugs again.

“Nothing has happening to anyone yet. His older brother dealt the same thing. Plus, it’s not like he’s forcing you to take it. Unsurprisingly, his clientele is mostly females since most of the guys hate that he pulls.”

“That sounds very cliché. Hot guy every other guy hates and every girl loves? There must be a catch.”

“There is. I just told you about it. He only sleeps with virgins.” She’s pouting at you like it’s such a great inconvenience for her that she isn’t.

“But why?” You couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that a very experienced man would want to sleep with very inexperienced women. You thought it was the exact opposite?

“I don’t know.” She seems to be thinking over that fact for the first time too. Like she hadn’t questioned it before. “I don’t know of anyone who’s slept with him twice. Oh other than Hyuna. Though she’s hot on another level so I can see why he would say yes to her. I’d totally bang her.”

Your cheeks are screaming once again at the mention of the – yes, insanely attractive – female. She seemed to hang around that crowd too since you never really saw her outside of that group. Only glimpses.

“Are they dating by any chance?” While you talk to Soobin, you open another tab on your laptop, typing the two names that you both were having a conversation about and bookmark the facebook page that shows up. You’ll have to look these people up if you were going to come face to face with them. Soobin’s snort however, snaps you out of your little bookmark spree and you close the lid shut when she walks to the side where her heels and other shoes were lined up.

“No way. She is just like Namjoon. She sleeps with guys once and then moves on. Maybe Namjoon is just one of those guys who’s all in to purity and shit.”

“Weird.” You can’t help but mumble as you think over her response.

“Weird but hot. If only he’d let me in his pants again.” She’s groaning as you roll your eyes once more at her. She always sounds like she’s in chronic pain when she isn’t getting laid.

“It can’t have been that much better than other guys you’ve… been with.” You wince at your hesitation. Hoping to not offend her but she just giggles in response.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to be mad at you for little things like this y/n. And to answer your question,” she falls back down on the bed once again as she stairs up at the ceiling wistfully, “Yes. It was. It’s like I don’t remember anything at all but at the same time I do. It was almost… magical. I know it sounds cheesy but I can just remember that it was the best night of my life.”

You’re so pulled in to her story, leaning your head on your palms as you listen to her recall her first time. Would it be like this for you too? Would he be that great?

“Is someone thinking about doing the dirty with Namjoon?” She’s whistling at your reddening face and you don’t even try to deny the fact that you’d been fantasising about it.

“W-When you say it like that.” You don’t meet her inquisitive eyes as she just laughs, turning her gaze back to the ceiling and pulling you with her so you both stared up like the white paint held some sort of profound meaning and answers to life.

“I felt like I was high but I don’t remember taking anything before. Maybe I did? I don’t know. I just felt like I was floating and it didn’t hurt at all. Felt really sore the next day though.” She turned to face you, making a face in distaste.

“My head hurt like a bitch and I had to like, take a few days and rest. But that was probably my hangover.” Soobin just shrugs and gets up, putting on her high heels and grabbing her purse.

“My point is, you’re lucky you have the option to have your first time with someone like Namjoon.”

“I-I never said I wanted to.” You’re getting up from the bed to lock the door once she’s gone. Hoping that you’ve made a face strict enough that she believes you even just a little bit that you didn’t want anything physical to do with Kim Namjoon. He sounded like…. Too much for you.

“You say that now. We’ll see! Bye, don’t wait up!” She’s giggling as she runs off with the other girls standing and waiting in the hallway.

“I won’t.” You’re just mumbling to yourself as you close the door, heart slightly pounding and you’d only been just talking about the mysterious Namjoon.

Not long after, you’re climbing back on to your bed, bringing the bookmarked tabs back up as Namjoon’s sultry eyes appear once again. Scrolling through his profile, the information there is limited. You don’t find much more than just a picture that had been uploaded 4 years ago. Had he not changed it? Maybe he wanted it that way because of the ‘business’ he was involved in. There are a couple of other pictures taken in the same year with Hyuna and a few other men that you recognize from campus as well. You’d only seen them around once or twice but never at day time either. It was obvious they were a clique.

In each photo, Namjoon seemed to look intensely at the camera. You’re mesmerized momentarily, just by a picture. Watching his droopy eyes looking right back at you. What was is about his eyes that reeled you in so? You never wanted to look away and yet you wanted to scroll away at the same time. In fact, all the men in the picture gazed intensely at the camera lens as if they knew someone was looking back at them. Just imagining that face above yours sends a shiver down your spine and quickly, you’re exiting out of the tab. Too overwhelmed. If you were going to feel this overwhelmed from just one picture that maybe you couldn’t do this.

You were probably over thinking it. Maybe you won’t even come in to contact with him at all. And who said he’ll even take a liking to you? You were pretty average in all aspects. Yeah maybe a little above average in your studies but that was it, really. So it probably won’t be the way you were thinking. Like he was going to pick you, specifically, out of the crowd and ask to take away your virginity.

“Namjoon.” Unknowingly, you’d been whispering his name as thoughts of him ran through your head. Why was there such little information about him online when so many people seem to know him? You didn’t understand.

You phone pings indicating you’d received a message. Bringing up your phone, you see a photo message from Soobin. Clicking on the image to load, her smiling face pops up with a couple of other girls from your area standing beside her, smiling up at the camera. Smiling, you’re just about to lock your phone again until a certain pair of eyes have you doing a double take at the photo.

Clicking the image and dragging two of your fingers apart to enlarge the photo, you can clearly see Namjoon’s familiarly intense eyes peering in to yours. Your blood runs cold just for a moment as you blink a few times to make sure he was actually looking at the camera or just somewhere beside. But even blinking a few times doesn’t make the intense pair of eyes go away or look somewhere else. He was definitely looking in to the camera.

Your eyebrows furrow at how eerie it was that you’d been just looking at his photos and now.. he was looking in to the camera like he knew the photo was being sent to you. Like he knew… your phone is suddenly dropping from your clutch as you bring your hands up to your mouth, eyes wide. Wait could he know? What if there was some sort of software that told you who was looking at your page? Was your webcam hacked? You shake your head at that thought when you see the band aid on the camera lens. No way anyone was able to see anything. You were just being paranoid. This is why you didn’t want to go outside and socialise.

“This is exactly why you have to socialise!” Soobin is shrieking at you – while you try not to bleed out of your ears -  as she curls your hair. It was a week after you’d agreed to attend one of the many parties held at the frats every Saturday. Soobin had come home last week and hadn’t been able to shut up since about how boring the party was since Namjoon and his crew of attractive men were apparently not there despite you having seen him in the background of the picture you saw. When you’d tried to show her what you meant, she’d still hadn’t been able to see his sparkly eyes in the background. Much of your time had been spent since then to try and convince her that Namjoon was definitely there in the photo.

“I don’t see him y/n. You just want him so badly that you’re seeing things.” She’s singing mockingly – playfully – as she curls the last few bits of your long hair. You were wearing the shortest dress you owned – it reached just above the knees – and unsurprisingly, it was white. The tops were lace that framed your décolletage modestly. The only ‘immodest’ thing you could see that your mother would definitely scold you about were the spaghetti straps. It was the closest thing you owned to a dress that didn’t look like you were going to church. Which you still hadn’t gone to ever since you’d arrived in the city. You really needed to go to the nearest community church and introduce yourself. Your mother’s incessant voice was scolding and shaming you in the back of your head the longer you stalled. Tomorrow you definitely will.

“I’m not! I don’t know what’s wrong with your eyes. He is in the back it’s so obvious.” You can’t help the pout when you’re trying to convince her for the thousandth time that you saw him looking straight in the camera but somehow she can’t see him. You hadn’t even told her about the dreams you’d had of him every night this past week. Watching yourself walk a dimly lit pathway in a strange building until you reached the room he sat in. Every dream ended as soon as you opened the door, never being able to quite have good look apart from a glimpse of Namjoon’s face.

“Y/n, he wasn’t even there so I don’t know how you saw him let alone him looking straight in to the camera. Don’t you think I would’ve noticed him when I was sending it to you?”

You shrug, wincing when she pulls on a tendril a little too hard. “Maybe you were too drunk.”

“I wish. It was pretty tame and boring last week. So no. I wasn’t drunk.” She’s glaring at you through the mirror while you just avert your gaze. Maybe you were confused… hm.

“Okay! All done. Now, let me quickly change and we’ll go.” She’s scurrying off to change in the bathroom for once and you just look at the final result in the mirror.

You looked pretty but still you. You who was very unaware and ignorant to the life you were about to go experience. Maybe you should adjust the way you stand so you don’t look completely like a fish out of water?

“What are you doing weirdo.” Soobin is chuckling behind you while you quickly straighten up.

“I don’t know. I look so… me. I feel like ‘I’m a virgin’ is written across my forehead or something.”

“You’re fine babe.” She’s squeezing your shoulder from behind as she smiles kindly at you. She was gorgeous. She looked gorgeous in no matter what she wore so maybe it was easy for her to say. But nonetheless, your nerves ease enough for you to grab your purse as you both lock hands and walk out.

When you both arrive, the heavy bass can be almost felt from outside the building. Crowds of people loitering the front porch and your nerves are already kicking in.

“Soo…,” you sound just as unsure as you felt. There were bodies everywhere and you could feel your anxiety about to kick in. You were so out of depth.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be fun!” She’s smiling widely at you as she grabs your hand, leading you inside ahead of you. Both of you have to slide between bodies of strangers who are dancing, drinking or doing both. While Soobin seems to slither away with ease as she smiles charmingly, saying hi to some and ‘excuse me’ to some, you feel the exact opposite. You’re sure your face looks horrified to some degree and the curious looks from other people just confirms your suspicion.

“Gosh, it’s packed today!” She’s looking around happily, having to scream a little so you can hear her.

“Y-Yeah.” Your nervous laugh goes unnoticed in the loud booming noise of the sultry music.

“I’m glad you came with me this week and not last.” She’s laughing as she flips her hair, watching the two boys who were looking her way ever since you two stopped near anther hallway.

“Yeah I’m not so sure..” looking around, you don’t see a single familiar face. You can definitely feel people looking at you and probably how out of place you looked but that could also be your brain making you overthink.

“Don’t flake out on me now. I’ll go get us a drink!” Before you can stop her she’s disappeared off to probably where the drinks table was. You remember seeing it when you entered but there were too many people here to figure out on your own where it was. Thinking it safer to stay put than wander around, you lean back against the wall, trying to look around insouciantly at the crowd. As soon as you lock eyes with one of the boys dancing on the floor, your gaze is turning down and you take out your phone to fiddle with it while waiting for Soobin.

Unknowingly, you pull up the picture that she had sent last week and instantly, you can see Namjoon’s eyes once more.

“How…,” you keep exiting out of the messages app and entering again just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. And you definitely weren’t. Where was Soobin? You needed to show her this. Looking up, you walk forward a little bit, hoping to see her among the crowd but you can’t see anything in this dim light. What you do see, however, is how familiar the hallway besides you looked. Trying to rake your brain for answers, you decide to have a look. Why did it feel like you’d been here before when this was your first time coming to this frat house?

You walk a little further towards the darker hallway, lit with a dim yellow light right at the end of it. All breath is sucked out of you when you realise where you’d seen it before. Every marking on the wall starts to come back to you when you remember the exact place you’d been dreaming about this past week. You can feel the skin of your arm raising up in goosebumps, mouth running dry as you continue to stare. How did you dream about a place you’d never seen before? How was this possible. What was even more eerie was how your body had started to take you further in to the hallway as if moving on its own accord. You find yourself bracing your hands against the walls as you walk forward, reaching the end of the hallway. With every step, you felt yourself growing calmer and calmer.

Why did you feel like this was what you were supposed to do? You didn’t even know where you were going but your feet seemed to. Somehow, you’d lost all control of your body and you weren’t nearly as scared as you thought you would be. Turning to the right where you saw a door, just like in your dream, you walk further towards it. Your fingers reach forward on the handle as you gulp in the saliva that had pooled in your mouth all of a sudden. When you open the door, even though you know to some extent what will greet you, you still close your eyes, afraid that this unnerving coincidence was not that at all. A coincidence.

“Hello, y/n.” The deep, euphonious voice sends a shiver down your spine so violently that you’re stumbling forward in the room, breath held but eyes finally open and coming face to face with Namjoon. How did you know he would be here? How did he know your name? Did he know you were coming in? He sure sounded like he was expecting you. And just as you had expected before, you were awestruck at his beauty and once again, his sharpest and the most attractive feature were his smouldering eyes. Looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

“H-Hi?”

“She’s cute.” Your head jerks towards the female voice and the blush creeps up on your skin furiously when you see her on the lap of another man who you would think looked a bit forlorn with her on his lap if it wasn’t for the possessive way he was holding on to her.

“And all mine.” Namjoon sounds even more menacing than he looks while the girl in question, who you recognize as Hyuna, just smirks and resumes placing kisses on the boy’s long neck. You should be turning away and running out. This was no place for you with Namjoon sitting on the couch, legs splayed like he owned the place while unfamiliar girls sat at each side, kissing his neck, caressing his hair.

This was too scandalous for you and yet your eyes took in their every lustful look. “Come on. Don’t be shy, y/n.”

Something about his smile is so reassuring and has such a calming effect on you once again that you’re walking forward with ease, almost in a trance until you come to a halt in front of him. What was happening to you? You were being so reckless and yet, you physically couldn’t stop yourself. For all you knew, he could be a murderer. Oh god.

It’s not until you’ve been tugged down on his lap that you snap out of your inner monologue and notice the thick smoke surrounding you, lacing the air that you breathe in. It didn’t reek heavily of marijuana and you wonder if it’s because of that ‘secret’ ingredient that Soobin said Namjoon used. When his hands slither around your waist, you can feel your flesh getting covered in goosebumps, skin feeling like it had been electrified where he touched. Your back straightened slightly at the contact, in turn pushing out your chest involuntarily closer to his.

“H-How do you know m-my name?” Namjoon just continues to stare you down, a playful smile on his lips as his other hand also clambers up your thigh where your dress had ridden up a fair bit.

“Don’t be like this, love. You know we’ve met before.” Your breathing had picked up significantly and you think you might faint as your mind wanders back to the strange dreams you’ve been having. And the photo… Namjoon has not broken character. He’s as put together as you’re about to lose it. His warm hands caressing your back and thigh are not helping. Not to forget the salacious noises coming from Hyuna and her boytoy who are now locked in a heavy embrace.

“T-That’s not possible. I-I have to go. I-” you’re shaking your head while closing your eyes for just a second to gather your thoughts. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea.

“Y/n.” Your body halts where it is on his lap at his commanding tone. “Sit. Here, take this, darling.”

You can see him reaching besides him where the smoking cigarette lay, almost looking like a cigar, before bringing the sweet smelling stick towards you. Namjoon makes sure to keep his eyes locked on to yours when he parts his luscious lips, wrapping them tantalising around the thick object and takes in a deep drag while his eyes close as well. It’s the single most erotic thing you’d seen tonight. Or maybe ever. You’re mesmerised as you watch him hold in the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds before he’s bringing his face even closer to yours and then blowing the smoke gently, right on to your face.

Your eyes close on instinct, anticipating a foul smell or for your eyes to burn. But as surprising as everything else tonight, no such thing happens. Instead, you can feel yourself breathing the sweet yet earthy scent in even deeper, lungs seeming to not be able to get enough of the thick smoke inside. When your eyes open, you find Namjoon’s sparkling ones staring right at you.

“You want more?” There is no question about you being under the influence of something at this stage. Whatever it was that Namjoon was making you inhale – it was messing with your brain and making you that much more receptive to everything that was happening. You didn’t feel the need to suddenly get up and go. Instead, your hands found purchase on the silk of his shirt as he took in another deep drag of the cigar. You had your eyes closed, ready for the gust of smoke to hit your nostrils but instead, you feel Namjoon’s nimble fingers taking a hold of your chin as your eyes fall open in surprise.

The next thing he does almost makes you faint but you just hang on to him tighter, knuckles turning white as he taps his fingers on to your lips in a signal for you to part them. Your eyes are wide, a small moan escaping your mouth that’s painted red and then – Namjoon is exhaling the thick translucent smoke right in to your mouth. You could feel the warmth of his lips that almost touched yours and the closeness only makes you yearn to have them locked with yours.

“You liked that baby?” Every movement from his mouth can faintly be felt on your lips – that’s how close he is. But for some reason, he doesn’t close the distance. Though the strange wetness between your thighs makes you want to rub them together until you would no doubt chafe them. Your shifting on his lap however, has him looking down with you but he doesn’t look as clueless as you. Instead, he’s biting his lip, a heavy hand running down your thigh before running up on the insides of it – dangerously close to your white cotton panties. If you’d known you’d be lured in to Namjoon’s sex dungeon, you would’ve worn something sexier.

The thought has your eyes going wide – remembering Soobin’s words.

He only sleeps with virgins.

Did he plan to have sex with you? Were you ready for that?

Before you can comprehend anything else, you’re blurting out the words as they form on your tongue while the smoke has clouded your brain, giving you courage you otherwise wouldn’t have. “A-Are you going to h-have sex with me?”

His body is rumbling with the laugh that he lets out, head tilting slightly backwards revealing the long column of his throat. You never thought someone just merely laughing – and at you no less – could look this picturesque. His hands have started to play with the hem of your dress while you wait for him to reply. When he finally looks back at you, the playfulness is replaced with something more carnal.

“Do you want me to?” Did you? Your body was humming with need when just an hour ago you weren’t even sure you wanted to stay at the party.

Namjoon’s hand that had been on your thigh was now drawing irregular shapes on the exposed skin, making it harder for you to think straight when each touch of his finger sent a jolt of need straight to your core.

“You don’t exactly have the luxury to choose Namjoon. Don’t be a fool and stop playing with your food.”

Once again you’d forgotten that Hyuna was right behind you but when you see her walking towards the door with the man she’d been with, your nerves come back at the prospect of being left alone with Namjoon. Were you safe here? What did she mean by food? All these questions are running through your head as everyone leaves the room one by one until you’re left completely alone with Namjoon.

He’s staring at you like he wants to devour you and you wonder if Hyuna meant that figuratively. How else could she possibly mean?

“Don’t be scared, love. I’m very gentle.” The way he tilts his head, a small grin on his face – it all makes you forget whatever it was that you were worried about. The burning needs is even more noticeable now as Namjoon’s large hands slip down to your bottom, pulling on your hips to slide you further up his lap.

“Lift up for me, y/n.” His voice is even while your breathing is not. You’ve never been in a compromising position like this with another man let alone one as attractive, terrifying and mysterious as him. Now that your legs were on either side of his body, your dress had all but been shifted up your ass most likely exposing your cotton panties. Not only that but the dampness of your panties was very much getting worse – Namjoon probably able to feel your arousal if he just slipped his hand a little further down. At this point, you were trying to not faint in his lap while under the influence of whatever the mysterious cigar had been – yet, you’re not feeling frightened or even the slightest worry. Instead, the excitement is bubbling deep within your core making you squirm under his heavy gaze.

“You smell divine little bird.” His hands have started to caress your back, fingers dancing along your spine while his gaze holds yours hostage. If you thought staring at his eyes through a photo was overwhelming – looking in to the dark irises now was an entirely different experience. The pounding of your heart is intense and loud – being able to feel your chest ‘thud’ with every beat.

A breath leaves escapes when Namjoon’s hands put pressure on the curve of your back, making your body move in a provocative rhythm with the heavy, muted music that can be heard from outside, making the actions even more wicked. The steady trickle of arousal from your core making your underwear stick to the contours of your pussy as the bundle of nerves situated above grazed the denim of Namjoon’s tight jeans with every roll of your hips. Soon enough, you’ve started to control the rhythm on your own as wicked desire has taken a hold of all of your senses – all worry and apprehension long dissipated in to the thick smoky air.

“N-Namjoon.” His name falls from your lips like a plea and his smirk only deepens as he sits back, settling in to the plush couch while a hand stays at the curve of your back to guide each movement.

“Hmm… you’re really good at this despite your inexperience little bird.” The pet name has you even more bothered. The seemingly innocent nickname rolling off a lot more alluringly from his tongue.

The hardness laying heavy between your legs was the testament to how effected he was too and that was where any indication of how much he was affected – ended. The sensual man looking you over like you’re his personal entertainer was only urging you on further in the roll of your hips. Never having felt any sensations like this before – you’re drunk on the pheromones in the air that was becoming smokier and smokier as Namjoon took deep inhales of the cigar. Your hands are clutching desperately on to Namjoon’s silk shirt with each roll of your hips – not being able to stop the inevitable.

Leaning forward, Namjoon is wrapping his hand around your hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head backwards as he moves even closer. For a mere moment, you could cry with joy thinking he’ll finally kiss you. But alas, the wait is still on as he only exhales the thick smoke in your mouth, dragging his other hand down the middle of your chest as if he was tracing the pathway the smoke was taking inside of you.

“Please,” you didn’t know what you were asking for but for some reason this burning need had replaced the steadily growing arousal. It’s like with every inhale of the thick, sweet smoke, you were becoming desperate for something unknown, something you didn’t know you needed. However, Namjoon seemed to know exactly what he’s doing when he’s sliding off a strap of your dress of your shoulder, pressing hot open mouthed kisses up the column of your throat.

“It’ll be such a shame to ruin you.” His plush lips press a searing kiss underneath your earlobe, sending a chill down your spine. “But I have no choice. I’ve been waiting too long for you.”

Maybe If you weren’t so focused on trying to relieve the growing ache in your core, you would notice Namjoon’s dangerous words. But his actions and words didn’t corroborate each other. Where his words were somewhat threatening and worrying, his touch was soft and sensual – eating away at your rationality until you were a shivering mess in his lap. Your soft groans and needy whimpers only egg him on as he slides the other strap down your shoulder too.

Where you couldn’t even change in front of Soobin – you were being undressed by a man you barely knew and somehow you didn’t care. In a haste – you’re clawing at his shirt, trying to reveal some skin you could taste yourself. Never having been this bold – you even surprise yourself when you start unbuttoning Namjoon’s shirt.

“Slow down little bird. We have all the time in the world.” His chuckle doesn’t do much to halt your actions. Instead, you’re hurriedly popping off each button, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest and tight abdominal muscles. With his hair pushed back, eyes heavy – he looks like the definition of an angel. His skin is somehow almost glowing and you want nothing more than to cover it with your kisses.

“P-Please. I-I need-” Namjoon slides his hands inside your dress, dragging the fabric upwards until you lift up your arms to let him take it off completely.

“What do you need, y/n? Where do you need me?” He doesn’t sound like he genuinely wants to know. You can tell he just wants to make you say aloud. Say things aloud you never thought you would ask for let alone let some stranger do to you.

“Y-you. I need… you- oh.” Namjoon has started to palm one of your heaving breasts – pulling on the nipple through your white bra.

“Where, little bird? Where do you want me?” His reverberating growl makes another trickle of arousal escape, soiling your panties and no doubt staining his pants too.

Taking his hand that’s on your chest and dragging it downwards until it rests just above your underwear band. If you thought Namjoon’s eyes were dark and heavy before – his irises were completely black now. His pupils dilated and nostrils flaring as he looks down at your hand covering his own. “Here.”

You don’t know how you kept yourself from being a stuttering mess when asking something so completely shameless from him. No morals or ethics were currently holding you back as you asked him for what you needed. With another noise that sounded much like an inhuman growl, Namjoon’s shoving his hand inside your panties as his fingers dive straight for your slit making your head fall back as the delicious sensations have you singing.

“I can’t wait much longer but… I’ll make you feel good y/n. I’ll taste every inch of you.” You’re none the wiser when he’s growling like that, caressing your silken folds with his fingers that drag against them – relieving the pressure slightly. But that doesn’t make you want him less. A jolt of electricity goes through you when his index and middle finger slide upwards – settling on your clit and rolling it in tight circles.

“Ah! N-Namjoon I’m so c-close.” You felt like you were about to burst in to tears. So tightly wound but not being able to untie that knot somehow. Namjoon doubled his ministration, mumbling his erogenous words and promises about what he would do to you. But at no point do you ask him to stop. When his two circling fingers suddenly slip back down – your eyes are going wide at the loss of the sensations. You were so, so close.

But you don’t have to wait for too long as he’s spearing his two fingers inside your clenching entrance, making you shout aloud from the sudden thick intrusion. “Breathe, y/n. Just relax for me baby. Just like that.”

His soothing voice is enough for you to be doing exactly as he says. Your vaginal walls are relaxing around his digits as they rub your insides – nudging at that spongy spot that has you seeing stars with a shout.

“Namjoon! Oh god…” His chuckle is somehow heard through your own cries as he starts to thrust the two slickened fingers in and out.

“God won’t be able to save you now darling. Not when I’m about to have a taste…”

In an instant, Namjoon has you pushed back in to the couch, back laying on the soft velvety couch while his lithe figure loomed over you. His silk shirt open, exposing his smooth yet firm chest, hair falling forward as he supported his weight on the arm that wasn’t occupied. If you’d thought he looked beautiful before – he looked almost otherworldly now. It was as if you were in a dream – barely able to comprehend what was going on other than the intense burning in your core that seemed to flow out to the rest of your body. Your legs had fallen open, giving Namjoon full opportunity to continue his assault on your core that you welcomed. Back arching, his name falling from your lips – you revelled in the hedonistic pleasure that Namjoon was forcing inside your buzzing frame.

“That’s it little bird. Cum for me. Give me a taste, won’t you…” The slight tilt of his head as his mischievous tone asks you the rhetorical question only pushes you closer to your peak. As Namjoon continues to scissor his two fingers in and out of your pussy, your mind his becoming hazy.

“Fucking hell. You look amazing. Cum now y/n.” It’s his last growl that has you clamping your legs around his waist – crying out his name like a prayer while you spasm beneath him cumming harder than your own hand had ever made you.

Gently – Namjoon continues to thrust his fingers inside, momentarily pulling them out completely to rub your leaking fluids all around your pussy. Just when you think the burning in your core would subside – nothing of the sort happens. Instead, you can feel like desire clawing its way back in to your pussy faster than before and you’re extending your arms to bring Namjoon closer to you.

“K-Kiss me. Please, N-Namjoon…. I need-” He pulls his hand out of your panties, bringing them up to his lips as he pushes his slick, dripping fingers inside his mouth – tasting you on his tongue. A deep rumble from within his throat makes your body shiver once more and makes all the blood rush to your cheeks when he closes his eyes as well – savouring the taste. Maybe he was trying to distract you from asking him to kiss you. Whatever it was, it works as you watch him in a daze.

“I wish I could eat your pussy until you’re all I can taste but… I need you. Now.” His growl is carnal and you’re just following his every command. The buzzing in your core has become more incessant and you’re positively vibrating with need. Namjoon makes haste of his shirt, pushes down his arousal stained jeans and even before they are off – you can tell that he’s bigger than the average man. His erection stand proud and thick, the pearly white pre-cum leaking from the mushroom head as he palms himself.

You’re staring in amazement as even his own hand just barely fits around the base and it’s the first time tonight you’re having second thoughts. But Namjoon has quickly come forward, hovering on top of you again as he bites his lip.

“Take everything off little bird. I want to see all of you.” He watches you with his sparkling eyes while you unclip your bra and take off your panties that have strings of arousal keeping it from being completely torn off and Namjoon hisses at the image. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby. So wet and ready for me. I’ve been waiting so long…”

There it was again. What did he mean by waiting? Waiting for you? Did you know him from somewhere else? You don’t remember telling anyone about coming to the party or even your university. So how did he know you would be here?

“Ah!” All breath is knocked out of you once again tonight when Namjoon’s warm tongue is licking across your nipples – wetting them and sucking them gently to have you writhing. Your head is pushed back and eyes closed as his hands pull your pelvis closer to his own – getting ready to connect you both and it only makes you mewl louder.

It’s only for a second – if not less – that you open your eyes. What you see, however, has your blood running cold. Namjoon’s tongue is still laving your hardened nipples but the shape of his tongue is something else entirely. You’re so sure that his tongue edges were a serrated shape but before you can scream or say anything – Namjoon has pushed his entire girth inside your weeping pussy.

“Fuck!” He’s growling while your eyes are blown wide simultaneously. You expected excruciating pain to go through your entire body but apart from a slight pinch – you feel nothing but bliss. Maybe it was the effect of whatever he had you smoke or maybe sex felt this good even for the first time? You don’t get to mull over that thought for long when he grabs on to your hands and pins them above you head – gazing deeply in to your eyes.

“You’re better than anything I ever imagined. I’m going to ruinyou, darling.” His chuckle is sinister but you can only push your hips up in an effort to take him deeper when he was already pushed to the hilt. Your cries can be heard throughout the room and finally – Namjoon starts to move his hips.

With each thrust of his fluid hips forward, you’re being pushed backwards on the couch, a symphony of his name falling from your lips. Soon, sweat starts to trickle down his temples as he pushes his hips in to you with ever increasing force. His teeth are clenched hard enough that you can see every twitch in his cheek muscle. Your breasts bouncing with every vicious thrust of his length as it spears in to your pussy.

“Na-am-jo-on. Oh god.” Your eyes are tearing up as the knot in your core gets tighter and tighter – Namjoon’s length growing even harder inside you. Even when you two are joined so intimately like this; he doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t even indicate if he even wantsto kiss you. Your hands are clawing at his back, mouth hanging open like a drunkard as he grabs one of your legs and pulls on it until your ankle hangs off of his shoulder. The new angle reaching depths inside you that you hadn’t felt before and the new sensations make you cry harder – so good that they border on painful. It’s like he’s shoving the powerful sensations inside you with every deep thrust.

“Fuck yes. God won’t be able to stop me from having you, love.” His laugh is just as hypnotising – but now with a ominous edge to it. He’s looking down at you with his tongue peeking out from the edge of his enticing mouth. You’re in no shape to fight him off – or that you want to. Not when you’re so close to the finish line you could taste the relief. It’s so persistent that you feel as if it would never stop. Your breaths growing shallower as high pitched sobs sound from your mouth – tears streaming down your face as your overheated body takes every slap of his hips against your ass. The lewd noises that accompany his every lunge only make you gush more.

“You gunna cum for me, y/n? Your needy pussy ready to gush for me? Hm? Answer me!”

His tone is nowhere as gentle as when he’d started as he stares you down – sweat dripping down his temple and the bridge of his nose while all you can do is sob and nod out your reply. Namjoon is taking it a step further as he brings your other leg up too until both of your ankles now hang off of his shoulder – almost folding you in half as his cock slices in to your pussy like a hot knife going through butter. Your body so pliable from his hands constantly squeezing and running across it.

Just when you feel the string inside you about to snap – Namjoon makes the sensations tenfold more severe when his palm lands on your blood filled clit, rubbing it in circles before he pinches it to push you face first in to an almost violent orgasm as your whole body twitches. You can’t recall how long your orgasm went for – or how long you’d actually been with him, really. But it seems to go on and on and on. Your body stretched tight as your back remains arched – hands trying to grasp any part of Namjoon’s body as he continuous to push his cock in and out of your sloppy cunt.

Your orgasm is prolonged surely because of Namjoon’s never slowing ministrations. Your body is flopping in to the couch as the toll of your strenuous and debauched activities finally kicks in. Your arms and legs are quivering and yet, the stiff length that’s being dragged in and out of you is not relenting. The sweat dripping from Namjoon’s temple tells you how much of his energy is being used – and so is yours. Because it felt like the soul was being sucked out of you. Suddenly, the same sensations that were so mind numbingly pleasurable now felt like were making you dizzier and dizzier.

“Fuck, fuck! you’re so sweet I can’t stop little bird.” Namjoon’s growling out his words as he pushes your trembling legs off his shoulder and wrapping them around his waist. You’re so far gone that your head is lolled to the side, arms just trying to hold on to him as his hips continue to slam in to yours – the wet sounds accompanying each move incredibly erogenous.

“I can’t a-any m-more. Oh god…” His hand has slipped back down, swiping against your clit which reignites the pleasure a little more for you until you’re moaning like a vixen again.

Swiftly, Namjoon has risen from his position above you, leaning back with your legs still locked behind his back until he has you in his lap – his hands wrapping around your hips to gain leverage as he pushes his hips up in to your pussy in this new position.

The new angle is enough to have your eyes tearing up because somehow – the sex feels even more good than before. You’re losing sight of what is happening and the only thing you can focus on is the burning needs rising in your center again even if you felt like they were on fire. Tears have started to escape, your tongue loose as you shout out Namjoon’s name again and again. The was something happening and you couldn’t understand what. Not in the state that you were in. Past your hazy eyes, you could see that Namjoon looked…. Different. You weren’t sure how but you felt it. You felt the shift in the air now that he was ravaging your body unlike anyone else. You thought you wouldn’t be able to handle more but somehow, you were still clinging on to him as he repeatedly drove in to you. Now bouncing you on his lap to milk out his pleasure.

He was starting to glow. Radiating such energy you thought you were seeing an angel. Your body was getting more and more tranquil and pliant – letting him whisper all the sweet dirty things in your ear while he brought you to your peak again. This time – him joining you too. And doing the completely unexpected.

“I’m going to cum y/n. I’m going to fill you up with everything that I have so you will remember me forever.” His grin is not fear invoking anymore. It seems like he is content – unlike how he’d been at first. Purposeful. Almost vengeful as he coaxed you in to his arms. You were losing your senses as the time went – only able to recognise the stabbing pleasure at your core that Namjoon was stuffing in you to the brim. He looked scenic. Like a Greek god with the sweat shining on his body and muscles bulging and the urge to kiss him again rose with an agonising need.

“Please,” you pant with every push of his hips up in to yours. “Kiss me N-Namjoon. Kiss me. Please.” You’re pleading as your walls clench around his hard length and for the first time – his eyes soften enough for you to actually think he might be concerned. For what, you didn’t know.

“I don’t want to… hurt you.” His brow creases as he stares up at your dishevelled state, with the kindest eyes you’d seen on him since you step foot in to the room. But there was no reasoning with you as drunk on pheromones as you were. Clawing at his chest to pull him closer. And for once – Namjoon gives in and seals your lips in a searing kiss.

In a matter of seconds, he’s growling in the kiss as he cum with such stagnant force. You follow suit – body trembling as you feel the spurts of his cum splash inside your overheated pussy – dribbling out like saliva. But nothing compares to the feeling of his lips on yours. You don’t care that with each passing second you’re losing conscious – body suddenly growing weaker and weaker. More fatigue kicking in despite Namjoon doing all the work. You felt like you were in a dream – floating through the air feeling light as a feather. Namjoon’s lips were like having a glass of the richest red wine. You wanted even more as you clung on to his frame – pushing your tongue against his to drink him in.

“You’re like the sweetest fruit little bird. I will miss you.” You can hear Namjoon’s voice but somehow you can’t place where it’s coming from. Your eyes are falling shut and your limbs have lost all control as you lay your head on his shoulder – too spent to even bat an eyelash.

No one told you you’d be this tired after sex or was it just a thing with Namjoon? Whatever it is, you can vaguely feel yourself being put in something familiar. Some surface that feels all too familiar that the next thing you know, is blackness. Not before you hear Namjoon’s last words.

“Thank you little bird. You were a special one.” His voice sounds pained and you want to ask him why. But you can’t seem to open your eyes or even speak. You can tell he’s standing near you because the pull is too strong for you to ignore. Then, with a gentle kiss to your forehead, you hear nothing from him anymore. All you see is blackness.

Namjoon is thankful to be alive as he walks back to his place. Leaving you was harder than he’d thought it’d be but you wouldn’t have the energy to speak let alone walk back to your place after that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with someone and he was getting weaker. When you’d arrived on campus – he’d been thrilled. But watching you these past few weeks had made him in to another man. A weaker man. Caring about you was never the plan but he’d come to do that too.

Alas, he had to leave you alone now. He wouldn’t hurt you anymore. He may be a demon – but even he would not act this evil. He could tell you’d remembered him from the dreams. He’d been too greedy. Too selfish that despite Hyuna’s warning about him getting too close to his prey – he’d inserted himself in to your life more than necessary. Maybe a one night stand would have been easier for you to forget if he’d met you for the first time today. But the way you screamed his name, begged him to kiss you… he knew he was in trouble.

Because something told him that you wouldn’t be staying away.

a/n: dont forget to tell me what you thought!! 

[flying-elliska]

Hi Ellie!! I hope u dont mind this ask ❤Do u have any advice on how to do stuff on your checklist and not get overwhelmed? I can hardly do one thing out of my to do list and then i get severely depressed for not being able to do anything. i dont think i can function like a human being sometimes. anyway youre so cool ellie!!! i admire you loads!!! - help asked from one adhd struggling teen

HI anon ! I’m sorry for not answering sooner i had a beautiful answer ready and then Tumblr just ate it T_T anyway i don’t mind at all i think it’s awesome that you’re asking me ! this is honestly still something I’ve struggled a lot with. here are a few things that helped me (keep in mind i’m not a professional and this is only my personal, limited point of view) :

- ofc the first thing is to get as much help as you can, there are lots of people out there who can help. Generally talk to people around you about your problems ; often they want to help and just don’t know how : i know the tendency to feel ashamed and keep it in but that’s not good. Some people might be a bit ignorant so maybe keep a few ressources on hand you can send to people to educate them if that’s an issue ; and educate yourself so you feel more secure and legitimate in your opinions. 

- one thing that’s helped me lots is to go on #ADHDtwitter and #Neurodiversesquad because a lot of people on there are actual adults who are sharing both their struggles but also tips on how to actually manage the symptoms and have full and happy, if messy, lives. It’s very inspiring. It helped me a lot to feel understood, less alone and gave me a ton of ideas. Some accounts to start with : @ danidonovan - @ blkgrllostkeys @ ADHD_Alien (her comics are so cute) @ dustyexner plus lots of others

- regarding having trouble doing things, this is definitely a Big Damn Problem for adhd folks. the concept of the emotional Wall of Awful really helped me with this, you can find more about it in this Youtube video by the awesome How To ADHD channel (all her videos are so helpful !! have a look!) basically the idea is that we accumulate emotions linked to certain tasks based on unhappy past emotions that make it a lot harder for us to do things and that building it down takes a lot of time and effort but there are ways to work with/around that. learning to process, connect to and be more mindful of our emotions is a huge task, but it’s often a central one. 

- don’t try too hard to be neurotypical aka ‘normal’. find the solutions that work for YOU. If they’re a bit weird ? Whatever. The point is that it works. You will probably end up having weird routines that make no sense to others but it doesn’t matter as long as it helps you. Be creative and don’t be afraid to think outside the box. I’ll give you an example :  one of the reasons i hate going to bed early is because late at night is when i feel the most free of outside obligations and therefore i don’t want to give that up. So instead what i’ve been trying to do from time to time is a ‘clown hour’ where i basically give myself permission to do whatever the fuck i want (within reason lmao) but in an active way ; basically indulge my rebellious inner 8 yr old. Last time I ended up watching martial arts videos on youtube and practicing kickboxing kicks on the Mulan soundtrack and then put on funeral music and improvised my own eulogy by thinking about what i would like people to say about me after my death. Lmao that sounds completely wack when explained to other people but the point is - stuff like that really helped me reconnect to the idea that my time is mine to do with as i please, not just late at night. Anyway my point is : make it fun, make it a game, try things, experiment. Our brains crave novelty and if they don’t have it and feel burdened by shame, pressure and expectations of course they get depressed and stuck. Give your brain the fuel it needs to work. 

- just accept that sometimes you’re going to be a mess. it’s okay. you can be a bit of a mess and also live a fully, happy, joyous life. our society puts so much pressure on us to have this Perfect Instagram Life where everything is polished to unrealistic standards and gives us the idea that your morals are linked to productivity and if you are not constantly striving to be a Model Consumer Pretty Picture you are a Bad Person and a slob/lazy/unworthy/etc and all of that is...toxic garbage of the highest order that everyone should unlearn but especially us. related to that i would be careful with use of social media, tailor it to only give you content that makes you feel good/intellectually engaged/creative because it’s so easy for us to go into bad comparative spirals.

- tied to that be careful of your own perfectionist drives. it’s veeeeery common for adhd people to want to overcompensate their perceived shortcomings by wanting to be perfect. aka you haven’t done anything in weeks and all of a sudden you have this insane to do list where you expect yourself to turn your entire life around in a week. well, not going to happen. i’ve found it so important to limit myself. for instance what i do now is i forbid myself to put more than 5 items on any todo list. once i’ve cleared items i can add more, but not before. it’s a lot less scary that way. also prioritizing is very important so you don’t get bogged down in details.

- try to be mindful of your own energy. a big tendency of adhd people is to overpromise and underdeliver because we are enthusiastic and we want to please people but we are bad at estimating time/energy it will need. learn more about your own boundaries, what things are hard for you to do (for me, it’s socializing in groups) and what gives you energy (for me it’s writing, reading and walking in the woods) and try to balance that. learn to say no, it’s tough but necessary. So that you have enough left for the tasks you need to do. 

- create an environment that is benevolent and helpful for you in which to work/do things and that generates positive emotions. Get yourself a cute notebook. Put on happy music. Don’t forget to feed yourself. Don’t give into the urge of punishing yourself. You deserve happy good things - not overindulgence as escape - but our brains thrive on short term rewards. Bundle the unpleasant tasks with more stimulating stuff (for instance i always listen to podcasts while cleaning/grocery shopping etc). Create pleasant little routines for yourself (for instance one of the first things i try to do in the morning is do a little drawing of my emotions, it makes me happy, then i have tea and i plan my day.). Put on alarms constantly so you don’t lose track of time, but with a cool song. Find yourself cheerleaders who can encourage you in a positive way. Stuff like the pomodoro technique, timing yourself while doing a task, etc, can really help. Or telling yourself you will do a thing for ten minutes and stop when it’s unbearable, etc. Prioritize joy, pride, affection, desire to help, altruism, love, curiosity, interest and passion as motivators, instead of anxiety, guilt and shame. 

- find ways to build self esteem and confidence in your own skills. it’s often a lack of that that can block you from doing what you need to because you might be afraid of screwing it up. what I did for a while, for instance, is to keep a record of the stuff i did everyday and then extrapolated the skills i displayed from that. another thing you can do is make a list of simple skills you want to learn and find ways to do that, like youtube tutorials, etc. especially when it’s practical stuff and quick to learn, it can really feel so good, and make you more familiar with a sensation of success (and if you fail it can be a fun experiment gone wrong, and self discovery, you don’t have to be good at everything.)

- find ways to challenge yourself. depression happens for adhd people when we let ourself stagnate, isolate ourselves because of shame, and get into this idea that we are subhuman and we don’t deserve good things. that is false. you deserve a happy life. and our brains crave novelty. find your passion and indulge in it, find the things that make your brain come alive (as long as they’re healthy ofc). if you’re not sure what that is, just keep trying. you will find it. but resist the temptation to make your life smaller and smaller. you might mess up but that’s okay. it’s human and it will make for interesting stories later. instead of trying too hard to ‘fix’ yourself, focus on developping your positive sides. it will give you energy, self-respect and draw you forwards like a rocketship. we thrive on passion, not reprimand. 

- anyways : i know how tough it can be. depression is really something i struggle with, too. and doing things remains Hard. but my point is, you are not alone, and you are not broken. chances are you too, like most adhd people i know, are a fun, creative, compassionate person with a heart of gold and so much to give. our main enemy is most often the shame that comes with living in a world that is not adapted to us. but the truth is we are just playing the game of life on a much harder setting than a lot of people, and we don’t even have the manual. of course it’s going to create struggle ! so i think the best thing to do for yourself is cultivate a sense of compassion towards yourself, self acceptance, and humor. 

- as a teen you probably have a limited margin of autonomy to make your lifestyle fit your needs but - there is so much potential for it to get better ! as you grow in self knowledge and ability to make your own choices, you will find the right solutions and your life will get so much better. i have heard so many stories like this. since i got diagnosed, too, my life got a lot better. i won’t lie, it’s a lifelong process. but there is so much possible. give yourself time. you are so young, and you are definitely a human being. being human is struggling with being flawed and vulnerable and imperfect. i know the world can be shit sometimes, you probably got some negative messages - especially from your own brain bc depression definitely lies to you ! but don’t let yourself be guided by ignorance and fear. you deserve better. i bet you’re also super cool. the happier you are, the better off the world will be. so invest in yourself. educate yourself, develop your self knowledge, be kind to yourself, and keep making little steps. you’ll get there. <3

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: Finale - 1. Why was Richter surprised that Marta said "Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality"? I know Richter learned it from Aster and taught Emil it, but still. 2. How come Marta and the others still care and look out for Ratatosk despite killing Aster? Marta still loves him because he's a part of Emil as they're the same person.

1. I figure Richter was surprised because he hadn’t expected the phrase to catch on or mean anything to Marta. For Richter, that was always something between him and Aster, and he only taught it to Emil because he thought it was something Emil needed to hear. I guess he didn’t expect it to be something meaningful to anyone except people like him, like Aster, like Emil.  2. I’m sure a lot of why everyone sticks with Emil is 1) The side of Ratatosk that IS Emil clearly feels bad about what he did to Aster and WANTS to be good, and Ratatosk, while he’s reluctant to outright say it because he’s a dope that doesn’t talk about feelings, also seems to feel bad even though he felt justified in attacking Aster at the time. 2) Emil and Ratatosk are a summon spirit, an entity necessary to the balance of the world, the closest tangible thing the world has to gods. There are people of many different religions who worship gods that did some pretty terrible things. So I’m sure part of it is some sort of “Emil/Ratatosk did something bad, but he’s necessary for the world to be healthy so we can’t blame him too much since we really need his help. But I’m sure the part the game wants us to focus on is that, on top of changing and wanting to be better and make amends for killing Aster, something he obviously regrets, the party, especially Marta, understands that part of the reason Ratatosk lashed out at all was because of what happened to his tree.  So it’s some combination of those factors. Kind of like I might forgive Richter for trying to stab Marta. From Richter’s perspective, he’s avenging Aster and preventing a minor deity from committing a genocide he is perfectly capable of enacting. Like, I want to punch Richter because “Dude this is not how you deal with trauma and if you have genuine concerns you should ASK FOR HELP and not try to do it on your own and/or manipulate people!” But I understand why he did what he did and I think if he worked hard afterward to make up for what he did, I could forgive his actions in the game. Similarly, if we understand Ratatosk’s perspective, how he's lashing out because he’s afraid, upset, in pain, and just wanted to be alone to grieve after he just woke up and some uppity mortals show up, don’t treat him with any respect, make demands, and then get in his face about how “actually, the creatures that killed your tree are very important” it gets easier to forgive the unforgivable. Killing Aster, also, was only one action. A crime of passion. What Richter did was a series of mistakes. He dug himself a hole and instead of asking for help he just kept fucking digging whereas Ratatosk, apart from being just a little too trigger happy and having a temper, really only did the one bad thing. Like, honestly, this entire game is a massive case of “people who were hurt tend to hurt other people.” Like, both of these boys need therapy and a hug but also some spanking because like... they clearly don’t know how to process trauma. So like, on the one hand, yes, both these boys deserve forgiveness and happiness and Emil unconditionally supporting Richter is definitely something Richter needs even if he doesn’t “deserve” it for everything he did in the Vanguard. Similarly, Marta’s unconditional support of Emil and Ratatosk is definitely something they both need even if Ratatosk might not deserve it for squishing Aster like a bug to make a point. On the other hand, both these boys have serious issues and as much as I like to “solve” Richter’s trauma by shipping him with Emil, Richter and Emil should, ideally, have some sort of therapy and prison sentence because like... they’re directly or indirectly responsible for people losing their lives and that not having a consequence, as much as I don’t WANT it to have consequences, is kind of shitty for the families people that died. If Brute and Marta are going to take responsibility, Richter and Emil/Ratatosk should too. Unless they all get freedom in which case unrealistic but it’s better than Brute doing jail time, Marta getting community service, Richter being stuck in the Ginnungagap for 1000 years/his whole life depending on how Ratatosk deals with Richter aging, and Emil doing whatever he ends up doing with Marta. Like, IDK, I feel like they all deserve happiness, despite what they did, but, like. That’s not how the justice system works so... IDK, the game does a REALLY good job of making EVERYONE the victim, and you just can’t help but woobify them because the circumstances they had life deal to them are just terrible and they didn’t deserve anything that happened to them. Ratatosk didn’t deserve to lose his tree, Richter didn’t deserve to lose Aster, Aster didn’t deserve to die while trying to help the world, Emil didn’t deserve to come into being to pay for Ratatosk’s mistakes, Marta didn’t deserve to be part of the Vanguard and watch her dad slowly go insane after she just lost her mom, Brute didn’t deserve to be manipulated into a militant organization’s leader. Everyone in the game got dealt a shitty hand in life and they all suffered because of it and because they suffered, they inevitably caused harm to others. IDK, if there are real gods in the Symphonia universe, not just the Spirits and not just “Martel” but, like, actual gods that influence the events on Aselia? They need to be slapped. “What if we just give these guys unresolved trauma on purpose?” is, like, great from a narrative’s perspective but it’s so fucking cruel and I’m still mad at the writers for hurting my boy Richter like they did and then continuing to hurt him in Rays. But I have to admit, I probably wouldn’t like Richter as much if he wasn’t damaged. 

[let-it-raines]

Indirect Deposit (3/3)

Summary: It’s the oldest story in the world, isn’t it? Falling in love with your neighbor. Killian’s sure that he’s seen hundreds of books and television shows starting off that way, and he’s always thought them all to be entirely unrealistic. That is until he started getting to know Emma Swan, who just so happens to live across the hall from him, and he has absolutely fallen for her in a way that he hasn’t fallen for anyone in a long time. 

It’s the oldest story in the world...until it isn’t. Because it’s not just Emma he’s fallen in love with. It’s her unborn child too, and while everyone he knows thinks he’s crazy for falling in love with a pregnant woman, he knows that he’s not. Some things in life are worth taking the risk. 

Some people are worth loving. And some things about life may surprise you.

Rating: Teen

A/N: So I hear you guys are anxious for that cliffhanger to be resolved. Well, here you go! Thank you to @csmarchmadness for being an awesome event that has inspired a lot of writers and encouraged me to actually write this when it was sitting as a 1,000 word story for forever. And, of course, thanks to @wellhellotragic for letting me have her brain child and for talking through ideas and sending me badly photoshopped pictures of babies. I didn’t die of sickness before posting, so I guess you can’t give away the fake ending. 

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tag list: @emmas-storybook @effulgentcolors @kmomof4 @kingofmyheart14 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma  @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @artistic-writer @andiirivera @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @killiarious @scientificapricot @mez86 @snow-into-ash

“Do you think you’re Sawyer’s father?”

He drops the pair of socks he was folding at the sound of Emma’s voice behind him. She’s frantic, her voice strained and full of emotion, and he can’t move. He simply can’t. Emotion is lodged in his throat only to be pushed out or pushed down by shock. He really doesn’t know because Emma just asked him the one question he hoped that she would never asked him.

She also asked the one question he always hoped that she would.

But now that the words are out, that she’s said them, he can’t deny his thoughts. He can’t deny how he feels. He’s thought he was crazy for nine months. Nine entire months of thinking that luck or God or just something  had blessed him with this crazy coincidence of Emma choosing him even before she chose him, even before she knew him. He knows that Sawyer is his daughter. He does. He knows that the darkness of her hair and the blue of her eyes comes from him. He knows that she has his nose and his dimples. He knows that when he looks at her, just like when he looks at Emma, all he feels his love. He loves them both so damn much, and it wouldn’t matter if he thought Sawyer was his or not. He’d love them both all the same.

It’s one of the reasons besides his fear of Emma’s reaction and his inability to find the words that he’s never said anything. He’s fine living like this. He’s fine getting to spend time with both of his loves. Yeah, sometimes he wishes that Emma knew so that maybe he could take on a bigger role, so that maybe one day Sawyer would call him dad, but he’s never wanted to take anything away from Emma. Being a single mother has been such a big thing for her. This is her child, and just because he thinks all of this, just because he might actually be biologically related to Sawyer, it doesn’t mean that he has any right to her. He donated sperm for money years ago. He didn’t actively plan and try for a child with Emma. He has had no part of it. It was all Emma. He knows that Emma’s comfortable raising Sawyer on her own now, even though she allows him to help, and he knows that she has walls and issues that she’s allowed him to gradually take down like she’s done with him. Telling her that he thinks he’s actually the father to her child, well, he knows that it would fuck absolutely everything up.

With the tone of Emma’s voice right now, though, he knows that he’s likely done that from not saying anything. He can somehow already feel Emma retreating, already feel her backing away from him and from their relationship, and even though he doesn’t know what made her ask this, from the way she asks…he knows that he should have never hidden anything from her. Not like this.

How does someone even find the words for something as outlandish as this?

He’s royally mucked up, and it’s why he has to brace himself for the fallout that’s about to crash down around him.

He deserves it too. He’s lied to her, and it hasn’t been about something like what he had for lunch. It’s been about something so much bigger.

“Aye,” he says softly, tensing his shoulders and turning around to face her. She looks furious and ethereal and every thought he’s every had about her with the set of her mouth and the fire in her emerald eyes, blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back while her chest heaves. “I do.”

“Are you fucking insane?”

He nods his head toward the crib, toward where Sawyer is sleeping. “Do you think maybe we should not have this conversation in here?”

“No, we’re having it right here, right now,” she whispers, and the quietness almost makes her tone more terrifying. No, it definitely makes the tone more terrifying. “How long have you been lying to me?”

“Emma – ”

“How long, Killian? How long have I been letting you into my life, into our lives, while you’ve been hoarding away this secret? This crazy, preposterous secret that you could somehow be my daughter’s father?”

Her words sting, but he knows that he deserves them. They’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other. That’s what they said one night after spilling far too much about the depths of their hearts than any two people should in one night, and yet he still hoarded this one away in the depths of his heart.

He’s screwed up. He’s screwed up. He’s screwed up.

“Since the day she was born.”

Emma practically stumbles backward, her feet failing her, and the width of her eyes slant into a green so dark that he almost doesn’t recognize it, doesn’t recognize her. “So what? Everything you’ve been doing, you’ve only been doing out of some weird obligation? You’ve convinced yourself that of all of the men in the world who have donated sperm, I somehow picked yours? Do you even love me? Do you even love her? Or is at all only because you think she’s actually related to you? Would you even care otherwise?”

“Emma, no. I love you. I love Sawyer. I don’t care about any of that. I promise. I would love you no matter what. Yes, I do think you picked me. I do think you chose me, and that it’s been one of the absolute weirdest coincidences that we found each other. Everything you’ve told me about your donor, that matches up with me, with my life. Every bit of it.”

“She’s not your daughter.”

“Love – ”

“She’s not,” Emma sobs, covering her mouth with her hands as her shoulders shake, and all he wants to do is hold her. He knows that she won’t let him. He knows her well enough to know that. “She’s not your daughter. She can’t be your daughter, and I don’t think I can be with someone who’s been lying to me like this, who is thinking crazy things like this.”

“Please,” he begs, the emotion that he thought left from his throat coming back strong, making it difficult for him to breathe, “please don’t do this. Please think about this. Please let me talk, let me explain.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s too much, and I need you to go.”

“Emma.”

“Please go.”

“Darling.”

“Go,” she shouts, the volume loud enough that Sawyer begins to cry. Instinctively he takes a step toward her only for Emma to block him, staring him down until he backs away. “Get out.”

He nods his head before he does just that, letting his feet guide him out of the room even while everything around him seems to blur, his vision becoming murky with the tears that sting in his eyes that are only worsened by the shine of the Christmas lights moving off of Emma’s tree, wrapped presents resting underneath it. Staring at it makes the nausea come to him, and he has to quickly leave the apartment even if he knows that he might never get to go back. He might never get to see them again all because he wasn’t honest about his suspicions. He should have been honest.

How the hell was he supposed to be honest?

The nausea is almost unbearable by the time he gets into his apartment, his hands shaking as he turns the knob on his front door, and he barely makes it to the kitchen counter before he has to support himself on something, resting his head against the sweater that’s resting on the marble.

It’s Emma’s sweater, and he can smell her perfume on it. It’s her favorite one actually, and he nearly loses it thinking of how much of Emma he has in this place. It had taken so long for him to feel ready to let himself love again after being hurt, to want to take the risk, but he knows that this time, he’s the one who messed up. He’s not the one who’s walking in on his life being changed. He’s the one who’s causing everything to change.

“Why do you look like you’ve been hit by a bloody train?”

His eyes snap up to Liam who’s standing across the island from him, his clothes from earlier gone as he’s now dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas and a long sleeves t-shirt. It’s when everything suddenly clicks in his mind, like the gears have all matched up for everything to make sense, and he knows exactly how Emma found out he thinks that he’s Sawyer’s father. He’s only told one person, the person who he trusted most outside of Emma, and it was in a night of weakness when his mind wouldn’t turn off, when he needed to get his thoughts out of his mind for one moment. He’s an asshole for not saying anything to Emma, but Liam’s so much worse for betraying his trust like that.

At least, he’s worse to him right now. He’s thinking that Emma thinks he’s a bloody monster. She likely thinks his entire family is made up of bloody monsters.

“Why the fuck would you tell Emma about me thinking I’m Sawyer’s father?”

“I – ”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he shouts, his skin heating in anger while he straightens his back, standing up to his full height while his hands grip into Emma’s sweater, the softness calming him so that he doesn’t absolutely lose himself here. “You are the only person who knows I think that, and unless you told Loren and she decided to be a manipulative prick, I’m guessing you decided to share a secret that wasn’t yours to share with the woman I love.”

Liam’s calm as he crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders broadening instead of shrinking, and it only increases Killian’s anger. He’s always done that when he’s trying to subtly let Killian he’s in charge, and it’s not going to work now. “Because there’s no way that child is yours, Killian. You’re letting yourself fall for a woman and a child who are never going to let you be their family. It’s going to be like Milah again or Hannah or even Tina, but I know that this time it’s going to be worse because of the child. I’m guessing she just blew up on you in there, that she doesn’t trust you, and it’s better to know these things now than learn them when you’re in too deep. I’m simply trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes while his heartbeat seems to sound between his ears, a drumline amplified. “You just fucked up my life. I’m thirty-four years old, Liam. I’m not sixteen. Yes, I’ve screwed up in the past, but that doesn’t mean you know best. You’re not some all-knowing being. You’re just a man who thinks that he’s smarter than he is.”

“You’re upset with Emma. You’re not upset with me.”

“I’m upset about Emma. I’m furious at you. I’ve let you do a lot of shit in my life because I trust you and I love you, but you just betrayed that trust and made me lose the two best things that have ever happened to me outside of our family. I love her. I love Emma, I love Sawyer, and I may never get to talk to them again because you couldn’t keep your mouth closed for long enough for me to figure my own shit out.”

“Little brother – ”

“It’s younger,” he huffs, unclenching his fists from Emma’s sweater so he can wipe away the tears on his cheeks. “It’s fucking younger. You and Loren can stay here tonight because it’s late and I’m not a monster, but I want you gone in the morning. Happy Christmas.”

-/-

“Do you see this?” Roland squeals, running up to Killian with his bike, pushing it through the apartment before Killian can even get the front door closed behind him. “Santa brought me a new bike.”

“That’s awesome,” he laughs, squatting down to Roland’s level and admiring the bike with him. “Are these racing stripes? In your favorite color? How did Santa know?”

“I don’t know. He just does. He’s magic.”

“He is. He even got your name on it.”

“Yep. The elves probably did that.” Roland looks over to him and the box he’s holding. “Is that for me?”

“It is indeed.”

“Can I open it?”

“Roland,” Robin scolds, walking out of the kitchen archway to wiping off his t-shirt, legs still covered in pajama pants, “you need to be patient. We’re going to eat breakfast, and then you can open your present from Killian and your stuff from me. For now, why don’t you go put your bike back in the living room?”

“Okay,” Roland shrugs, already wheeling the bike away. “How long until breakfast?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Cool. I’m going to set up my Legos.”

He chuckles under his breath before following Robin into the kitchen, immediately settling down at the table while the smell of bacon fills his nostrils. He swears there’s some cinnamon somewhere too, but he doesn’t really trust a lot of his senses after the past four days.

“Happy Christmas, mate.”

“Yeah, Happy Christmas.”

“So you’re cosplaying at the Grinch this year then?”

He twists his head to look at Robin who’s cutting up apples into slices and not at all looking at Killian to see his reaction. He probably can see it without even looking. Dad powers or something. “I’m kind of having a shitty week.” “Aye, I know. Your girlfriend broke up with you, and you got into a fight with your brother who took an early flight back home, so even if you felt like forgiving him so you could spend Christmas together, you can’t.”

“Pretty much, yeah. No offense, mate, but I didn’t imagine spending the day with the two of you. I thought I’d get to spend it with my brother, Emma, my da – I thought I’d get to spend it with my family.”

“You’re Uncle Killian. You’re family here too. I just…hell, Killian, do you really think that Sawyer is your biological daughter?”

“She picked me,” he sighs, getting up from his chair to walk over to the kitchen and pour himself a cup of coffee. He’s so exhausted, physically and emotionally, and he needs coffee. “The donor she picked was me, Rob. What are the odds of that? What are the odds that I’d fall in love with this incredible woman and I’d happen to be the father of her child?” “Are you sure, though?”

“I mean, yeah,” he laughs, the craziness of what he’s saying beginning to sink in while the coffee burns his tongue and his throat, the feeling somehow comfortable when it shouldn’t be. “But it doesn’t matter to me. That’s the thing. It doesn’t matter to me if she really is mine biologically. I love her, and I’d love her regardless. It’s the same with Emma. I love them both no matter what. I just…I fucked up with this. I should have told Emma sooner. I shouldn’t have kept it from her.” “Why did you?”

“A part of me says that it’s because I know that none of it matters. Another part of me says that it’s because I couldn’t find the words and I knew it would freak Emma out, that there was no point because even if it’s true, she’d think I was crazy. Sawyer is her child who she conceived and carried and is raising alone, and I would never try to take her away from Emma. Never. Hell, I don’t have a legal right, and even if I did, I wouldn’t try. No matter what. But she’s not going to see it that way. She doesn’t see it that way, and now I’m missing Christmas with them…I’m missing life with them.” Robin sighs, sprinkling the cinnamon he smelt earlier over the apples before popping them in the oven. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“Yeah. She won’t answer my texts, my calls, and she sure as hell won’t answer the door.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Robin walks over to him and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for an embrace that he so desperately needed, some of the weight on his shoulders lifting the slightest bit. “I’m sorry that Liam messed up, that you did too, but I know you and Emma. It might take some time, but you’re going to work things out.”

“I don’t know…I don’t know how to fix this one. I don’t even think time will.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Roland announces, skidding into the room with his bike helmet latched over the mess of curls on his head. “Let’s eat, so I can open my presents.”

-/-

The New Year comes in with a bang, literally, as he can hear cheers outside of his living room windows and fireworks outside despite the fact that fireworks are illegal here. He doesn’t go out to celebrate, his moping reaching new heights. Instead he sits at home watching television, avoiding all of the shows that he watches with Emma, and drinks a glass or two (or three) of rum, letting the spice soothe him as he watches the ball drop on television. He knows that there are texts from his friends, a few colleagues, even Liam and Loren wishing him a happy New Year, but he honestly…he just doesn’t care.

Especially about the ones from Liam.

And even though he doesn’t believe any of the crap about new calendar years meaning new chances at life, starting over, and getting to be a brand new person, he does wish that maybe he will get some new chances at life. He wishes that he’ll get a chance to talk to Emma again, to get to read Sawyer another story at night when she’s about to go to bed, and he wishes that maybe he won’t be so pissed at his self-righteous brother who he misses despite everything. He lost his two best friends in one day, and it’s hitting him harder than he expected. He simply wishes that he were able to make up for everything that’s happened in the past two weeks.

But as the weeks go by and he starts a new semester of lecturing, loading up on even more classes than before because he wanted to save money for…future life decisions that will probably not be happening now, he realizes that maybe he’s not going to get new chances. Maybe he should stop holding out the little glimmer of hope that he has that things are going to get better. He still has a life without the three most important people he knows, but it’s definitely a little less bright. He spends more time with his colleagues than he usually does as well as spending a hell of a lot of time teaching Roland how to ride a bike or picking him up from school while Robin is at work. If anything, he can’t complain about getting to spend more time with Roland. It’s fascinating to get to see life through a child’s eyes. He gets so excited about everything, even when the snow starts falling despite the fact that it blocks the roads, and Killian thinks to himself that maybe he should try to think the way Roland does.

(It reminds him of how Sawyer will see things one day, and as much happiness as that brings him…he can’t.)

Of course, he knows that’s not possible. He knows too much. He knows too much heartache and heartbreak, and he’s aware of the realities of the world that Roland is blessed enough not to know. He hears all of the time about how childlike innocence is nothing but being ignorant, but he doesn’t believe that’s true. Childlike innocence is seeing the good in the world even when there’s only the slightest glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. It’s not about seeing the darkness. It’s about seeing the light.

So he tries to work and live with that philosophy throughout the month of January, even as the winter chill continues to bite him every time he walks out the door, sometimes even as he hides away inside, but then he sees Emma and Sawyer in the lobby of their building and it stops him in his tracks. Literally. He can’t move. His feet are glued to the tile, and he can’t move, can’t tear his eyes away from them.

Emma’s dressed in dark pants that reach up past her waist, a white sweater tucked into them to show of her slim frame, and her hair is pulled into a high ponytail on the top of her head that makes her seem even taller than she already is with the aid of the heels that he can see peeking out from under her trousers. She looks beautiful, stunning really, and she’s got Sawyer on her hip dressed in an outfit that he had bought her before she was born. It was an impulse buy, something he saw and figured Emma would need like one day for when Sawyer is a little bigger like she is now. It’s a blue jumper with ruffled sleeves, and Emma’s dressed her in a thermal shirt underneath to keep her warm in this weather. Her hair has grown quite a lot since he last saw her, the black lightening a bit as curls peek out around the back of her head, but it’s difficult to see under the floral headband Emma has her wearing.

When Emma turns around, she sees him. He knows that she does from the way her lips part, the red splitting apart, and from the way her eyes blow wide, green so much lighter than the last time he was able to look at them. Honestly, though, the worst part is the moment he realizes that Sawyer recognizes him. She squeals, giggling the slightest bit, and does absolutely everything she can to move out of Emma’s arms to try to get to him. He can physically feel the way his heart begins to malfunction in his chest, the pieces breaking even though it’s not possible, and the similar feeling of nausea comes back to him at the same time that tears sting behind his eyes.

He’s about to fall apart in the middle of this lobby, and it takes everything in him not to.

“Hi, Sawyer,” he whispers, waving his hand at her and taking a step forward until a glance from Emma makes him freeze again. “Swan, please. Let me talk to you. Or at least let me say hi to her.”

Her lips close, pressing into a firm line that he’s seen so many times and yet hates to see, before they open up again at the same time that her head nods up and down. “You can say hi to her for just a minute, but I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Emma – ”

“Please don’t push it. Just take what I’m giving you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He quickly walks over to the two of them and reaches out to grab Sawyer’s hands. He already knows that Emma is not going to let him hold her, so he doesn’t even try. He lets Sawyer grasp onto his hands as he moves them up and down as he talks to her as fast as he can, letting out watery chuckles every time she giggles or babbles. She’s saying Mama, and he knows that it’s probably just babbling, but he also knows that he’s likely missed Sawyer’s first word. And he wonders what else he’s missed, what else he’s going to miss. Those tears that were stinging behind his eyes come back in full force, and he doesn’t try to bother hiding them and holding them back while he enjoys the moment that he’s getting.

When he looks up at Emma, though, he sees a single tear running down her cheek, but before he can say anything, before he can try to convince her to talk to him, she’s making excuses about them needing to go, and he’s having to say goodbye to the two loves of his life.

For how long, he doesn’t know.

God, he fucked up.

-/-

“Dr. Jones.”

“Dr. Jones.”

“Dr. Jones.”

“Huh,” he gasps, startling up from his desk as one of his students stands at his office door. What’s her name? He’s pretty sure it starts with an A. Allison? Amanda? Autumn? He’s pretty sure it’s Amanda. He won’t say anything until he’s sure. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, rolling back in his chair and adjusting his shirt, straightening the buttons. “I seemed to have zoned out, and I didn’t hear you. Do you need something?”

“Um, yeah,” she sighs, flashing her a smile while he tries to pull himself together. “I was wondering if you would be willing to write me a recommendation letter for an internship I’m applying for at this publishing firm. It’s at Houghton, and I kind of figured a literature professor I’ve had for two semesters would be a good person to help out.”

“Of course,” he smiles, ignoring the guilt in his stomach from not recognizing her at first. The more he wakes up, though, he remembers her enough to know that he can write her a recommendation letter without completely fabricating it. “That sounds wonderful, Amanda. If you want to leave me the information for who and where to send it, I’ll start working on it today.” “Really, um, okay great.” She walks toward him and hands him two sheets of paper, placing them on his desk. “Thank you so, so much, Dr. Jones. I’m sorry that I woke you from your nap.”

“Ah,” he sighs, reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “that’s fine. It’s not just the lot of you who are always tired.”

“Well, you do give us a hell of a lot of reading.”

He barks out a laugh, feeling it rumble in his stomach. “Too true. Too true. Thanks for coming by. I’ll get this into you before the deadline. I’ll send you an email when it’s finished, okay?”

She nods her head. “Thank you. Have a good afternoon!”

“You too.”

Now that he’s awake and thoroughly embarrassed to be caught sleeping in his office – he’d been up late last night grading essays, red lines marking his vision as much as they marked the essays – he spends the rest of his time before his afternoon classes writing Amanda’s recommendation letter and answering emails. Classes have only been in session for a month and a half, February nearly almost over now, but they’re all really getting into the swing of things as spring approaches. He’s excited to be in a rhythm, to be back into his old rhythm really, but mostly he looks forward to the way that the weather is beginning to change, frigid temperatures warming into comfortable mornings that will allow him to get back into running in the mornings without having to layer up so as not to freeze to death.

It’s the light at the end of the tunnel, the one that he’s been trying to focus on, and he’s doing a little better at it than he was at first. Helping that is likely the fact that he’s talked with his brother. It’s been slow going, mostly encouraged by Loren with her texts about them both being stubborn assholes (but mostly Liam), and slowly but surely he’s started speaking to his brother again. He’s still upset at what Liam did and still upset that even though neither Liam nor Emma (he’d have to be talking to Emma to know these things) have told him the true story of what exactly transpired between the two of them, he knows that Liam must have said something to Emma besides his thoughts about thinking that he’s Sawyer’s father. He’s learning, though, that his brother isn’t perfect. He’s human, he has flaws, and he’s going to screw up. The same applies to himself. And he doesn’t want to live his life without his brother just because Liam decided to be a pompous ass one night out of some sense of protection.

It’s been a lot of arguing, a hell of a lot of screaming over the phone, and he believes that there’s been more cursing in the two weeks that they’ve been talking than there has been in all of their phone calls in their years of living across the ocean from each other. And even though he still wishes that none of this had happened, he’s learning to forgive his brother.

He’s learning. He’s not quite there yet. His brother betrayed his confidence, and everything is not as black and white as he wishes it was. He thinks they’ll be fine, but there’s always going to be the niggling thought about not being able to give Liam his complete trust. He can forgive him, but that doesn’t mean everything is okay.

It doesn’t change anything but how he gets to feel when he wakes up in the morning.

If he could get Emma to forgive him, though, that would…that would be everything. She may never fully trust him again, but he’d at least like the chance to earn it back. He might not deserve it, but if she were to give him the chance, he’d do everything he could.

When he finishes his lectures for the day, he packs up his backpack and makes his way home, pulling his sunglasses down over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. He almost feels hungover from how tired he is and the way the sunlight is bothering him, but the coffee he was drinking in his last lecture is beginning to thrum through his veins, the caffeine alleviating his headache if only for a little while. All he really wants is to be home and to resume his nap from this morning, but he needs to go to the market and get food. It’s got to have been at least three weeks since he bought groceries, and he really needs to stock up on the basics and stop spending money on takeout when he’s trying to save money. He doesn’t really have the need to save like he was, but he figures it honestly can’t hurt to save a little something for a rainy day. He could always get fired or something.

God, that would be the cherry on top to the last two months of his life.

He stops at the market around the corner from his apartment, getting everything he can carry and making a mental note of everything that he’ll need. He’s out of sugar weirdly enough. He’s not sure when the last time was that he was out of sugar. Isn’t there an old saying about borrowing sugar from your neighbor? He could do that, but the only neighbor who he wants to borrow sugar from is Emma.

And that’s not happening.

Or maybe it is because when he gets home she’s pacing back and forth down the hallway, her hair sticking up in several directions despite it being pulled back in a braid. What the hell is going on?

“Swan.”

Her head whips around faster than he knew a neck could turn. “Killian.”

She looks relieved to see him. Why in the world would Emma be relieved to see him? She must hate him. He’s sure that she hates him.

“Swan, what’s wrong?”

“I – I…oh shit. I locked myself out of the apartment. I was carrying in a box and…and you know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m locked out. Sawyer is inside, and I really, really need you to still have your spare key. Oh God,” she sobs, covering her mouth with her hands and looking at him as if she’s about to lose her legs from underneath her.

He drops all of his groceries, likely cracking his eggs, but none of the matters to him as he turns his backpack around and grabs his keyring, finding the one to Emma’s apartment that he never took off and unlocking the door even as his hands shakes and his stomach rolls in on itself. The moment he gets the door open, he steps back, letting Emma rush inside. He doesn’t know if he should follow or go on his way, but he can’t not know if Sawyer is alright. He has no idea how long she was in there alone, how long Emma’s been locked out, and he simply needs to know.

He doesn’t have to look far to find them. Emma’s sitting on the floor of her living room with Sawyer help tightly to her chest, Emma’s voice reaching his ears even as she whispers. Relief immediately washes over him only to be replaced by more apprehension over the situation he’s just walked into.

“Is she okay?”

Emma looks up at him, her eyes the brightest emerald he’s ever seen, before she’s nodding her head up and down. “Yeah, she’s okay. She’s crawling now, can stand a little bit if she’s got something to hold onto, so I was really worried she’d get into something she’s not supposed to get into. Or that she’d knock the bookshelf over or that a knife would somehow fall out of the kitchen drawers that she can’t even reach.”

“She’s crawling?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs before she presses kisses all of Sawyer’s face, “she is. I have a video, if you want to see it. I missed the first time because of work, but I’ve got the second time. Or you could just see it in person.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was going to…I wanted to talk to you, actually, was planning on it tonight when she was asleep, but then I became the worst mother in the world…and yeah.” “Hey,” he soothes, the tenseness in his shoulders easing as he boldly takes steps toward Emma and settles down next to her, reaching out his hand when Sawyer wants to come to him. He’s surprised that she recognizes him like this still even though he saw her three weeks ago. She doesn’t see him like she used to, but he guesses he made a big enough impression in those first few months. “You are not the worst mother in the world. You had an accident, and these damn doors are so fickle anyways. I guarantee that if I google something like this, there are a million stories exactly the same, and every one of those people have a child who’s okay just like this little one.”

“But what if she wasn’t?”

“But she is.” He nudges his shoulder into her before waggling his brows, knowing that it makes Emma laugh. And she does. She laughs, even if it’s a watery chuckle. It’s a good sound to hear. “Besides, whenever you get locked out of your apartment, good things seem to happen to me.”

“You still think meeting me is a good thing?”

Sawyer clasps her hands over his cheeks, and he pokes his lips out to peck her nose, making her giggle. God, he missed her laugh too. She’s so beautiful. “I still think meeting you is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Killian – ”

“Can I talk first?” he asks, tilting his head to look at her, their noses so close that he could probably kiss her nose too. Or at least kiss her. That would be pushing his luck too much. He’s somehow walked into an opportunity here, and he doesn’t want to screw this one up too.

Emma doesn’t say anything. She simply nods, and he takes this as his opportunity.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry that I…that I kept a secret from you. I’m sorry that I kept such a big secret from you. I don’t have a great reason. When I sit down and think about it…I don’t have a good way to explain it.”

“Can you try?”

Does she…is she…she almost looks hopeful. Does he have any right to feel hopeful?

“You’d just given birth, and neither of us had slept in awhile, and a nurse or two kept making comments about how Sawyer – ” Sawyer squeals at the sound of her name, and he and Emma both laugh at her as he starts bouncing her up and down in an attempt to entertain her while he gets this miraculous chance to talk to Emma. All of his food outside is going to spoil. He doesn’t even care. “ – they kept talking about how Sawyer looked like me, which was insane. It’s still insane, but it nagged at me. I knew there was no chance, but I asked you about your donor anyways…and while yeah, it could just be the freakiest coincidence in the world, the man you were describing, I’m that man. At least I think I’m that man. I had forgotten the I was once I donor, and I’m…I think I’m your donor.”

“I know.”

“What?” he whispers so quietly that he can barely hear the words himself.

“I know that you are. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I kind of…I shielded myself away from people. I shouldn’t have, but I did. And I had a lot of time to think. You do match every description. I went back and read the sheet. I had it on file or whatever, and there were so many more things that are just…you, which may very well be the craziest thing in the entire world.” “I agree with you on that.”

Emma presses her lips together in a soft smile, and he can see tears forming in her eyes. He can feel them in his own. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before when I was getting to know you, but to me, I was never worried about the donor. I was going to be a mom, and I was going to do it on my own.”

“And you’re doing a bloody fantastic job.”

“Today not withstanding,” she chuckles, reaching over to push Sawyer’s hair back, staring at her for a long time before she looks back up at him. “But I don’t – I thought about coming to talk to you so many times, but I was so hurt about you lying to me, about you betraying my trust like that, and even though I know you would never do this, I was terrified that you’d try to take her away from me even though you legally couldn’t. I see crazy stuff like that nearly every day, families falling apart, and I couldn’t risk that happening. I still can’t.”

“I’m not going to try to take her away from you. Ever. You of all people know that biology doesn’t give me any rights to her. I don’t intend to let you down.”

“Yeah, but don’t you see how I could think that maybe you would try? I see that happen all of the time for parents and couples who fall in love, get married, and then decide to have kids only for it to fall apart. You and me…we’ve done things all out of order. We didn’t plan for any of it. I mean, I did. You sure as hell didn’t, and a part of me kind of feels like maybe…maybe you only stayed with me and decided to date me because you felt some kind of obligation to me for Sawyer. There are just…there are so many things that I simply didn’t know, that I don’t know.” “First of all, Emma Swan, I fell in love with you far before this little girl was born. How could I not? It’s not every day that a woman throws up in your toilet, and I knew then that you were something special from the beginning.”

“Did you really? The love part. Not the vomiting.”

“Aye. It was the night you came and made me go searching for that blasted bride’s cake ice cream. I went to so many stores, and I realized that there was not a person in the world who I would do that for besides you. And I loved this little munchkin before I ever had an inkling that she may be mine. Emma, I don’t think I have the words to let you know just how much I love you, both of you, and how much I would love you even if the situation wasn’t like it is. She’s your child no matter what, and I never want you to think again about how I could want to take her from you, to think that I only love you out of some kind of obligation. I love you both for you.”

He means it. He means every damn word and a million more. And as well as he thinks this is going, as relaxed as he’s become every with the way his heart is pounding in his chest, he knows that he still needs Emma to feel the same way. They were partners, and maybe they will be again. But he can’t do that without Emma feeling the same way.

“I love you too,” she sighs, and his heart nearly soars hearing the words. “All of this has been so hard because I do love you. And I’m sorry that you’ve missed so much. I’m sorry we got all screwed up. I don’t…I’m willing to try again, Killian. I think we have a lot to talk about, but I’m willing to try.”

He chuckles before looking at Sawyer, the blue of her eyes shining as she looks at him, hands sill messing with the material of his shirt. “My darling, can you close your eyes? I’m about to very indecently kiss your mum.”

“Oh my God,” Emma laughs, twisting her head from side to side until he places a hand on her cheek and guides her lips to his. They’re just as soft and warm as he remembers, but he doesn’t really care about any of that when Emma automatically opens her mouth to him, letting him flick his tongue out at her bottom lip and apply the smallest of pressures. Mostly he’s thankful to get to be connected to her again, to come together and expertly move against each other like they never stopped. He never wants to stop again. “If she could feel embarrassment, she would be mortified by us making out like that.”

“She’ll have to get used to it.”

“Hear that, baby, you’re going to be mortified by us.”

-/-

One conversation doesn’t fix everything. It never does. He hurt Emma, and she did the same to him in her reaction to his hurt, no matter how justified she was. Even if they both hate it, they can’t change it, but they can try to make amends, try to rebuild that trust. As much as he wants to dive back into things without abandon, he restrains himself and takes things as slowly as he can. He often has to remind himself that with he and Emma, everything has always been a gradual, natural build. Nothing about it has been rushed, and honestly, he thinks it’s that very thing that’s going to help them make this work.

There’s nothing he’s ever wanted to make work as much as he wants to make this work.

So there are baby steps for them (and none for Sawyer as of yet). They start with eating dinner again together. It’s not every night, but it nearly is. He starts cooking for more than him again, making the portions bigger, and Emma will come over to his apartment with Sawyer when she gets home from work. The things of Emma’s she left here, her sweaters and makeup and the occasional shoe – and really just the one at a time which he’s never even quite understood – start to multiply, the old being replaced by the new, but that’s nothing compared to the toys that scatter across his floor and the pureed food that fills his refrigerator and his shelves. As much as it bothers him to have his apartment all out of order, he’s learning to allow the mess.

He’s learning to love the mess.

It’s not as if he can tell an eleven-month old baby that her toys and her food are driving him into madness. When she’s older, well, that’s when he’ll teach her the wonder of organization. And maybe that’s when he’ll teach the same to her mother. The latter is less likely.

His life is his life again, but he likes this version so much better. Emma’s trusting in him, and that’s honestly more than he could have asked for. He screwed up in a lot of ways, and a part of him feels like he’s getting another chance at life. Emma didn’t have to accept him back into her life, their lives, in the way that she has. Forgiveness and love are powerful things he’s both gained and lost in his life, and he’s glad to have found them again.

“Should we have a birthday party for her?” “What now?”

“She’s turning one in three weeks,” Emma sighs, curling her legs up underneath her and tugging the comforter up to cover her waist, her entire body bundled in warm clothes despite the warming spring weather outside. “I think most people have first birthday parties with the smash cake and everything. I just…I don’t have any friends who are moms, so I don’t really – I don’t know what I should do.”

He puts his phone down on the bedside table after he finishes replying to a student’s email. They’re on spring break, and yet he’s still getting emails. These kids should really go out and have some fun. It’s not as if he assigned them work for over the break. “What do you want to do, love?”

“I think I might like for it to just be us. I don’t…you missed so much in those two months, and I kind of want it to be special, you know? She’s not going to remember it, but we are.”

“If that’s what you want to do, we should do it.”

“But what do you want?”

“Emma, darling, it’s your decision. If you want it to be just us, you should decide.”

Her lips form an “o” before they press together and she twists her body, turning her shoulder to him and her back so that all he can see is blonde of her hair falling down her shoulders over her sweater. He’s obviously said something wrong, so he moves over in the bed until he can touch her arm and gently nudge her back into looking at him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, making sure that his voice is low and soft, “what’s wrong?”

She sighs, her shoulders heaving, before she slaps her hands against the bed in what he assumes is frustration. It’s not even seven in the morning, and he’s already somehow messed up today. Or not necessarily messed up but…Emma is upset, and he doesn’t know why. “If we’re going to do this, this whole being together and being parents together, you have to make decisions too. You can’t let me make all of the decisions when maybe you have a different opinion. I want your opinion.”

He quirks a brow, confusion running through him. Is Emma Swan herself giving him permission to veto her decisions? Is this an alternate universe?

“Is that what we’re doing? Co-parenting?”

“I thought so.”

“Aye, I know, I know. I just – Emma, I know that she’s ours…technically…maybe…I don’t know how the hell to describe it, but I already told you, I don’t intend to step over all of your toes. Sawyer has always been yours, and I’m not sure how exactly I fit in here.” “What do you mean?” she asks reverently, reaching forward to cup his cheeks with her hands, the coolness that always seeps from her extremities invading him. “Killian, you’re her father. That’s – I’m not ready to change anything legally, but you’re her…you’re here for us. I trust you, I love you, and even though this is a weird situation, we’re still us.”

His heart stops for a moment, which cannot at all be healthy, before he nods his head up and down, letting all of that sink in. Their timing is all over the place, but maybe the conventional family thing is not going to be for them. Hell, he didn’t ever think that Emma would accept him as Sawyer’s father this soon, even if it’s rare that she says it. Then again, if he thinks about it, how can anything be soon when they’ve pretty much been together for nearly two years?

“So I’m allowed to have a voice on the first birthday celebrations?” “You’re encouraged.”

“I think we should have it be just the three of us with a vanilla cake with buttercream icing. I think she’d like it if it was in the shape of an octopus, since she really likes her Ollie the octopus doll.”

“Ollie?”

“Yeah, that’s his name.” “Baby, you named the stuffed animal?”

He chuckles underneath his breath before dipping his head and gliding his lips over Emma’s, her softness making him feel content while his hands move up and down her shoulders, holding onto her muscles and the warmth that radiates from her. Warmth from everywhere but her hands and feet in the mornings. “He needed a name.” “I love you.”

“For naming a stuffed animal?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I love you too, but I apparently have a lot of stuffed animals to name if it makes you love me.”

They do end up having a first birthday party for Sawyer with just the three of them. He sends pictures to his friends and family, and Emma ends up having to facetime Anna halfway through because the woman absolutely insisted that she see Sawyer and her cake, but it’s just the three of them. And it’s perfect, he thinks. Sawyer has no idea what’s going on, but like Emma said, they do. And besides, they’re giving a one-year old icing for the first time. They could be at a funeral and Sawyer wouldn’t care.

That’s a bit morbid, but it’s true.

And Sawyer absolutely loves it, very meticulously trying to eat the cake at first, something which he knows she gets from him, but once she’s had a taste, she absolutely smashes the cake into her face, covering her mouth with purple and blue icing. That…that she definitely gets from Emma. He has no doubt.

He barks out a laugh the more she does it, and Emma does the same, the video she was taking surely filed with the sound of their laughter, and when he looks over at Emma, she’s got tears running down her cheeks from how much she’s laughing. She looks so happy, and it fills him with a lightness he wants to feel forever.

“Oh, baby,” she laughs before going to get Sawyer out of her high chair, “you are a mess, and your daddy is going to be so upset if you get icing on any of the furniture.”

Every part of him stops functioning for a moment. His organs might even stop for a moment, but then everything is roaring back to life as he watches Emma move Sawyer over to the sink so she can wash her off. He can’t stop staring at them, can’t stop thinking about the slip of the tongue that just happened. He’s always hoped that maybe one day they’d get there, but he never assumed it would be this soon even with all that’s happened. He never assumed it would happen at all. He’s learned not to assume things. Maybe Emma’s not ready for that. Maybe it really was just a slip. Still. She said it.

There’s a difference between Emma accepting him as Sawyer’s father and her accepting him as an actual dad when she has no obligation to do that. She’s never once referred to him as Sawyer’s daddy, and he wants to replay the moment over again and again to make sure he hasn’t lost his mind.

“Killian, why do you look like you’ve just been slapped?”

“I – I – you called me daddy. You referred to me as Sawyer’s dad.”

“Yeah,” she smiles softly as she tests the water out under her hand, “I know. That’s who you are. I’ve been practicing the word with her because I knew you wouldn’t until I said something even though we’ve had this conversation so many times. I felt like the word should be in her vocabulary. You know, for a rainy day or something.”

God, he can’t believe this. He can’t believe that this is his life. He can’t believe that he’s been granted this stroke of luck. But he has, so he walks over to them and wraps his arms around Emma’s waist, tugging her in closer and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it. I don’t thank you enough for being who you are and for helping us even when I’m an idiot. It’s…I’m trusting my gut here by doing this, by not hiding behind things that I’ve been hiding behind. Now, help me clean this mess of a munchkin off before I try to salvage some of that cake so I can eat it.”

“I like that plan.”

He’s a dad.

-/-

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, picking Sawyer up off the ground and holding her to his chest while she cries into his shoulder, the screams practically piercing his ears as the door clicks into its frame. “Mummy will be back, little love. Mummy is coming back. Oh, I know, I know. I miss her too, but she’s coming back.”

It happens nearly every morning that Emma leaves for work, but he’s never quite prepared for it. And it doesn’t help that it happens twice a day when he has to go to his lectures in the afternoon. He’d lightened his class load this summer after talking to Emma about Sawyer’s scheduling, and he was happy to work a little less so he can spend more time with his daughter. He didn’t realize there would be separation anxiety tantrums every day, but he knows that it’ll go away eventually. And he knows that it only lasts a few minutes before she calms down and wants to play or to read a book.

“Ball, Dada.”

Plus, there’s that. Not long after Emma started officially referring to him as Sawyer’s dad, his little love started doing the same thing, and he will proudly admit that he had a few tears slip from his eyes. It’s a moment that happens in every dad’s life, but with the way he got here, well, he’s eternally thankful for it. He’s thankful that both Emma and Sawyer accept him into their lives in any capacity, but this is something else. As Emma has pointed out to him in her real life Elle Woods capacity, ejaculating into a cup does not a father make. He’s known that from the beginning, but hearing Emma say it made him laugh. It’s not about biology. It’s simply not. It’s about being there and showing up and loving even when all you want to do is run away and go back to the life where the only person you ever had to care for was yourself.

In all honesty, he thinks that’s the reason he gets to be Sawyer’s dad. It’s not that he’s sure they’re related biologically. That doesn’t even matter to him. He’s biologically related to his father, and he never did a damn thing for him except fill him with false hope and every abandonment issue known to man for the longest time. He gets to be her dad because he’s been there for it all, and he will be there for all that’s to come. If he’s learned anything about Emma, it’s that being there to hold her hand when she needs it is far more important than any flowery words or promises that can’t be kept but that sound good in the moment.

Being a parent is about being there, and for someone who didn’t get to have that, for two someone’s actually, he never wants to let Sawyer go a day without knowing just how much she is loved by him but also by everyone in her life.

How much she’s loved by her mother is something that he can’t even begin to attempt to articulate.

“Yeah, you want to play, Sawyer? We can play this morning.”

He spends the morning rolling a ball back and forth to her before she gets bored and decides to push around her shopping cart that’s filed with all of her things. With as many things that Emma has, it’s nothing compared to all of Sawyer’s possession. He swears that they multiply, and then multiply again, but with how quickly she moves on from one thing to the next, he’s glad for it. And since she’s pretty much taken over his apartment as well, he wonders how exactly she accumulates all of these things.

He and Emma are definitely culprits, Anna too, but he swears that Liam sends her a package at least once a week. They haven’t seen each other since Christmas six months ago, but they still talk almost daily, often Face-Timing when they can, and as of late, after Liam and Emma had a few rounds of arguing with each other over the phone, Liam video chats with Sawyer as well. To say he’s a bit smitten is an understatement. It’s kind of a testament to the fact that having a conversation and talking things out can solve a lot of awful situations.

All of the relationships in his life are a testament to that too.

Sometimes trust can’t be earned back, and sometimes it can.

If Liam betrays his trust again like he did, Killian’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive that. But he hopes he’s never in that situation.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs, getting up from the floor even as his joints groan. Thirty-five isn’t old in the grand scheme of things. Really, it’s rather young. But he’s not exactly a fan of some of the lines on his face even if Emma tells him that she likes the lines around his eyes when he smiles, and he’s not a fan of the way sometimes he gets sore after making love to Emma or playing on the floor with Sawyer. But it’s his age as of last month, and there’s not much he can do about it. “I have to go to work, so you have to get ready to go to nursery.”

“No.”

He chuckles even as he picks her up, letting her keep hold of Ollie. “Yes, my love, we have to go to nursery because daddy needs to be able pay his rent so that you have two apartments to spread out your things in.”

She’s got no idea what he’s talking about, no idea that there are bills to be paid and food to be bought, and she’s got no idea that even though he and Emma sleep in the same bed most nights, they’re not living together. His lease lasts at least another half of a year, and honestly, as financially smart as it would be for them to officially merge their lives, they’ve only been together for a short time. Well, no. they’ve been together for nearly a year if he doesn’t include their time apart and friends for even longer then that. Honestly, he doesn’t even know how long they’ve been together, and he’s kind of wondering if that even matters. Their lives are intricately complicated, and moving in together may be the very last thing on both of their minds. Emma is being absolutely buried with work right now, and most nights she comes home ready to go to bed several hours past when she should get off work. She’s a badass in everything that she does, and even without him getting to witness her in action, he knows that she’s a fantastic attorney.

A fantastic attorney who’s very much in love with and who he’s happy being with as they are, preconceived timelines be damned.

After he drops Sawyer off at her nursery, he takes the T to campus, the heat too much for his usual walk. He’s only got a few lectures to do today, but he does have office hours and a bit of grading to do, so he knows that it’s going to be a late afternoon for him too. He enjoys his job, enjoys what he gets to do every day, but some days aren’t for him. Very rarely does anyone in his summer classes want to be there, especially when they could be sailing around the harbor or at the beach somewhere, so his students don’t exactly love listening to him talk. But it is what it is, and the hours move by at a leisurely pace that he’s content to be a participant in.

“Knock knock,” Emma says out loud instead of physically knocking on the door. He’s surprised to see her, and when he looks up from his desk to see the smirk on her face, he knows that was her intention. “Surprised to see me?”

“Only in the best way.”

“Oh cheesy,” she laughs, walking into the room and over to him before she bands down to quickly slide her lips over his as she settles her ass down on his desk, her dress moving up her legs to show the muscles in her thighs that he loves. Seriously. She’s badass in all ways. “But I cannot say anything about that because I’m here to very romantically whisk you away from the office and take you somewhere secret.”

He raises a brow, his mind already filling with ideas. “Swan, I believe that you and I aren’t supposed to have secrets.”

“Yeah, well, this one isn’t exactly on par with you knowing that you’re my daughter’s father for nine months.”

“Emma, I – ”

“Hey,” she soothes, taking his hand and placing it on her thigh, the skin smooth under the roughness of his fingertips, “that was a joke. That’s not…Killian, I’m not mad at you over that anymore. You know that, right?”

“Aye, I know. I just – ” He stops his words to keep running his fingers over Emma’s skin before he leans down to press a kiss on her thigh. “Sometimes I think about it, about how unbelievably fucked up we were for awhile.” Emma’s looking at him with her eyes widened, reverence and affection filling them, and it makes the sudden uptick in his heartbeat calm a bit. “I love you something fierce, Killian Jones, and I don’t know about you, but I stopped worrying about us doing things the conventional way awhile ago. And if you would like to close up shop around here a little early, I can show you that.”

“Where’s our little lady?”

“She is with Anna, who has been practically begging to keep her for weeks now.” “Are we going to miss bedtime?”

“Yes, my love, we are going to miss bedtime, but I think it’s going to be worth it.”

“Just what are you up to, Emma Swan?”

She winks, and he can feel the corners of his lips tug up into a smile. “You’ll see.”

-/-

“Swan, where are we?”

She doesn’t say anything, her hand simply tugging on his from where their fingers are interlaced as she guides him into a building he doesn’t recognize. And she doesn’t say anything when she guides him up three flights of stairs and down the hall into apartment 306, their footsteps echoing with each step. There’s no furniture in here, just polished cherry wood floors and large bay windows that look out onto the street that they just came from. It’s only a little bigger than where he lives now, but it almost seems more open somehow. It’s likely the way the kitchen doesn’t take up most of the room or because of the lack of furniture. Really, though, he thinks it’s the windows and the seats beneath them that he’d love to read next to.

“So,” Emma asks, squeezing his hand and tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, “what do you think?”

“I like it. Why am I looking at it?”

“Okay, so long story short. Anna’s boyfriend’s brother just moved to Philadelphia, and his lease is still good for nine months, which was crappy planning on his part. Anyways, he’s subletting, and when it’s over, I’ve already checked to make sure I can get the lease.”

“You’re moving?”

Disappointment rushes through him, and his lips curl into a frown. She’s moving. Emma’s moving. Why the hell would she be moving when they’ve got the good system with each other right now? This is at least a thirty-minute walk across the city. That’s a hell of a lot different than thirty seconds.

“I was kind of thinking that we  could move.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“I was thinking,” Emma begins, tugging him a little closer and releasing his hand so she can press up on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck, her lips curled into a smile that makes his frown lessen, “that we move here. I know you’ve still got some time on your lease, but mine is up in two months. We basically live together, Killian, and even though I really enjoy the nights where I can sleep diagonally in my bed, I don’t see the point of paying two rents.”

“How romantic.”

She slaps the back of his head before curling her fingers into his hair, a shiver running down each vertebrae of his spine. “Hush. Dr. Jones – ”

“I do so like when you call me that.”

“Dr. Jones, Killian, my love, baby daddy because you ejaculated into a cup instead of into me – ”

He scrunches up his entire face, eyes shutting for a moment. “Bloody hell, Swan, what an awful way to put that. And technically we still don’t have official confirmation that I’m – ”

She pushes her lips into his with such force that it makes him stumble back, his hands grabbing onto her hips and his fingers tightening around the material of her dress as their bodies come together while their mouths move in a kiss that very literally took his words and his breath away.

“I don’t need the test,” she whispers before she fully pulls back, her lips tickling his with their featherlight touches. “We’ve already said that. We don’t…Killian, I don’t need it. Whatever would come back on that paper, it doesn’t matter to me even though I already know the answer.”

“It doesn’t matter to me either. I believe you were trying to ask me something.”

“Oh yeah, you want to move in with me and your daughter?” “Bloody hell, yes,” he murmurs before slanting his lips over hers again and backing her up to where he thinks there’s a wall. He’s not really sure as he’s barely looked at this place, but he knows that there’s a wall somewhere. He knows he’s found it when Emma gasps, or that may be the way he flicks his tongue against her lips and presses his hips into hers, feeling his much of her as he can. “You should probably show me the rest of this place first, though, so I can make sure it’s better than what we have. I only want to move in with you for your money.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, whatever. I love you too. Do you think we can get away with christening the place before we even move in?”

-/-

Summer cools into autumn in the way that it always does, the miserable heat and humidity slowly fading away in a way that he doesn’t notice until he’s putting on a sweater to go to work. If anything, he’s thankful for it. His body produced enough sweat over the summer, simply from existing and carrying boxes of their possessions and actual furniture up three stories into their new apartment. It took he, Rob, Kris, and Graham to move couches and mattresses and new bedframes up the stairs in a full reenactment of the pivot scene in Friends. At least he doesn’t think he’s as much of an asshole as Ross is.

Half of his furniture is in a storage unit right now waiting to be sold, and the other half is already sold. He’s kept all of his possessions, books and trinkets and every kitchen appliance he can think of, but there was really no need for him to keep a ratty recliner when Emma had a nicer set of lounge chairs. They do keep his mattress, though. It’s larger and far more comfortable, and he’ll give up a lot for Emma, but his mattress is something that was always going to have to stay.

He’s known Emma for over two years now, even if it really feels like longer, but as they’re learning, you learn a hell of a lot more about a person when you officially live with them. To start, the storage unit their excess furniture is in also houses all of Emma’s father’s possessions. He never even thought about all of her dad’s things, and apparently Emma hadn’t either until one day he was talking about how they needed a few end tables and she casually mentioned that she basically had an entire furniture store worth of stuff, not to mention boxes full of photo albums and precious memories that she’s been too nervous to go through. So one day she had taken him down to the unit, and it had been absolutely miserable. Just…it was awful. To him, it was all things he had no attachments to, but he watched as Emma ran her fingers over dusty furniture, as she thumbed through old books, and when she got to the photo albums still stacked on a bookshelf like she couldn’t stand to actually pack them up.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her close so he can run his hand up and down her back while he simply holds her as he shoulders shake. “I’m so sorry that you went through all of this alone.” “I miss him.”

“I know, love. I know.” He presses his lips into her hair, knowing she can’t feel it, but he needs a little comfort too as he thinks of his mum and the memories of having to put her things away. “We don’t have to go through any of this today or until you’re ready, but I think one day Sawyer might want to be able to see her grandpa or her mum when she was a wee one.”

He feels her nod against his chest. “Can we do it another day?” “As you wish.”

It took three more trips to the unit before they got the end tables and the photo albums, and another ten before they left with a set of bookshelves that he’s painted white to replace the ones from his apartment that couldn’t be detached from the walls. But over the summer, an empty three-bedroom apartment began to feel like home. It was even clean for a little while, the throw pillows arranged artfully and the floor clean of everything but a checkered gray and white rug and a few house plants to lighten up the place, but then Sawyer came in like a gust of wind with her possessions that are still multiplying. Now the floor is covered in playpens and toys despite the fact the there’s an entire hallway closet artfully organized with storage bins, Emma’s penmanship written across the labels. She’s still not quite old enough for cleaning on a bigger level than “Sawyer, put the ball in the box” but they’re getting there.

Or he is.

He’s usually the one to clean up.

That’s another new thing that he’s learning even though he pretty much knew about it before. He’s much cleaner than Emma, definitely more organized, and even basically living with her for months, both consecutive and not, he was not prepared. He’s been to her office several times, and that place is like a showroom for cleanliness. Seriously, everything is in perfect order, but when Emma comes home, she kicks her shoes off wherever she pleases and leaves her jeans crumpled on the closet floor, her bra usually hanging on a bookshelf. And it’s never because they got particularly enthusiastic in the living room and undressed on the way to the bedroom. It’s because she just takes it off and leaves it there.

But she leaves it there because she’s home, at their home, and if he spends five minutes out of his day picking up one of Emma’s beige work bras or hanging a skirt so it doesn’t wrinkle, he thinks that it’s worth it.

They share a home.

With their daughter.

It is beyond anything he ever could have dreamed about or wished for or wanted. It is beyond whatever facetious novel he thought up on the day Emma threw up in his toilet and he wondered how his life could possibly get weirder.

“Daddy,” Sawyer sighs, the frustration in her voice so obvious for someone still only a year and a half old, before she falls out on the ground, her limbs sticking out in every direction.

“Yeah, Sawyer?” he hums, still grading papers at the kitchen table, a pen stuck in his mouth with his glasses falling down his nose. He’s honestly got to make an appointment with the optometrist soon.

“Juice.”

Without looking he grabs her cup off of the table and holds it up until he can hear her slowly making her way over to him. She usually moves quickly, but she’s been pretty lethargic today, which is what happens when she refuses to sleep the night before and keeps both he and Emma up when Emma’s spending her day in court and he’s working from home. She takes the cup and mumbles something resembling thank you, so he whispers back a you’re welcome before wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her up to sit in his lap while she sips away. She’s pretty smart for her age (he’s not biased or anything), knows about twenty-five or so words even if she chooses not to use them sometimes and simply points. She’s the slightest bit dramatic, but her doctor assures them that everything is normal.

“Color?” she asks, smacking her hand down on the paper he’s marking up with a green pen.

“These are daddy’s colors, but I’m going to get you your own in a minute, okay? We can draw mummy a picture because she’s having a bad day.”

She doesn’t really listen to him, taking a pen and slashing a green mark across the table, and he immediately gets up with her so he can get her the crayons and large white rolls of paper that they let her have free reign on in hope that she doesn’t start drawing on the walls. They’ve still got the paint colors just in case.

In between drawing with Sawyer and grading his papers, likely missing things for how unfocused he is, the rest of their afternoon passes. He usually only has time like this in the mornings with her, all of his classes later in the afternoon this semester, but it’s kind of nice to have all day during the week. Now if Emma were here, well, then it would be so much better. But by the time Emma gets home he’s already fed Sawyer dinner and given her a bath. Emma’s usually not this late, but sometimes it happens. Her job is busy, but he knows that she likes it that way even if she would like to be home for dinner.

“Momma,” Sawyer gasps the moment Emma walks though the door, scrambling off her seat on the couch and running toward the door, only tripping once, before Emma’s dropping her purse and swooping Sawyer up in her arms. It’s a beautiful sight, one he’d like to watch forever. There’s something indescribably stunning about watching Emma with Sawyer. She wanted to be a mum, wanted it for a long time, and she does such a bloody fantastic job at it that he often watches with awe. He’s obviously glad that he came along, that they stumbled into this life, but there’s no a doubt in his mind that Emma could do this all on her own and kick ass like she does every single day.

He’s glad that she doesn’t have to do it alone, but she could. If there’s anyone in his life who inspires him, it’s her.

In every way.

“Oh, you’re already in your jammies,” Emma sighs after rousing Sawyer up, her giggles filling the room. “Are you ready to go night night?” “No.”

“Oh really? Because mommy is so ready to go night night, and I would think that daddy is too.” She looks at him for a brief moment, a soft smile on her face as she kicks out of her heels. “Hi, babe.”

“Hey, beautiful. I am so ready to go night night, especially if it means going to bed with you.” Emma rolls her eyes at him before looking down at Sawyer and affectionately rubbing her nose into Sawyer’s. “Your daddy is trying to flirt with me, baby, but the only thing we’re going to do is go to sleep like you.”

“That is totally what I meant.”

“I don’t at all believe you,” she sighs, propping up Sawyer on her hip as she walks over to him and collapses on the couch, her head landing on his shoulder as Sawyer crawls over them. “I’m so tired.”

He snakes his arm around Emma’s waist and tugs her in a little closer before kissing her cheek. “I know, love. I can put her to bed if you want to change clothes and eat dinner.”

“No, no,” she protests even as she yawns, “I’m going to do it. Just give me a minute to rest my eyes.”

The minute to rest her eyes turns into falling asleep on the couch within five minutes, and as much as he knows Emma wants to be able to put Sawyer to bed and to read her a story, he’s sure that just one day of letting her sleep a little bit will not be the end of the world. She’s exhausted, the day and this week obviously taking a toll on her, and even if she’ll probably get irritated with him for not waking her, he’s making a judgment call here.

After Sawyer is asleep, he makes his way back out into the hallway, fully planning on heading to the living room, only to be stopped by the opened bedroom door and the trail of clothes that follow it. Emma must have woken up, and when he finds her in the bathroom, she’s got one eye bare of mascara and the other smeared everywhere as she rubs it down.

“You should have woken me up.”

“You should have stayed asleep on the couch.”

“And kill my back? No thank you.”

“Love,” he sighs, resting his hip on the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest, “you are killing yourself at work right now. You deserve to get some rest.”

“I’m supposed to put her to bed. That’s always my goal. I miss a lot, but I’m going to put her to bed. And I’m missing that because I’m falling asleep on the couch.”

“Emma – ”

“I know, I know. It’s just a bad week. I don’t know. I’m just,” she sniffs, wiping away at her makeup again before turning to the sink and splashing her face with water, “I’ve spent all day watching people argue over their kids and custody, and today didn’t even seem like it was about them doing what’s best. It seemed like they were being selfish, and the only people who were getting hurt were the kids. My goal in life is for Sawyer to never doubt how much I love her, and yet I’m missing things. What if she starts doubting that?”

“Hey, no,” he protests, walking away from the doorframe and moving to stand behind Emma so he can wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin at her shoulder. “Don’t you dare start thinking that. Did you not see how she ran to you when you got home? She talks about you all day, and we spent half of our day drawing pictures for you. I don’t know what they are, but I can tell that she put a lot of heart into it.”

She chuckles, her body moving against his, and his emotions settle seeing hers do the same. “Life is hard.”

“Aye, I believe that it is.”

“Way to be optimistic.”

“Realistic.”

“Still.” She looks up at him through the mirror, and he tugs her a little closer. “On Saturday, I was thinking that we can take her to the park and then look for a Halloween costume. Anna said that her sister’s kids go to a party made for little ones, and I kind of thought it would be cute.”

“It would be adorable. You can have all weekend to spend time with the little lady, okay? She’ll love it. And I’m sure she’ll love whatever sweets we let her have.”

“Yeah, well, as much as I miss her, if she gets sugar in her, she’s your kid.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

-/-

He walks in the front door only to be bombarded by one hundred and twenty pounds of woman as Emma literally jumps in his arms, her hands holding onto his shoulders and onto his button down while her feet hang in the air, his senses coming back to him when Emma’s legs get a good grip on his waist. What in the world has he just come home to?

“Bloody hell, love, what are you doing?”

“I’m just really glad you’re home.”

He raises a brow at the hitch in her voice, but he doesn’t say anything as he continues to move them through the apartment until he’s sitting on the couch with Emma straddling his lap, her excitement palpable as she bounces up and down, which is getting him excited in a totally different way. He hasn’t seen her this excited since she got a pay raise in February a few months ago. They’d hired a babysitter and gone out to a far too expensive dinner and had far too much expensive wine. It had definitely been worth it.

“You want to tell me what has you vibrating out of your skin?” he questions as his hands settle at her hips and his eyes scan her face.

“I really, really do, but you have to promise that you’re not going to get mad at me.”

“I feel like I can’t do that until you tell me what exactly you’ve done.”

“That is such a Killian way to answer that.”

“Well, I am the one who answered it.”

She rolls her eyes, and he’s helpless to do anything but laugh. God, he loves her. “Okay, so as you know, your birthday is next week.”

“I was there for the birth.”

She slaps his chest, and he wonders if she has any idea how much strength she possesses in her arms. She likely does. It’s not as if she works out for nothing, but he seriously hopes she’s not lifting weights so she can slap him. That would be something else. “Okay, anyways smartass, your birthday is coming up, and I may have been working on a gift for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of a big thing, and I kind of…okay, I definitely need you to be on board with it. Legally, I can’t really finish this gift without you.”

“Color me intrigued.” He runs his thumbs over waist, feeling the soft skin of her stomach as he attempts to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. “Where’s our daughter, by the way?”

“Napping, which is good because this conversation is kind of about her.”

“Well God forbid the two-year-old hear us talking about her.”

“Anyways, so I’ve been thinking – ”

“Always a dangerous thing.” “You have got to shut up and let me talk.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. So I have been thinking about things lately, about us and our family. Killian, there is no one in the world who I trust more than you. No one. I love you a ridiculous amount, and if you’re willing, I have some paperwork waiting to be drafted for you to officially adopt Sawyer as your daughter. There’s a lot of legal stuff that I’m not going to bore you with right now, and us being unmarried makes it stupid complicated – ”

“I know you told me not to interrupt, but I can fix that.”

He smiles at the confusion on her face as he tries to contain his happiness over absolutely everything that’s happening right now. It’s like the perfect opportunity has fallen into his hands.

Or his lap really.

“You can what now?”

“Fix the being unmarried thing. I’ve got a ring hidden on the bookshelf. Been waiting for a good time to ask you, and I figure what better a time can there be to ask you when you’re giving me legal talk about officially becoming Sawyer’s dad?”

Emma’s lips are parted, her cheeks tinted red, and despite the absolute exuberance he feels right now over absolutely all of his wants coming to fruition, he can’t help the smug smile that’s forming on his lips while his fingers continue to rub at her stomach.

“Are you serious?”

“I am indeed. Liam brought me our mum’s ring when they came to visit for Christmas so I could have it fixed up, and with the bastard’s track record at telling you secrets, I’m surprised you didn’t know.” “Well, he has obviously gotten better.” She has to readjust herself on his lap before she cups his cheeks with her hands and slants her lips over his several times in quick succession, each getting deeper than the last, stirring him up and settling him down all at once. “You have to ask me.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do now that you’ve brought it up and everything.”

“I mean, if you say so,” he sighs, mock annoyance tainting his voice even though he could not be happier than he is right now. “Emma Swan, love of my life, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yeah, Killian, yeah I will.” Her kiss is slow and lingering, drawing him in as she draws it out, and he gets lost in it, lost in her, lost in them. He loves her so damn much, and he whispers the words against her lips the moment that they part before Emma speaks. “Killian Jones, love of my life, will you do me the honor of officially adopting your kid?”

“Yeah, love, yeah I will.”

-/-

Seven months later there are rings on their fingers, papers filed, and he thinks that there is nothing that could make his life any better as he sits on the floor of their bathroom with Emma sitting next to him, their toes knocking against each other while they both take deep breaths at the sight in front of them.

“I’m pregnant,” Emma whispers, the words reverberating around the room until they settle somewhere around his steadily beating heart.

“God, I hope I’m the father this time too.”

[domesticangel]

ok ok a 68 plymouth gtx for ris is perfection but what do u think the rest of the squadra has? i really wanna say one of them has a studebaker somehow but i just dont know (ignore it was a us based company i love them anyways shhhh)

god. this is the best ask i couldve ever gotten. buckle up. ha ha. bc cars. and also bc I’m not gonna shut the fuck up

but YEAH NO SAME i also chose to foolishly disregard that italians wouldnt likely drive american cars (or necessarily drive at all…america is mad obsessed with cars compared to a lot of other countries so sdkfhsdkj) bc its all fun and games so ik a lot of this would be unrealistic but I’m american so i really only know about american cars/cars that are popular in america dskjfsdkjf so sorry for America-Centrism On Main but if any italians or ppl w knowledge of italian cars wanna chime in w their own takes, by all means!!!

oh and this post also foolishly assumes la sqaudra has money. lets pretend for just this post they all actually got paid for their jobs

SO WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY warning this is gonna make this post rly long but I’m gonna ad pics of the cars i think they’d all drive like. in case anyone reading wants to know what they look like but doesn’t wanna look em all up so I’m gonna throw this under a cut in case it gets crazy

ok i can 1000% see sorbet and gelato sharing a like studebaker speedster that they would take out cruising for special occasions….it would spend most of its time under a tarp locked in a garage bc if you touch that car without permission you WILL die by their loving intertwined hands. some couples have babies. some couples get dogs. sorbet and gelato got a studebaker speedster and treated it with almost as much love as they do each other. one might think their driving would match the “crazy” impression everyone has of them but honestly? they prefer to take it slow and cruise so they have more time to enjoy each others company. on the job they’ll wreck a rental all to hell, but not their baby. the rest of squadra would low key fear for their lives on the rare occasion that sorbet and gelato offered them rides in their car bc the inside is spotless and they all knew if they left anything out of place or dirtier than they found it their time was up

i think they’d dig a color scheme something like this; still looks mob and sophisticated without losing the whimsicality u feel me

i really like a classic chevelle ss or ‘67 mustang gt500 for formaggio

(ignore how fuckin shiney these are bc make no mistake his would be scratched and worn all to hell)

in line w my headcanon that he’d be knowledgable about cars, i think he’d like supe them up and mod them for street racing or 1960s style drag racing. since we don’t get a lot of individual sqaudra backstory i sometimes think about him maybe losing his parents at a young age or having a bad home life as is typical of passione members and getting taken in by a local mechanic, and only as he got older realizing the shop had mafia ties which eventually paved the way for his induction etc but the knowledge and interest in cars always stuck with him. i think he’d probably drive the most recklessly out of all of squadra (rivaled only by ghiaccio ofc) bc he just loves to go fast as fuck and show off. he’s definitely a revs-the-engine-when-he-drives-by-someone-cute ass bitch

illuso would drive a ‘71 dodge demon, and honestly only because he liked the name and how it looked

it would honestly drive formaggio insane that illuso would ONLY use this car to get around as opposed to flying down the countryside or doing burnouts in a field. illuso doesn’t know much about cars and he doesn’t care to learn either; if it looks good and the engine turns he’s happy. formaggio would BEG him to race him or let him take it for a spin, but illuso would be adamant in turning him down every time. he has no desire to take risks and tear up a perfectly good car, but if he feels especially generous he’ll let formaggio ride with him while formaggio excitedly rattles off specs illuso doesn’t understand in the slightest. he won’t readily admit to it but seeing formaggio that excited is really endearing and illuso would even end up learning something here and there from their time spent together

ghiaccio is anal enough about All Things Italian that he breaks my disclaimer and actually does drive an italian car. y'all already know what the fuck is going on

hell yeah ghiaccio drives a lambo. ‘71 lamborghini miura to be exact. and boy does he make this motherfucker screech and drift. as much as he seems to abuse the car he’s extremely uptight about upkeep and will take it in as often as needed for repairs. you can also bet your ass he’d berate any of his fellow squadra members that didn’t drive italian-made cars, asking them why they’d choose to drive that trash on wheels when their country is home to the best cars in the entire fucking world and they have their pick. being in the passenger seat with him at the wheel is terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but he’s actually a very skilled driver, like to the point that he probably couldve been a stunt car driver if he wanted. but whatever you do don’t show any adverse reactions to his hard turns or brakes bc he will take it as a personal insult to his skill as a driver and you will find that the louder his voice gets the heavier his foot gets on the gas so Good Fucking Luck. (also yes ik we already see ghiaccio driving a car in canon but its headcanon time and during headcanon time ghiaccio rocks the fucking lambo)

prosciutto would drive a big beautiful blue ‘65 thunderbird convertible

he would also be very particular about the upkeep of his car, but without any sort of personal touch; he hasn’t the time nor desire to keep up with the car himself so he just makes sure he takes it to a reputable shop to do it for him. it’s not his “baby” or an heirloom; its just a car. it runs and looks good as all fuck while doing it so thats all he really cares about tbh. that said, if anyone ever scratched or keyed or dented it they wouldn’t live long to regret bc as a wise man once said, you don’t fuck with a mans automobile. i mentioned this in the my squadra meme as well, but even though he smokes like a chimney, he NEVER smokes in his car. no smoking, eating, or drinking in the thunderbird. sealed packs of cigs in the console only and if the seals been broken it has to stay in your pocket. the upholstery is pristine and he prefers to keep it that way. he’s a very mild mannered driver and even often errs on the side of slow; he doesn’t really see the point in wasting gas by speeding or messing up the tires or alignment by showboating. he knows that he AND the car already look good enough to command bystanders’ attention so he doesn’t waste his time with any extra flashiness

ima keep it real with you chief: melone would drive a car you could fuck in the back of and thats about all there is to it, so look no further than the spacious ‘61 chrysler newport

he would somehow figure out a way to get an aux cord and a sound system in this old motherfucker and would listen to his music so loud it about rattled the doors off, much to any passengers’ chagrin. he’s almost worse to ride with than formaggio or ghiaccio because he texts and messes with the music the entire time he’s driving. like its almost impressive how often he manages to NOT have his hands on the wheel. he’s a master knee-driver. all that in mind the rest of squadra groans in unison when melone offers to drive and risotto, who doesn’t have time for a squabble, gives the ok and send them on their way bc they know they’re gonna have to deal with melone insisting that driver picks the music and white knuckling the handles the whole time. but regardless, if the chrysler’s rockin and the britney’s boppin, don’t come a-knockin

since i see pesci as the youngest i think he’d be the last to get a car, but the rest of squadra would surprise him by all pitching in and getting him a ‘69 buick sport wagon

it’d definitely be a fixer-upper (prosciutto insisted it’d be good for pesci to retroactively “earn” the car by learning how to take care of it, prompting the rest of squadra to point out prosciutto never even learned how to fix a car himself) but pesci would be out of his mind appreciative of it either way. after years of only ever riding in the back seat of someone else’s car he’d be so excited about finally having a car to call his own. formaggio would take him under his wing and show him everything he needed to do to make sure she stayed running in tip-top shape and they’d grow pretty close over it; formaggio would lose his damn mind the first time he’d convince pesci to do a burnout on his own. pesci would try his best to keep the car clean but he’d probably have a bad habit of leaving empty drink bottles in the floorboard or extra jackets in the back seat, but all in all he’d do a pretty good job taking care of the car and making the generous gift from his team worth it. most non-work related outings would have pesci chauffeuring, but he wouldn’t mind, bc seeing all his friends crammed into his car and having a good time would make him really happy

and last but not least risotto and his ‘68 plymouth gtx 🖤

perhaps surprisingly he wouldnt be excessively meticulous about upkeep; he definitely wouldnt do anything needlessly reckless to harm the car or neglectful of standard upkeep, but he would definitely see it as more of a personal part of him than a machine that needed to maintain perfection. he wouldn’t really sweat scratches or dents here and there; they’re bound to happen to a car that old and if he found the time he’d take it to get it buffed. like i said in the hc meme i think it would’ve belonged to his father (or any family member he was close to really) and it was passed onto him when he died so it’s kind of a sentimental thing for risotto. though not quite the same level as formaggio, he’s fairly good at making standard repairs on his own, and doesn’t mind spending a weekend or two up under the car fixing it up and making sure it runs smooth. the rest of squadra would each be surprised the first time they ever rode anywhere with him; the second the car started old classic rock or metal would blast through the speakers, with risotto mumbling a quick sorry and turning it down, but not all the way off. they would find out that their stoic leader prefers to drive with the windows down, one hand on the wheel, other out the window tapping to the beat of the music on the hood

aaaaaaaaand YEAH. i told you i wasn’t gonna shut the fuck up DSFHKJADHKSDJ LMAO SORRY I WENT TF OFF BUT YEAH THOSE ARE MY. SQUADRA CLASSIC CAR HCs

[strangershield]

The Mind Reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Read Part Two Here , Part Three , Part Four

Warnings: very mild language

A/N: I’m very proud of this one so I hope you enjoy. I might do a part two if you guys like it and I get enough feedback? Saying that, it is over 5k words so I apologise. I’m back working on requests now x

-

-

-

‘Dammit I have a Spanish test’

‘Her skirt is really cute’

‘Lunch better be good today’

The thoughts float around in your head in an organized chaos. Each thought is fleeting and almost disappears as soon as it comes. It’s always like this in crowded areas. Take the school hallway for example. You lose count of how many people you pass, and how many thoughts cross your mind. Mind reading is an ability you only acquired a few weeks ago but you think you could control it now, to a certain extent. You no longer thought you were going crazy, or wanted to rip your brain out of your head. It was hectic, yes, but it was almost calming. The thoughts could mute out your own, if you wanted, or add humour to your day. Seriously, teenagers think of the weirdest things. Adjusting the grip on your backpack you made your way to first period: chemistry. You passed Flash on the way and almost lost it when he started thinking about whether he should be a full time DJ. 

‘I’ve done two parties now and people love it. People love me. Hell yeah I could be a DJ.’

When you entered the classroom you made your way to the back row. It was easier to concentrate back here as people weren’t surrounding you. You could also discretely put a headphone in. Music helped drown out the thoughts because unfortunately you didn’t need to know everything 24/7. It got exhausting and unnerving. Besides, you almost failed the last chemistry test so you needed to concentrate. You were thankful that you didn’t have this class with MJ. You loved her but she thought of the weirdest and funniest crap. Mind reading was a weird ability to have. It was more annoying than helpful, and so far you couldn’t figure out how to turn it ‘off’. Yes it was harmless, but reading thoughts seemed like an invasion of privacy, especially around your friends. You always tried to not pay attention to their thoughts or drown them out, but it didn’t always work. Luckily you hadn’t heard anything you shouldn’t have yet. Well, technically everything is something you shouldn’t have heard, but nothing catastrophic anyway. The bell sounded just as the teacher entered. Immediately his thoughts entered yours and you were bombarded with his feelings about his most recent fight with his boyfriend. Well this should be an interesting class. 

-

-

By the time lunch arrives you are drained. Today seemed to be extra difficult as every thought was heavy with emotion. Usually it wasn’t this bad, but it got worse when you were tired or stressed. You couldn’t block thoughts as easily so every little idea crossed your own mind. If someone else complained about homework you might go insane. MJ was already at your table when you arrived and collapsed next to her, bringing your face to your hands. Yep, today you were going insane. Her thoughts began to leak to you like an oil spill, and there was nothing you could do but sit and listen to them. Thankfully she was tired today too and wasn’t thinking about much. Ned and Peter soon joined you. You greeted them without lifting your head, the weight of everyone’s thoughts too much. 

“You okay?” Ned asked, sitting opposite you. 

You nodded and almost laughed when he thought, ‘she doesn’t look okay but I’m hungry.’

With a sigh you sat up straight and started eating. Your mood slowly improved as conversation flowed. MJ was preoccupied with a book but you were happy to go along with Peter and Ned’s conversation. Mind reading made these interactions more fun as you knew exactly what the other person was thinking. It’s funny how often people lie to please their friends. 

“So what are you doing tonight?” Peter asked you. 

Shrugging, you replied, “homework I think. You?”

“Stark internship.” He replied quickly. 

Oh yes. The holy Stark internship. Half the time you wondered what he actually did there. You imagined him running around getting Starbucks for the Avengers and cleaning their weapons. It was unrealistic but humorous. You nodded and grabbed your water. When you took a sip Peter’s thoughts entered your mind. 

‘I really need to fix the web design. I can’t be Spiderman with no webs.’

You choked on the water and proceeded to have a coughing fit. Peter and Ned looked at you immediately and thoughts of concern entered your head. MJ simply glanced up then continued reading. You assured them that you were fine and recovered partly. Peter was Spiderman. Peter Parker. Shit. You knew you weren’t supposed to know that, and it only made you angry. Stupid powers. They kept talking but you were no longer focusing. You were friends with Spiderman, and your friend was Spiderman. Your food was forgotten about as you tried to process this new information. Did Ned know? Obviously he did. Peter isn’t that great at keeping secrets. You doubted that MJ knew since she hardly took an interest in your lives in general. A part of you was disappointed that Peter hadn’t told you, but you quickly pushed the feeling away. It’s not like he knew about your powers. Then again, you weren’t an Avenger or a superhero who risked their life daily. More and more thoughts crossed your brain, causing you to physically wince. With your own thoughts it was getting too much. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.” Ned said as he took another bite of his sandwich. 

“You stopped eating, do you feel sick?” Peter asked, sincerely worried. You wanted to smile and reassure them that you were fine but your brain was on fire. It was a migraine times twenty. You could hardly speak as you abruptly stood up and staggered out of the cafeteria. You think you mentioned the bathroom but everything felt like a trance. After wandering aimlessly you stumbled into an empty hallway. You collapsed onto the nearest wall and slide down it until you were sitting on the floor, knees bent. Immediately the pressure was released in your brain as you were alone, the pain now similar to a normal migraine. No one was nearby so no thoughts could bother you. After a few deep breaths you managed to reduce the throbbing to a dull headache. Sitting alone in the cold hallway, you finally allowed yourself to think. So Peter was a superhero, which was unexpected but not surprising. After all, he was the bravest and smartest kid you knew. But a superhero? He had powers too. That part made you excited and you thought of all of the possible conversations you two could have. He might understand your pain and struggles. You could bond over that. But you couldn’t tell him your power. Well, you should since you knew about his secret, but you couldn’t. No one could know. You didn’t want or need to be a hero. You wanted to be an average teenage girl (who could read minds). He needed to know that you knew at least. But how? You groaned and put your head on your knees and hugged your legs to your chest. Life seemed impossible at various moments, and today was no exception. 

-

-

“(Y/N)!” 

You stopped and turned in the direction of the voice. Amidst the now crowded hallway you spotted one Peter Parker rushing towards you as fast as he could in the sea of bodies. You stayed next to the classroom door until he finally made it to you. 

‘That would’ve been a lot faster if I used my powers.’

His thought sent a joint through your spine, another reminder that he was Spiderman. The two of you joined the crowd as you walked to your locker. It was the end of the day and you couldn’t wait to get home and be alone. Your brain needed a rest. 

“How are you? And don’t say okay.” He said, raising his voice slightly so that he could be heard over everyone. It dawned on you that you hadn’t seen him since lunch and cursed. You didn’t know what to tell him. 

“Um yeah, just had a headache.” You said quickly. You let out a sigh of relief when you reached your locker. 

“A headache? (Y/N), I thought you were going to pass out.”

You froze, your lock combination half done. “It was a really bad headache?”

He looked down and you swore he let out a sigh. Was he annoyed at you? When he met your eyes again he looked defeated and immediately you felt bad. 

‘Doesn’t she know I care about her?’

You blushed but turned back to your lock when Peter raised an eyebrow. Awkwardly he cleared his throat and asked if you wanted to go over to his place to study. 

“Now? What about the Stark thing?” You asked, closing your locker. 

He shrugged. “It’s not like I do much there on a weekday anyway. Besides, we have that, um, maths quiz.”

‘Please say yes.’

You smiled and rolled your eyes. Maybe you could tell him you knew his secret. “Okay, lead the way Parker.”

-

-

After Peter opened the door to his apartment he let you in first, where you were presented with a woman rushing around madly. Peter closed the door with a soft thud and looked around the room in confusion. 

“May?” He asked. 

His aunt stopped to look at you both and smiled before she continued rushing around. The two of you remained standing where you were as she threw various items into her bag. Peter tried again. 

“What’s going on?”

This time she stopped and closed her bag. “As of five minutes ago I have a date.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “A date? Like a date date?”

May rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yes, a date date.”

“But it’s 4pm.”

She shrugged. “It’ll take me an hour to get there. He lives outside of Queens.”

Peter readjusted the grip on his bag and didn’t say anything, but he drew his lips into a very thin line. 

‘It doesn’t sound right. She shouldn’t go. Maybe I should go too. No that’s just weird.’

You smiled to yourself at Peter’s protectiveness over his aunt. Though he didn’t talk about it much you knew his parents had both been killed and his aunt was the only family he had left. You didn’t know her very well but you always admired her. Deciding that she had everything May grabbed her keys and walked over to Peter and yourself. 

“Now I’ve left some meatloaf in the fridge that you can heat up if you’re hungry. I should be back by ten but keep your phone on you. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Peter nodded and pulled a face when she kissed his head, but his thoughts revealed how much he loved the affection. 

“(Y/N) it’s lovely to see you sweetie. Stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks May.”

She smiled and headed out the door. “Have fun, but not too much fun!”

And with that she closed the door and left. Peter stood stunned in his own apartment before he came to his senses and moved to his room. You followed him as he hastily made apologies about his aunt and the messy apartment (it seemed perfectly neat to you). Sometimes you wished people could read your mind, like now for example, so Peter could really see how much you didn’t mind and how you actually loved his aunt and his apartment, mess and all. Once in his room you took off your backpack and sat on a chair as he sat on his bed. Both of you got the appropriate books out and organized your things. You really liked being with Peter. He calmed you and he didn’t think a lot or make his thoughts loud, which was now an extremely valuable trait to you. There in his room, there was a genuine silence that settled between you two which extended to your mind. It wasn’t awkward or forced, just comfortable. You could tell he was tired and you guessed that you looked the same. Hoping to get your mind working you turned to the stack of books that were now on Peter’s desk. 

“Okay so what did you want to go over? I’m okay with geometry but can’t do trig to save my life. Maybe if we start at chapter 2a...Pete?”

You looked up to find him slouched over his books, eyes drooping at a rapid pace. When he heard his name he jolted upright and looked at you, confused. 

“What? Sorry (Y/N).” He sighed. 

You frowned and moved the chair closer to him. Maths could wait. 

“What’s going on?” You asked softly. 

He shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t been sleeping much...and I’ve been busy with the Stark thing and school.”

You smiled out of sympathy as he stared at the floor. He genuinely looked tired and overworked. And now you knew that he was Spiderman, well his tiredness made more sense. He went to speak again when his phone buzzed. You saw it was a message from Ned before he leant over his books to pick up his phone, leaning closer to you as he did. Almost immediately his mood seemed to perk up, energy now radiating off him, as he read the message. 

‘Finally something good.’

He went to jump up but glanced up at you and stopped. 

‘Shit, I can’t leave (Y/N).’

“What?” You asked, acting like you couldn’t read his mind. He froze, trying to think of an excuse to leave. His eyes darted across the room nervously. With a sigh you allowed yourself to accept the truth. You had to tell him. 

“Peter, go.”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “What are you talking about? Everything’s fine, I just need to-“

“I know you’re Spiderman.”

He went silent and froze. He stared at you, unblinking, as he slowly turned pale. You internally groaned. That was a mistake. 

“(Y/N), I, erm, I mean what do you, um, I’m not-“

“Stop,” you sighed. “Go Peter. It’s fine. We’ll talk when you get back.”

He didn’t move, only stared at you with his big brown eyes. God they were dangerous. Slowly he stood and faced you, his face dangerously white with shock. 

“(Y/N), please...”

“Go Peter. I’ll be waiting.”

He quickly looked at his phone again, as if he was making sure there was actually an emergency, before turning back to you. His eyes had gone wide and were full of regret and sorrow. They made you giddy and sad all at once. Finally he sighed and moved to his closet where he revealed a decent sized case. Carefully he opened it to reveal his suit, packed precisely. It was perfect, and you realized just how much he loved being Spiderman and what he did. It made you feel a bit guilty since this could be you and your life. You could be happy and helping others, yet you were too scared to face to world. Besides, mind reading was useless, at least that’s what you told yourself. You left his room to let him change and when you returned he was already gone. 

-

-

It was sunset when he finally returned. After completing your homework you played on your phone and studied Peter’s room, fascinated by every little detail. It was clean and neat but had so many hidden secrets or objects. You laughed to yourself when you stumbled upon LEGO Star Wars figures. Even they were set up perfectly in their own place. When Peter did stumble back into his room you were sitting on his bed. Hastily you threw down your phone and stood up as he closed the window and took off his mask. You had to admit that you were speechless. He left before in such a rush that you didn’t see him in the suit. Now you were stunned by how much older and mature it made him look. You half expected him to look like an oversized kid without the mask but he looked like something else. A hero. He glanced at you and gave a weary smile, but you could tell that he was nervous. Peter sat next to you on his bed and stared at his mask which he held in his lap. You stared at your hands but let your eyes flicker over to him every so often. The silence still wasn’t awkward, but now it wasn’t exactly comfortable. It felt like there was an electric current between you, ready to strike at any moment. Peter cleared his throat, making you turn your head towards him. He didn’t lift his eyes. 

“So, I’m Spiderman.”

You smiled and nodded. “I know.”

He frowned. “Yeah, but how? Was it Ned?”

“No! No, it wasn’t Ned.” You quickly replied. Instantly you saw him sigh in relief and felt guilty again. You couldn’t let him think that his best friend betrayed him, and you hated that the thought even crossed his mind. Ned had nothing to do with it. It was you. All you. 

“It’s...well it’s complicated.” You finally said, not sure how to tell him. 

‘How did she find out? If she tells anyone I’m screwed. Oh god, what will Mr Stark say?’

His thoughts came across quick and scattered in your mind. It was then that you realized just how worried he was. Spiderman was a big deal to him. No, it meant the world to him. You’d never seen him so happy or so invested in anything. He had a right to know, even if it hurt you. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” You mumbled. He looked at you sideways as his eyebrows came together in slight confusion. You knew that was because the thought had crossed his mind, yet he dismissed it for coincidence. You sighed and glanced over at him. The light from the setting sun behind Peter was blinding, and it bathed him in a golden light. It blurred his edges and imperfections. His tousled hair became fairer, his skin tanner, his suit a pale red. It was a beautiful sight but you couldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment. You had to carry on and get the job done. He had a right to know. 

“I found out...from you.” You started slowly, trying to explain it simply to Peter. However you were already failing miserably as his eyes grew wide. 

“Me?”

You stuttered and stumbled over words until you thought of a coherent sentence. “Let me start again. I found out through you, yes. But you didn’t say it. You...you thought it.”

Peter’s face grew more confused as you tried to tell him the truth without explicitly saying it. 

“Thought it?”

“Um, yeah. Because, well a couple of weeks ago, I was in an accident.”

“Yeah I remember, I had to FaceTime you to explain the chemistry formula while you lied in bed.”

You laughed softly at the memory. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. 

“Yes, that accident. But it did more than confine me to my bed.”

You turned to face him and, for a moment, you were tempted to take his hands into yours but decided against it. That was too intimate. 

“Pete, I’m going to sound crazy.” You laughed nervously. Your eyes couldn’t meet his. Sensing your anxiety Peter leant over and grabbed your hands. You smiled internally as his warm hands squeezed yours to comfort you. He didn’t let go. 

“(Y/N), I’m freaking Spiderman. I think I can handle anything.”

You gave him a weak smile as he looked at you with anticipation clear in in his eyes. You proceeded. 

“I...I can read minds.”

Silence followed your confession as it laid heavily between you both. Peter’s grip on your hands loosened but he didn’t let go. His face went slack, as did his thoughts. For once it was impossible to read him. There was no thoughts or expressions. Nothing. He was a blank canvas, and nothing terrified you more. 

“Peter, please say something.” You finally whispered as you waited for the verdict. When he didn’t respond you begrudgingly removed your hands from his, recoiling away from him. You needed to leave. 

“Wait,” He stammered. “You read minds?”

You were now frozen on the edge of his bed, his eyes staring intently at you. 

‘Please don’t leave’. 

You settled in your new position, legs over the side of the bed, but made no effort to face him again. The distance was almost unbearable to you after being so close. 

“I read minds.” You repeated. 

‘What am I thinking about?’. 

You giggled as Peter’s thought entered your head. He raised his eyebrows. 

“You actually-“

“Know you’re asking me what you’re thinking about? Yep.”

Slowly a smile spread across his face. 

“That’s freaking awesome! Mind reading!”

You blushed and bit your lip, shocked by his reaction. 

“Awesome?”

“Of course it is. Shit (Y/N), you read minds.”

This time you laughed. The bed shifted as Peter moved to sit next to you. He sat centimetres away from you, shoulders almost touching. It made your heart race. 

“You know that this means we can fight crime together right?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Absolutely not.”

His face dropped. “What? Why?”

“I’m no hero. I don’t want to fight bad guys or save cats from trees. I want to be a teenager who works and complains about school and goes to parties-“

“You hate parties.”

“Not the point Peter.”

You stared at your hands, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t understand. He was fearless and brave, unlike you. You were so lost in your thoughts that you jumped when something touched your hand. It was Peter trying to pull your hands into his own. You let him but didn’t meet his eyes. 

“I wish I could read your mind.” He mumbled.  

You laughed. “Me too.”

Peter shook his head and gripped your hands. “No, you don’t understand. I want to know what you’re thinking and feeling. I want to know what you see in yourself. Why don’t you believe in yourself? What do I say? I’m lost, but I swear I’m trying to help. I’m just not good at it.”

Slowly you looked up to find him looking away. Gently you removed one hand from his grip to turn his face towards yours. His dark eyes looked down in defeat. 

“Hey, it’s not your fault. In fact, you’re amazing. You’re my best friend Peter. Trust me, I wish you could read my mind too so you could see that I’m freaking out but I trust you. I do...”

Your voice grew quieter as you spoke until it was barely a whisper. Peter raised his hand to lay it over yours, which was still cradling his cheek. You stayed like this for a while, but one irritating thought just wouldn’t leave your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push it away it remained. You had to ask. 

“Were you going to tell me?” You asked, pulling your hands back to yourself. Peter let go and looked at you. 

‘Spiderman?’ He thought. You nodded sheepishly. 

“Yes...no. I don’t know,” he confessed. “I wanted to, I really did. But it was a risk and I...” 

Peter trailed off as your heart sank. He wasn’t going to tell you? You knew it was unfair to be mad at him, after all you weren’t planning on telling him about your powers, but it felt personal.

“Who else?” You asked. When he started to shake his head you snapped. “Peter don’t freaking lie to me. I know Ned knows. Does MJ? Did you tell everyone but me?”

“(Y/N) calm down! No, they don’t...they didn’t know. Ned found out by accident, I wasn’t going to tell him. I haven’t told MJ so I think she doesn’t know, but she knows everything.”

“And me?”

“You were different.”

You laughed sarcastically. “How Peter, enlighten me.”

“I like you.” He almost screamed, competing with your increasing volume. You blinked at him, both your cheeks red from yelling. The two of you never fought, so this was all new. And then he had...feelings? For you? You felt dizzy and you failed to think of something to say. Your mind was blank and Peter was tense: you could feel it radiating off him. 

‘Say something.’ 

His thought was desperate and weak but there all the same. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, when you finally spoke. 

“Me?” You muttered. 

Peter nodded and refused to meet your eyes as well. The silence was crushing you as you stared at anything but Peter. If this was a movie, you would have confessed your own attraction and he would have proceeded to kiss you as the final credits rolled. Alas, this was reality where nothing was quite as perfect. Instead neither of you would speak or look each other in the eye. Each person was killing the other. You knew you had to speak, to say something, to save Peter from his misery. Yet no words would come to mind. Nothing. For the first time in a while, your mind was completely silent. No thoughts from you or Peter, only a void. 

“I...” you began but quickly stopped, realizing you didn’t know how that sentence was going to continue. 

“Don’t, (Y/N). Just don’t. I don’t need your pity.” His voice was emotionless and sent tears to your eyes. How could you do this, hurt your best friend? The boy who loved you? Time was slipping away and you had to act quickly, otherwise it would be too late. 

“I don’t know what to say...”

“(Y/N), I said don’t. Just go-“

“Peter shut the hell up!” You interrupted. “I don’t know what to say because I’m terrified, because I feel the same way. And I want this to be perfect but it’s not and I’m not good enough.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. 

‘Not good enough?’

He finally looked you in the eye, his own raw with emotion. “Are you kidding? You? You are perfect, and I mean it.”

You laughed in sorrow. “Says the boy who saves people’s lives and can swing building to building.”

“So what if I can jump from a building to another? That doesn’t matter. I will never be as smart or as kind or as beautiful as you, and that’s what matters.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with shock. He genuinely cared about you, your best friend. Your Spiderman. Clumsily Peter fumbled for your hand, not once breaking eye contact, and pulled them into his lap. You gripped onto his hands out of love and fear. This was everything you ever wanted, yet you never imagined feeling so scared. You shifted and moved your body to fully face him, Peter then following your lead. Finally here you were, face to face. No secrets. No judgement. No powers. Just two teenagers who were desperately in love, and nothing terrified them more. 

“Shit Peter, I don’t want to stuff this up.” You confessed, your eyes flickering down to your holding hands. 

“Me too,” Peter said, taking in a shaky breath. “I can’t lose you.”

And there it lay, the imminent truth, exposed and in the open. There was no returning now to what you were before. This was end game. Eventually you loosened the grip on his hands and you both sat in silence, tracing patterns on each other’s palms. There was something intimate about the small gesture that made you take a leap of faith. 

“Can I tell you something?” You whispered as talking seemed too loud. Peter nodded, staring at you intently as he bit his lip. God he was adorable. 

“I can’t control my powers, and they terrify me. And I don’t know who else to tell but you.”

Peter nodded understandably, his face full of concentration. 

‘Think Parker, it’s your time to shine. But oh my god she’s so beautiful...shit she can hear this can’t she?’

Peter sheepishly looked up and grimaced when he saw humour in your eyes. 

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry. See, THIS is why it’s a problem.” You explained. Internally you couldn’t believe that he thought you were pretty. “And you don’t have to prove yourself. You know that right?”

Peter nodded and gave your hand a squeeze. By this stage you had figured out that not only did he love physical affection, but he loved hand holding. And that was adorable. 

“I know, but it’s you and I like you and...that’s it!” He broke off mid-sentence and stared at you, eyes mimicking a child’s in a candy store. You raised an eyebrow, curious. 

“What? What’s it?”

“I know how to deal with your powers. The Avengers!”

You gave him a sympathetic smile. “Pete, thank you, but I already said-“

“You don’t want to be a hero, I get it. But I know the Avengers. They could help you understand and control your powers. Besides, I did travel to Berlin for Stark so he owes me one.”

Joy and excitement filled you. The Avengers? Helping you? It seemed surreal but it made sense; they were all heroes with powers or a better understanding of how they worked. 

“You would do that for me?” You asked with a small voice. 

“I’d do anything for you.”

It was easily the cheesiest thing for Peter to say, but in the moment it was perfect. Looking at his excited eyes you allowed yourself to smile wide. He smiled back, energy radiating off the two of you. In the moment you flung yourself at Peter and hugged him tight, arms clinging around his neck. After the initial surprise Peter relaxed and hugged you back, his hands holding your waist. His hands sent electricity through your body. You had never felt more alive or loved than in that moment. He laughed in your ear at your happiness, his warm breath fanning your neck. You buried your head into the crook of his collarbone and held him, your body melting into his. The closeness didn’t feel intimidating or awkward to either of you: it felt right. Tomorrow things would become complicated and difficult. Peter would contact the Avengers and your training would begin. Soon he would be out in the field again, being a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. But in that moment, nothing mattered but the closeness of your bodies and the undeniable happiness that both of you felt. And it was in that moment that you truly, whole heartedly fell for Peter. As fate would have it, it was the exact moment that Peter fell for you too. You knew it before the thought even crossed your mind. 

‘God, I love you (Y/N). ‘

[andrethegiant3001]

You Owe Me a Fifty

Summary:  Will Darcy knows that one day his thing with Elizabeth Bennet is going to get him in trouble. He’s also not nearly strong enough to stop it. Modern AU in which Lizzie has to plan Jane’s wedding and Darcy just wants a dance (and maybe something more).

The first thing that Will Darcy notices about Elizabeth Bennet is that she seems remarkably skilled at convincing others to make horrible decisions.

Within the first hour of their acquaintance, she manages to convince Charlie, Will’s self-proclaimed best friend and Elizabeth’s sister’s new boyfriend, to order all his food while doing his best Sean Connery impression, challenges their waiter – who is a guy around their age and clearly unopposed to obliging a pretty girl’s silly requests – to make her one collective drink out of every non-alcoholic beverage on the menu, and tricks Darcy into believing that his drink was spiked by the same waiter she was flirting with moments earlier.

He doesn’t really care if she was flirting with him or not. He just thinks it’s relevant to the context of the story. That’s all, okay?

He calls her impulsive and irresponsible. She returns the favour by quite bluntly telling him that he’s prick with a stick up his arse. They argue throughout most of the evening, attracting the attention of just about every other person in the restaurant. The entire affair makes Jane and Charlie very uncomfortable. To say things get off to a rocky start would be a huge understatement.

And then, somewhere between the second and third hour of their insanely tense ‘get to know your best mate’s/sister’s significant other’ dinner, Elizabeth makes a quip about Darcy being a craptastic wanker, and instead of insulting her back like she expects him to, Darcy laughs because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more ridiculous insult. And then Elizabeth laughs. And suddenly, the atmosphere shifts and everything is entirely too friendly and not nearly as hostile as moments ago.

They spend the rest of the night talking to each other and basically ignoring Charlie and Jane, who stopped listening by the second hour of arguing anyway. Lizzie contests basically all his opinions, but it’s not because she dislikes him, it’s because she genuinely has reasons to disagree. He can barely think about how intriguing she’s become to him over the euphoria of having an actual conversation.

He’s pretty sure that he’s been severely deprived of them because of the amount of time he’s had to spend with Charlie’s sisters.

By the end of the night, Darcy and Lizzie are acting like they’ve known each other for years. They part ways after the meal and Darcy doesn’t know when he’ll see her again. He expects it to fade away, just like all the other acquaintanceships he’s made over the years.

And that’s probably what would have happened…if Lizzie was just about any other girl on the planet.

But she’s the Elizabeth Bennet, so things between them inevitably escalate.

It all starts with a snapchat he gets about a week later.

He hates Snapchat and told her as much during dinner, but she refused to listen and downloaded it on to his phone. He doesn’t know why he won’t just delete it.

(It’s not like he’s keeping it just in case Lizzie snapchats him. Cause that would be ridiculous.)

She asks him if he wants to come over because she’s had a bad day and Jane can’t hang out. Even though he has a pile of work the size of the Eiffel Tower, he says yes, because all of a sudden, he’s incapable of saying no to women he’s only spent five hours with.

He suspects that it’s not women in general, as much as it’s Lizzie Bennet that he is unable to say no to.

After that, it becomes a thing. Whenever one of them has a bad day, they call up the other. They cook and argue and watch dumb movies they find on Netflix (most of them with one-star ratings). They spend their free time together and Will will admit that spending time with her is always the highlight of his day.

Then all of a sudden, there’s a shift. Lizzie invites Darcy to a wedding as a date. Well, it’s kind of a date. They never call it a date, but that’s what it feels like. Lizzie makes a joke of it. She says that she needs him around at horrible events like these because he’s the only one that will make very loud, snarky comments with her. He goes along with it because she’s right. They’re both much too judgmental for their own good and it feels weirdly appropriate to do this with each other. So then that becomes a thing to; inviting each other to painful social events to stay entertained.

It never develops into something explicitly. They’re not acquaintances or friends. They’re just Lizzie and Darcy. Like Batman and Robin. Or Scully and Mulder if things between them hadn’t gotten so sexual.

He still thinks they should have stayed platonic, but he’s also a sap for a good love story. His feelings for ‘The X Files’ are pretty inconsistent.

(His feelings for Lizzie are pretty inconsistent too…)

He also quickly finds out that he was one hundred percent right when he observed that Lizzie was good at convincing people to make bad decisions.

He loses track of the number of mistakes he makes during the course of their strange thing, from the time when she dares him to make a sexual innuendo out of every sentence he says at a rather boring dinner party with Charlie’s sisters, to the time when she gets him well and truly smashed while on a lunch date at a fancy restaurant with his cousin, his cousin’s fiancé and his surly aunt. All his worst ideas seem to be planted into his mind by her.

Like that inception shit! She was the inceptor!

… He really shouldn’t reference movies he hasn’t seen.

And the bad decisions only intensify in number and degree when they start sleeping together. Will honestly isn’t sure how it starts.

Except he kind of (completely) knows how it starts and it’s kind of (completely) his fault.

They’re watching Die Hard on the day before Christmas Eve, when he starts complaining about the unrealistic qualities of the movie. Lizzie cuts him off with a rant about ‘movie superiority complex’ and how he should try shutting his brain off for two hours to enjoy at least one part of his fucking miserable life.

Okay, so he’ll come clean. Sometimes he complains about things just to get her to argue with him. He likes watching her as her voice takes on that passionate tone, her posture straightens, and her cheeks flush a little because she gets so worked up. But the best part is at the end, when she smirks at him because she thinks she’s won.

When she looks that sexy he’s pretty sure that he’s the only one winning.

She keeps going, oblivious to the fact that he isn’t really listening to her, but instead intently staring at her lips as she continues to spit rapid fire word vomit at him at a hundred miles per hour.

And then he does the thing. The stupid thing that is definitely going to get him in trouble somehow. The stupid thing that he’s spent such a long time convincing himself not to do. The stupid thing that will most likely destroy him and the small amount of willpower that he still possesses regarding Elizabeth Bennet.

He leans in and kisses her. Catches her completely unaware as he cuts off what he’s sure was a winning speech on the positive qualities of Die Hard.

It’s probably the worst decision he’s ever made, and Lizzie didn’t even make him do it.

But when she responds eagerly to his lips on hers and pulls him down with her when she falls back onto the couch, allowing him to settle himself between her legs and explore every curve and groove of her body, he can no longer remember why this is such a horrible idea when it feels so fucking good.

He pushes her shirt up, letting his mouth move lazily across the skin of her stomach and grins against her skin when she gasps unceremoniously as he gets closer and closer to the edge of her underwear.

Yup, this definitely means trouble.

That leads to a whole new category of inappropriate things she can convince him to do at the most inappropriate times.

And honestly, who is he to refuse her when she pushes him into the closet at Charlie’s house – or anywhere else she pleases– and kisses him until his head is spinning, before proceeding to do some other very inappropriate things to him and then slipping back out, acting as though nothing happened.

A year and six months after Jane and Charlie start dating, he asks her to marry him and she enthusiastically agrees, to Lizzie’s absolute horror. From what Darcy understands of the situation – which is very little – Lizzie now has to plan Jane’s wedding. He’s fairly certain that it has something to do with a bet or a deal they made when they were younger, but he honestly hasn’t the energy to comprehend such things.

He doesn’t have a clue why Lizzie would ever make any kind of deal involving weddings. She hated them with a passion.

After rigorous planning on Lizzie’s part, the big day finally arrives.

Darcy doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lizzie more stressed than in the hours leading up to the wedding. She’s practically pulling her hair out as she phones everyone in the city, confirming arrangements with everyone from the florist to the magician that’s coming in to entertain the children at the reception. He doesn’t really know what he should do, so he does what he does whenever he doubts his course of action. Nothing. He figures that it’s best to stay out of Lizzie’s way until she comes to find him.

And she does just that around an hour before the ceremony. He’s (reluctantly) making polite conversation with Caroline Bingley when she comes up to them, pulling him away with some unconvincing excuse of having to verify the meal plans that he’s sure she’s personally verified more than enough. Then, once they’re out of everyone’s sight, she pushes him into an empty room.

As soon as they’re in the room, she slots her lips to his and kisses him intensely, barely giving him any time to respond. He finally wraps his arms around her waist and opens his mouth when she runs her tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. His hands slide down her body and she grins against his lips when they grab her ass. She breaks the kiss, quickly moving to down to work on his jaw and neck.

“Lizzie?” He says in a strained voice.

“Yeah?” She says as she kisses her way down his body slowly, sucking whenever he moans quietly and slowly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Remember how we talked about finding appropriate times for this?” He barely makes the words come out as he feels her hot lips travelling down his chest and to the area right above his belt buckle.

“No, I don’t seem to recall,” she smiles up at him, and it takes all his strength not to just give in right then and there. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips are slightly red from when they were on his and her makeup is done to perfection. She looks absolutely stunning.

Goddamn, she is actually going to be the death of him. He is so screwed.

(Pun fully intended.)

“Well, Charlie and Jane’s wedding is definitely an inappropri-” he cuts off with a groan as she undoes his belt buckle and he feels her hot breath just above his briefs.

Instead of going down any farther (like he kind of wants her too) she stands up slowly, pushing him against the wall and bringing their lips as close as possible without touching.

“You were saying?” She whispers, then lets her gaze fall to his lips once again.

He’s the one to close the distance, bringing their lips together in a kiss that wakes up every part of his body and makes her moan into his mouth just a little too loudly.  

He convinces himself that this is her doing, her fault that he does irresponsible things. But he knows that’s wrong. He just can’t help himself.

The wedding is beautiful and all of Lizzie’s hard work as the maid of honour/wedding planner extraordinaire pays off. Her mother cries, her sisters shoot Jane jealous looks and her father lets a tear slip as he gives away his oldest daughter. Even the cold, unfeeling cockroach that is Caroline Bingley seems touched by the ceremony.

She’d probably feel differently if she knew who had organized it.

Everything looks perfect, down to the last flower petal, just how Jane likes things. The only downside is that Darcy can’t stop staring at Lizzie the whole fucking time.

She just looks so goddamn beautiful and she’s not even the one getting married.   

That thought just causes a whole series of completely inappropriate images to flash through his mind, all of them involving Lizzie wearing a wedding dress.  

He’s not sure how this happened. He knows that it all started as a casual fuck. They had been good friends, but not dependent on each other. They had both been opposed to a relationship, so everything had been good to go. Zero feelings involved.

Except, somewhere in between being her friend and her fuck buddy, Will realized what it meant for them to be both at the same time. It meant something more.

And it’s become something more. At least it has for him. Now, he wants to stay the night whenever they sleep together and then make her tea in the morning. He wants to be able to greet her with a hug in public that lasts just a little longer than it should and catch the smiles she sends him that are only for him.

That may be a problem. Elizabeth Bennet is not his type. Well, not in a relationship at least. He’s used to professionals, which sounds weird because a relationship is as personal as it gets, but the girls he usually dates are rigid, uptight and neatly reserved. They serve his public life. He is a corporate lawyer after all. He needs someone he can take to a professional event that won’t try to expose that he’s ticklish or something.

Elizabeth Bennet is a lot of things, but professional is not one of them. He’s not sure he could convince her to be boring for even one evening. He also doesn’t think he would want to. Lizzie is bright, mysterious and funny. The very opposite of boring.

And he honestly doesn’t think he could watch her turn into anything else, even for the sake of his career.

Despite these sane, rational reasons as to why he shouldn’t turn their current relationship into something more, he finds himself wanting to anyways. Sure, he has  fancies outside of his type before, but usually it’s purely physical. A quick shag once or twice and the feeling is gone, and he can move on to his next ‘professional girlfriend’. But he’s already with Lizzie in a purely physical sense and it’s still not enough.

Regarding Lizzie’s feeling for him, her emotions were always a mystery. He doesn’t know if she’s interested in something more, but he does know that he’s not willing to bruise his ego for a girlfriend.      

Or a fiancé. Or a wife…      

HOLD YOUR HORSES, DARCY! THAT’S GOING A LITTLE FAR!   

No, he’s fine with being her fuck buddy who’s in love with her on the side.      

Wait to make it sound pathetic.

His table at the reception is the strangest grouping of people he thinks he’s ever seen. Calling Jane and Charlie’s families incompatible would be an understatement. The Bennet sisters spend the entire time gossiping about high school drama, while Caroline looks downright scandalised to have so many low-level people sitting near her. Mrs. Bennet can’t seem to shut up, going on and on about how proud she is of Jane and how beautiful she looks and how handsome Charlie looks. Charlie’s parents, who have to listen to all of this, look ready to jump off a bridge. Mr. Bennet stays silent for most of the night, but Darcy occasionally catches him shooting smiles at Lizzie, his favourite daughter.

He can’t blame Mr. Bennet for picking favourites because she’s Darcy’s favourite Bennet sister too.

Despite the noise and chaos, he’s happy. Lizzie grips his hand under the table whenever her mom says anything particularly embarrassing and he runs the pad of his thumb over her knuckles in a fashion that he hopes is comforting. She spends the entire dinner whispering stupid jokes in his ear and daring him to do ridiculous things she knows he won’t follow through on. It’s a little exciting, knowing that they’re the only ones that know about them.

You know what would be even more exciting?

If everyone knew.

He spends the entire reception trying to spend some time with Lizzie. He can’t help it, he really just wants to pull her into his arms and drag her out on the dance floor. He hates dancing. He’s good at it because his mum put him through so many dancing classes when he was younger. He used to complain constantly about how it was a useless skill, but his mum would always respond with a secretive smile, claiming that she was sure it would come in handy someday.

And now at the age of twenty-six, he finally understands what she meant. He’s happy that he can bring a girl out on the dance floor and know exactly what he’s doing. He can’t imagine how mortifying it would be if he didn’t know how to dance at all. Unfortunately, this realization is quite useless when Lizzie is literally running around the entire place trying to make everything run smoothly.

He tries to catch her, but each time, without fail, she manages to smirk, say something flirty and then run away. He’s starting to wonder if he did something wrong and she’s doing it on purpose.

In the end he does get his dance though. It’s not until Jane and Charlie have left for their honeymoon.

Charlie and Jane were enchanted by the evening. Their words not his, although if he’s being honest, he’s pretty enchanted by it all too. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be in Charlie’s position.

Or what it would be like to have Lizzie in Jane’s position.

Man, he really needs to just shoot himself at this point.

Once most of the party has cleared out, he finds himself cleaning up the reception room which is one of the ballrooms of a very nice hotel. He knows he doesn’t have to because the hotel workers who are actually getting paid will do it, but his mum always taught him to clean up after himself and he’s never quite been able to let that go.

He feels someone’s (Lizzie’s) hands encircle his waist and spins around to bring his lips to hers, lifting her up as she kisses him back. He can feel her smile widen against his lips.

This. This feeling is what he wants to feel all the fucking time.

He lowers her to the ground and and looks into her eyes which suddenly brighten.

“I have an idea,” she whispers excitedly.

“You do?” He teases, and she moves away from him and turns around, sticking her tongue out at him over her shoulder.

She moves over to the mixing table and plugs her phone into the aux cord. Her eyes skim over her phones as she looks for a song, then turns around as the first couple chords come out of the speakers and shoots him a dramatic look.

“Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band,” she sings loudly and clearly, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

He laughs and she opens her eyes and smiles at him. She keeps singing and walking towards him as though she’s serenading him.

He loves it when she’s like this. At times like this, she manages to make him someone he’s not. Someone that doesn’t care what others think. He becomes interesting around her. Every moment with her is an adventure. She’s getting into the role and trying to pull him in too, and heaven knows he can’t refuse her. He starts singing every other line, like they’re having a conversation that was written by Elton John.

They keep singing the lines of the song back and forth as she gets closer and closer to him and when she’s finally close enough, he grabs her waist and pulls her into his chest, singing lowly as the music continues on.

He leads her around the room, using the skills he developed over the ten years he thought had been a waste, and enjoying the feeling of dancing for the first time in his life.

“This is a fantastic song to dance to Liz.”

“Really? It was either this or U Can’t Touch This,” she hums and he laughs softly.

“Must have been a pretty tough competition,” he kisses her collarbone, delighting in the way she reacts to his touch.

“It was, it took me all night to decide.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been putting off this dance with me,” he tries to keep the relief out of his voice, but he’s pretty sure he fails.

“Yup,” she pops the p, “well that and the fact that if I danced with you, Lydia, Kitty and my mum would start planning another wedding before this one could even finish,” she rolls her eyes.

“And that would be bad,” he says it like a statement but he’s pretty sure he means it as a question.

Something flashes across Lizzie’s face. It’s a hint of fear or vulnerability. The same emotion that comes across anyone’s face when they’re questioning a relationship they don’t know how to define.

But then it’s gone and she’s smiling again.

“Trust me, you don’t want my mum or my sisters on our case,” Lizzie sighs and nestles her head against his chest, casting her eyes away from his as they rock back and forth lightly. It effectively shuts off the conversation and as much as he’d like to enjoy the feeling of Lizzie in his arms, he finds himself thinking about the flash in her eyes. That moment in which both of them could have dared to ask the question.

Would it really be so bad if people found out about them?

The song is about to end and for some reason, he knows he’s going to ask. He knows he’s going to ask the question because now it’s floating around between them. He’s not sure if the thing he feels right now is entirely new, so maybe it’s been hovering over them for a while now. The new part is that now they’ve acknowledged it.

As the last note fades out, Darcy squeezes her hip lightly so she’ll look up at him, “Lizzie, I think we should-” his voice catches in his throat because she’s staring at his lips. Her hands, which were previously hanging lightly around his neck, are now moving down his back, sending shivers down his spine.

She smirks, “You were saying?”

“I think we should-” he cuts off with a groan when she shifts one of her legs in between his and kisses her way up his jaw, nipping and licking whenever she feels like it.

“Lizzie,” he warns. He knows that it’ll just make her want to tease him more. She likes him like this, fighting hard to win against her, but not being able to.

He decides to take a different route, “I have to clean,” he’s a little embarrassed at how breathless he sounds.

She scoffs at his lame excuse, “How about you do that right after you take me up to your hotel room?”

He groans dramatically letting his head fall down on to her shoulder.

“Oh no, I’m Will Darcy and a sexy, intelligent, stable woman wants to have sex with me! What a tragedy!” Lizzie imitates, her voice going an octave lower in a hilarious attempt to sound more like him.

“Sexy and intelligent I can agree with,” he whispers into her ear, “but stable? Have you met yourself Lizzie?”

“Many times, and I can confirm that I am an absolute delight-” he cuts her off with a kiss which she quickly returns, taking it deeper before he can even realize that he initiated it.

“So your room?” She giggles between kisses.

“Yeah, okay.”

Goddamnit Darcy, when did you become such a pansy?

They keep it together in the lobby and down the halls of the first floor before finally breaking in the elevator when she melts into him and kisses him squarely on the mouth, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. He grabs her arse so he can lift her up and press her against the wall of the small compartment.

He’s too busy snogging her senseless and feeling every inch of exposed skin he can to hear the elevator ding way earlier than it should. Or the elevator doors sliding open as him and Lizzie continue to make out, completely unaware of anyone watching.

He becomes very aware the second he hears a high pitched shriek. Lizzie pushes him away, looking absolutely mortified as she stares out the elevator doors. Darcy reluctantly turns around, only to be met by the incredulous looks of two identical sixteen year old girls.

Yes, Lydia and Kitty had caught them making out. And for the record, it was all Lizzie’s fault. If she hadn’t kissed him in the elevator, then none of this would have happened. He should’ve known that her mischievous ways would get them caught sooner than later

“I don’t know what you two think you just saw,” Lizzie starts, walking out of the elevator towards them, her eyes absolutely menacing, “but it was nothing. Got it?”

Ouch…

(Yes, he knows that she doesn’t mean that and just wants to get rid of them, but still… ouch.)

Darcy settles for standing in the door of the elevator to keep it open. He really doesn’t want to get involved.

One of them sniggers – he thinks it’s Kitty – and says, “That didn’t look like nothing. I’m proud of you Lizzie. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”.

Lizzie just stares at her, astonished. Will is sure that Lizzie’s about to tear them both down, but before she can say anything, Lydia steps in, “I believed in you Liz. Which reminds me,” she turns on Kitty, “you owe me a fifty.”

Kitty sighs while Lydia continues to grin wolfishly, apparently extremely proud of herself.

“I take it back, I’m not proud of you. I thought you had self control. Dignity. You were the sister that wasn’t supposed to throw herself at every hot guy that walked by,” Kitty shakes her head, but then she turns her head to Darcy and looks him up and down, “but I guess he isn’t just any hot guy,” she smirks at Lizzie.

“Did I just get checked out by a fucking sixteen year old?” It just slips out and Darcy realizes that he literally has no more control over any of his actions.

“Eighteen,” Kitty and Lydia snap at the same time.

“What a huge difference,” Lizzie says sarcastically, rolling her eyes at them.

“It is actually,” Lydia says matter-of-factly.

“We’re legal now,” Kitty throws in.

“Oh my god, that’s disgusting,” Lizzie groans.

Darcy can’t help it, he lets out a laugh. All three Bennet sisters turn to him.

“Do you find my pain funny?” Lizzie asks.

“No,” he says cautiously, “but you have to admit this is all pretty funny.” She doesn’t look amused so he keeps going, “I mean, we’re caught snogging by your sisters. Turns out they’ve been betting on us all along and, to top it all off, they start hitting on me. I mean, it’s kind of bloody hilarious.”

And then both Kitty and Lydia let out a laugh and suddenly he’s laughing along with them and now Lizzie’s the only one that looks put out by the situation. He lets go of the elevator door and walks over to her, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards him.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Let’s just get rid of them and then we’ll talk,” he says to her. She sighs, but then nods her head reluctantly.

“Okay whatever,” she turns to her sisters, “I’ll cut you a deal. You keep your mouths shut about what you saw, and in exchange, I’ll pretend that I didn’t see you guys sneaking out of your room to get drunk and flirt with guys at the hotel bar,” Lizzie says casually.

Lydia and Kitty scowl at her, but then nod their heads.

“Okay deal,” both Lydia and Kitty stick their hands out and Lizzie shakes them. It all feels much too formal and drug deal-esque for a family agreement, but Will can’t really judge considering his own family.

Lizzie and Darcy stick around while Lydia and Kitty wait for the elevator. The doors are about to close when Lydia says, “A piece of advice, you guys should just go public already. Everyone’s waiting for it. Also, I have a lot of bets on you guys so the sooner it happens, the sooner I get my money,” and that’s when the doors close and all that’s left behind is Lizzie, Darcy and tension.

His three favourite things.

Neither of them know what to say. He feels her pain. He can’t even imagine the mortification and endless teasing that would be warranted if his sister had caught them, and he actually liked Georgie.

“So… your sisters know,” he says carefully.

“They’re not my sisters. They’re little devils,” she says bitterly and he laughs lightly.

“Hey,” he says, putting his finger under her chin and lifting her head up so he can meet her eyes, “We can just explain that we’re not serious. Or we can go back to being friends. Crisis averted.”

He hopes that he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he feels because he really does not want to go back to being friends. On the other hand, if that’s the only way he can be with Lizzie, he’s okay with that.

“Okay… so let’s call that plan B,” she says slowly, taking a deep breath, “but I think that plan A should be telling people about… us.”

“Us?” He asks blankly.

“Yeah,” she continues nervously, “and maybe instead of pretending that this is some casual thing, we could actually go on a date and be a real thing.”

“A real thing?”

“Yeah,” she smirks, “and maybe you could actually say something to reassure me. I’m really going out on a limb here Will.”

And in response to that, he just kisses her. He’s never been very good with his words, but he’s really good at other things. Lizzie slides her hands into his hair, playing with it and pulling him even closer as she lets his tongue search her mouth.

She pulls away and catches her breath, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

In response, he just pulls her in for another kiss.

So yeah, maybe Will makes bad decisions when he’s with Lizzie. But at least they’re making them together.

[miraculouskpop]

MKP Series | The Beginnings

☆ Miraculous KPOP | AU Series ☆

Title: The Beginnings

Characters: Amber, Sehun, Jungkook, Jungyeon, Lisa and Jimin + Kwamis

Synopsis: Before they were ever heroes, they were simple people. A basic introduction to everyone meeting their kwami for the first time.

Words: 4941 ( yeah it’s freaking long whoops )

A/n: This will go according to the Miraculous Ladybug timeline/canon where Marionette, Adrien to Alya and eventually Chole will receive their miraculouses, and then AU listing of who receives their miraculous first.

🐞 Amber / Ladybug 🐞

Wait.... Wait.... Wait.

Something’s not processing correctly. Or is she perhaps hallucinating? Amber blinked a few times, and that thing still wouldn’t budge from its position. The moment she laid eyes on this drastically different... spotted looking creature with those freakishly huge blue eyes gazing at her, Amber had reached the deep end. She’s insane, she has finally lost her mind! She figured her intense scheduling and homesickness couldn’t be that bad, but yes, it’s severely bad. So, so bad to the point she’s literally seeing things that shouldn’t be seen.

And then, it opened its mouth.

“Hello! My name is Tikki-”

“Oh my god!” Okay, she didn’t mean to overreact like this, but it‘s rather inevitable. The thing just freaking like, opened its oddly human shaped mouth and talked to her! And she’s suppose to remain calm? The girl backed away as her mind reeled with questions, and more importantly, how to GTFO this dorm quickly and safely as possible. The thing seemed suddenly concerned by its rather worried look, “Oh, no! It’s perfectly okay! You’re safe with me.” It smiled.

Okay, what the hell is going on here? “How can you even speak? Why are you here? And what exactly are you?” Amber’s hand fell on the desk behind her, fingertips brushing against what felt like a book. She quickly grabbed the book and swung at the creature, but it missed by the margin. The thing now appeared upset with its hands- well, no, but it might as well be called hands, resting on its hips.“I would gladly answer all of your questions if you could please calm down. My name is Tikki, and I am a kwami, okay? I am a goddess the embodies the power of good luck! I am presented specifically to you because you are selected to be the next Ladybug.”

The next...”what?” How does- what, why?

“You see, remember when you helped that man from earlier today?” The question had Amber’s mind reeling back from this morning. In fact, she do recall assisting an elderly man across the street even when she was running late... “Yeah, but what does that has to do with anything?”

“You helping that person showed great consideration that most people do not have these day. He decided to select you as the next miraculous holder because of that simple act, which is why you received the earrings on your bed.” The girl glanced at the red polka dotted earrings discarded on the edge of her bed and raised an eyebrow. “Errm...great...? But I don’t even wear earrings, so...” She trailed off. C’mon, it really doesn’t fit her masculine style. She always worn majority of her clothing monotone with rusted color, and not to mention her hair doesn’t exactly compliment those earrings, anyway. 

“Amber, those earrings weren’t given to you simply for no reason. You will be gifted with supernatural abilities far greater than you can fathom!” Wait. How does this thing- okay, kwami or whatever, knows her name? “Well, I can give them to Krystal or Sulli. They’ll love it, and I’m just a simple girl who’s trying to survive life right now.” A fleeting thought made Amber pause. Abilities? This was already surreal enough as it is, but becoming a superhero? That’s one of her hidden desires she’d kill for whenever she’s reading Marvel comics. Imagine that, a rookie girl like herself trying to attain fame while adjusting to a new country and trying to maintain her own identity while fighting crime. Sounds like an interesting plotline, but still, none of this makes sense and everything’s happening all too suddenly.

“Amber...” The kwami flew towards her so abruptly that the poor girl nearly went cross-eyed. “This is serious. This is not a dream, nor a hallucination. I am a hundred percent real as any other person with the exception that I am not a human being.”

...She must’ve lost it.

“No Amber, you did not lose anything. In fact, I believe taking the role as a new Ladybug will greatly boost your confidence level as a person and find characteristics that you yourself might be surprised by!” Everything felt too unrealistic to be considered as definite truth, and yet the more Amber thought about it, the more she felt curious. However, within the midst of curiosity held deep reluctance. She wasn’t exactly popular by male standards and many people were not fond of her presence... Accepting this offer will only add more responsibilities and insanity to her already chaotic life.

Even so, the child within herself sprang free at the possibility of being more than average. Someone... important. With a sigh, Amber folded her arms and gave the ladybug a careful look, “Okay, fine.” She said, “I have no idea what’s going on and I can’t say I believe you at the moment, but uh, I’ll pretend that I do.” She’s hoping to wake up an minute now... any minute...

“Great! I’ll tell you all about it. But first, you need to wear those earrings.”

“No.”

“Amber...! You have to wear the earrings.”

“Over my dead body. Do I look like an ultra feminine Sailor Moon to you?” Amber showcased her point by flashing her rugged black hoodie, cap and shorts.

“Why would it matter when inner beauty is key?”

“...No.”

“You won’t be able to transform until you wear them.”  

“Well, I can have my roommate wear them unless really needed.” She didn’t want to deal with the hassle of wearing accessories. It’s already painful enough being coated with pounds of foundation and makeup... “Devastation is near, and if we allow him to destroy the country then it’s only a matter of time before he conquers the entirety of this world!” Tikki exclaimed. Although too many questions invaded the girl’s mind, but she didn’t allow the thoughts to fester as she slowly placed each earring into her ears with a dreaded sigh.  

“Okay, fine... what now?”

“Oh Amber, this is a wonderful progression! I am so happy you have accepted your new role as Ladybug. Let me explain that in order to activate the miraculous is to call me by my name, and say, “Spots on!” And I’ll transfer into the earrings to give you power.” Amber pursed her lips in thought.

“So, you want me to say it now?” Her roommates and managers is literally across the room, and here she is talking to a mystical ladybug? Okay. Tikki nodded eagerly, “It would be the first stepping stone to greater things. I’m sorry for rushing you, but I thought maybe this way could influence you...” 

“Sure, I guess.” She felt a little embarrassed about this, but...”Tikki, spots on...- woah!” Amber didn’t get the chance to blink before a streak of red zipped across the room and into her small pair of red earrings.

🐺 Sehun / Wolf 🐺

He’s tired. Very tired. So tired it feels like sleep is clinging onto his body similar to that of hungry leeches. All he wanted to do is plop onto the bedsheets and pass out, but he knew his manager would not approve of him sleeping without at least taking a shower. Well, it’s not like he usually sleep without showing regardless. But whatever. God, what time is it, anyways? Sehun glanced at the clock and nearly did a double take. Crap, is it eleven o’clock already? He could’ve done other things if it wasn’t for his hyungs nagging him to stay...

The boy closed the door behind him with a sigh. His baggy clothes felt suddenly sticky and wet along with his stringy bleak hair falling between his face.

Ew.

A loud growl rippled through Sehun’s stomach as he frowned. Neither did he realize how hungry he was until he walked towards the kitchen in absolute happiness, only to then find the refrigerator completely empty. “Great...” Sehun grumbled as he closed the refrigerator door, then whipped out his cell to send his hyungs a text to pick up some more food. He checked the cabinets to find a few packets of ramen noodles stashed near the corner, so it’ll have to do for now. In the meantime, he should probably prepare for bed. After quick shower, the young boy went to the kitchen to prepare some ramen. While waiting for the water to boil, Sehun gazed at his cell phone for any response from his friends. Well, guess he say former friends now. After being scouted by SM and accepting their offer, none of his friends have been supportive of the decision, and perhaps it wasn’t the best choice he made. Even so, Sehun figured that maybe it’ll all work out in the end.

Guess not.

He didn’t mean to cause a rift within the friendships, but none of his friends had responded to him lately, so... it kind of hurts. Maybe this is his entire fault. He just wanted to be something more than...- nevermind. He sat his cellphone on the countertops and snatched the black box laying idly on the table. He happened to find it on his bed this morning and never bothered to opened it. Perhaps one of his hyungs gave it to him as a gift? Curiosity peaked his interest as he opened the box.

It’s a watch. Looks pretty neat. Sehun looked at the object a little more until a flash of bright light blinded him. With a high pitched squeak the teenager dropped the box. What was that? Did a light bulb blowed? He felt a little embarrassed for responding rather... badly, but the moment he glanced at the counter something completely grasped his attention.

Wolf. Thing. Flying?

No. Nevermind.

...And yet Sehun cannot look away.

It’s staring at him with those bright yellow eyes. Nope. Not real- “are you going to continue staring at me like that or do I have to introduce myself?”

“What the absolute fuc-”

“Ah ah ah...” The thing tsked, “No swearing within the perimeter of my presence, please.” Did- did it just talk? Sehun gawked at the flying animal thing as fear suddenly gripped him tightly. He couldn’t move, and even if he wanted to speak no words seemed to utter from his mouth.

“Let’s get things settle here. My name is Apollo, and I am a kwami god gifted with tremendous power of power and protection. I shall be your new guardian since you have opened the box. And that,” it pointed at the watch, “Will be your new miraculous to wear in order to transform into the appropriate hero.”

...What?

“W-what- why are you talking?!” OhmygodIamseeingshitwhatthehellisgoingon- “This is a trick, right? Someone’s pulling my leg...”

“No legs are pulled here, child.”

“Why are you talking!”

“Am I not allowed to speak?”

“No! I mean, I don’t even know what you are-”

“I just stated that I am a kwami.”

“Like I know what the hell that is!”

“Perhaps if you opened your mind and closed your mouth, then you can finally comprehend my words.” The thing ( yes, thing. ) retorted. Sehun felt immediate irritation creeping on him the longer he stood. This is severe amount of BS someone did, and whoever the person is Sehun hopes that person’s ass gets kicked to another dimension.

“We kwamis are presented to people who carry heroic qualities about themselves. Well, unfortunately, not all of the kwamis per-say, but most of us. However, there are people who abuse kwamis for self gratification, so that is why the master guardian shields all miraculouses from the public.”

“Okay, great, nice, but can you find someone else to harass? I’m trying to eat and go to bed, so-.” A second later, the wolf thing hovered directly in front of Sehun with its topaz eyes searing into his soul, “You. Are. Appointed.” It emphasized its husky voice on each word, “Do you honestly believe I am going to waste my infinite time with an obnoxious human being like yourself? Please, if that’s the case then I would’ve been freed from this unnecessary obligation!” It barked, “But of course, I have my mandated responsibilities just like you humans do, and so, it is not an option for you to reject me.”

“What are you saying?” Why does it feel normal talking to this thing? The thing released a long drawn out sigh. It backed away from Sehun slowly and stood on the table, “Me Apollo. Me a kwami. I give powers. This? MIR-AC-ULOUS...” Sehun growled. This piece of crap is obviously insulting his intelligence, isn’t it? “Okay, whatever, stop it.”

“I’ll cease to belittle your minuscule intelligence once you grasp the basics of communication. Oh, and by the way... do you happen to have tea? Goodness, after decades of being trapped in that miraculous I’m rather famished!” It flew in and out of the cabinets until a box of green tea packets fell on top of Sehun’s head.

And here they are at the table with a bowl of ramen and a cup of tea. How did this even happen? Honestly, at this point Sehun cannot even remember...

“So, that watch is actually some mystically enhanced jewelry piece?”

“Ah, not quite. Most jewelry pieces are small and dainty. I take pride of this watch! An enormous progression of history if I must say so myself.”

“Right... I’m going to be a...?”

“Miraculous wielder and protector of other active miraculouses. An occurring through divine or supernatural intervention, or manifesting such power. ”

“Kind of like a shounen hero?”

“Whatever you see fit.” The kwami, Apollo, stated before lapping up the bits of hot green tea. Sehun laid back within his chair as he allowed the information to process. Hm...hero, right? It reminds him of those typical shounen- well, moreso shoujo animes where there’s tiny talking animals introducing a new power to the main characters. Perhaps it’s the same thing with these uh, kwamis, right? Actually, why is he becoming comfortable with this? He should’ve called the cops on this little freak and have him experimented on. But then again, he’s not that heartless...

“Alright, whatever, fine. I’ll accept.”

Apollo looked up in surprise, “Hm, quite an immediate response. Are you sure you don’t need anymore time?” He asked.

“Nah. Honestly, I got nothing to lose besides my already draining sanity. And besides, it’ll give me something better to do than train. Didn’t you say you weren’t going to take “no” for an answer, anyway?”

“Hm, indeed. I had expected a series of denial and rejection from you, but I was wrong.”

“Great.” Sehun removed the watch out of the box before fiddling with it. He noticed the intricate designs encased around what appears to be a figured wolf within the center. The roman numerals rotated around the wolf with little and big hand aligned at twelve. Eventually, he slipped the watch onto his wrist and relished the coolness of it.

“Are you interested in testing your abilities?”

“I don’t see why not.” If he’s going to become one, might as well get used to this. Then again, he’ll have to see once he wakes up tomorrow.

“Very well. Then call me by name, and then say, “Howl through.” I will enter into the-”

“Apollo, howl through.”

“But I’m not-finished!” The poor wolf kwami did not receive the chance to finish his sentence before he was sucked into the watch.

🐱 Jungkook / Kwan Kat 🐱

As far as Jungkook can remember it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-eight days, thirty-two hours, six minutes and forty seconds since Ladybug and Wolf appeared on the scene. The moment he knew that there’s something more than life itself. He became a huge fan of the heroes and started a Naver fansite dedicated to the two, taking up majority of his time just like rookie idol training and school. Perhaps even more than school itself.

Whenever an attack happens in the city, Jungkook quickly excuses himself and whips out his camera to take good quality photos of the duo and akuma. On most conspiracy websites, it’s been theorized that akumas originate far from the city... a possible manipulator of some sort? It’s recognized that the perpetrator feeds off toxic emotions of anger and sadness. It kind of reminds him of those villains where they attack from a distance, almost as if...

“He’s using us as pawns.” Everyone groans around him.

Jungkook frowned, “What? It’s the only way possible. After all, no one have managed to find the culprit behind these possessions?” He can’t help it! There’s so many possibilities out there, and the only resource he has is Ladybug and Wolf. Note to self: make sure to interview Ladybug and Wolf soon... “C’mon Jungkook, there’s other things to talk about besides them. Can’t you see they’re way out of our league? Let them handle it.” Jin said.

“I know, but...”

“But nothing! You’ve been talking about it nonstop since the incident happened months ago. Do yourself and everyone a favor and stop. You probably think they’ll bend their knees for someone as average as us? Yah, give me a break!” Yoongi scoffed as he scooted out of his chair. The other rookies glanced at the round table as Yoongi continued to lecture Jungkook, “I have yet to see them interview anyone, and frankly, I doubt they care about us, let alone you. They believe they are so special because they have powers? Yeah, no.”

“...They...have normal identities, too...” Jungkook shrunk in his seat slowly as Yoongi relentlessly berated him until the elder walked away in frustration, leaving the poor boy alone in silence. With a sigh, the maknae pushed away his food and left the table. He could feel the anger rising in his chest reflecting over the incident. The further he focused on it, a sense of dark energy radiated from his mind...

They’re wrong.

He cannot be moved. Or else it’ll consume him, too.

.

Is he dreaming? No, he can’t possibly...

There stood Ladybug and Wolf. His heroes. On top of the balcony asking for him, Jeon Jungkook, to help them personally? The boy wiped his eyes as he edged closer outside the window. But honestly, what can he do? He doesn’t have much to offer them, let alone anyone else, so...-

“We’re not asking if you’re physically capable. We’re interested in your willingness to help us.” The wolf boy stated.

“B-but what can I do? I wanna help... though, why are you guys asking me? There’s so many people out there that’s better than me! I’m just a freaking fanboy!” And everyone teases him about it at school. Ugh... just thinking about the humiliation yesterday still recoils deep in his stomach. He’s not good at talking, either! Won’t he just embarrass them if he decides to help? Jungkook was lost in his own thoughts he never noticed Ladybug closing in on his personal space until he looked up.

“True. We could find someone better, but a friend of mines gave me a recommendation about you. I think if you stopped doubting yourself, then you can go far. So, are you interested or not?”

Is he? This might be his one time offer, so- “yes!” Yes, YES! Jungkook nodded as Ladybug smiled, “Good. Here, you’ll need this.” The heroine pulled out a tiny black box and handed it to the teen. Without a second thought Jungkook opened the box, only for a spark of light to startle him, “Woah!”  The light disappeared, and the boy was met with a flying black kitty with protruding green eyes.

“Ah! I finally awaken...!” The little kitten yawned, “Geeze, tell that master he needs to give us play time. Being locked in that box can surely strain my body. I don’t have nine lives for no reason, you know?” Jungkook looked at the cat in confusion, “Uh...” he didn’t know what to exactly think, but before he could voice his concerns the cat looked at him nonchalantly.

“Name’s Plagg. Kwami here that gives powers of destruction and uh, I like cheese. You know? Typical hero stuff.” The cat flew around him in what seems to be skepticism, “Hm... You look pretty decent for a fifteen year old boy. I’ll give you credit. Anyways, wear that black ring and I’ll give you my powers!”

“I-”

“Hey, not trying to rush, but we actually have to deal with some batshit akumas screwing everyone over, so can you speed it up?”

“Wolf! You could at least wait another minute.” Ladybug snapped at her partner. Jungkook quickly pulled out the ring and slid it on his index finger.

“Now what?” Excitement flourished through his veins as his heart grew erratic by the second.

“Now you say my name, “Claws out!” you’ll be the next Kwan Kat.” The cat said. Jungkook glanced at Ladybug and Wolf with their expression reflected his own of eagerness and pride.

This is going to be amazing!

“Plagg, claws out!”

🦊 Jungyeon / Pako 🦊

Okay, so,

Jungyeon was suppose to be babysitting her cousins. Not fighting them. However, some shit happened while they were acting like the little shitheads they were and transformed into bigger shitheads. Of course, it’s terrifying to watch them destroy her house, and then proceed to destroy the outskirts of the city, so it’s pretty bad.

However.

Ladybug, Wolf and that new black cat dude is on the scene beating her cousins assess in ways that’s probably problematic if they weren’t demon creatures. It’s also disappointing that she’s stuck here trying to do something when in fact she’s unable to do anything. And then, she watched her cousins multiply. Two to four, four to eight and eight to sixteen. They’re like cells going through osmosis, they won’t stop! Okay, this is really bad. And it’s her fault! “Oh no... what am I suppose to do now?!” Jungyeon can’t stop panicking. How is she going to explain to her aunt about this situation? She’ll never be trusted again!

“Jungyeon!” Huh? She felt a pair of strong arms scoop underneath her legs and the poor girl found herself screaming on the top of her lungs.

“Shit! Quiet down will you?!” Wait, it’s the Wolf kid! Hop, leap, jump, Jungyeon found herself far away from the city as she saw Ladybug and that black cat. Wolf set her carefully on her feet and plopped a black box in her hand.

“Take it.”

“What the?” She was completely dumbfounded, but it didn’t take a blind man more than three seconds to piece together the information.

“You’re only borrowing it since I sense the necessity of it. After we’re finish you must return it back to us.” Ladybug stated.

“Oh, okay. This is where I become a hero, right?”

“Pretty much.”

Well, if you can’t beat them, join them. With a simple shrug, Jungyeon flipped open the box and watched a red fox appear from it.

“Hi! My name’s Trixx and-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Magical thing that give me powers. No time, gotta kick ass so sorry.”

The little fox folded its arms with a huff, “Well, rude much?” It muttered.

Jungyeon hooked the necklace around her neck, “I need a power up,” She beckoned.

“Ever heard so much of a ‘please’?”

“Please, and thanks.” A large explosion took everyone by surprise.

“Okay, fine. Just call my name and say, “Let’s pounce”-”

“Trixx, let’s pounce!”

🐝 Lisa / Honii Bee 🐝

“Pollen, what do you think of this dress?”

“Hm...” Lisa watched the little bee observe her carefully, “Well, I think some pink would go nicely with it.” the kwami said.

“Very much true. I wear way too much yellow for my own good...” After finding her tiny friend a month ago, things been rather exciting for Lisa to say within the least. And she started loving the color yellow. Yellow outfits, yellow bedsheets, yellow jewelry and she even dyed her hair yellow. Unfortunately, her stylists demanded she changed her hair to red...

The obsession with the color yellow is disturbing everyone around her, but Lisa doesn’t see much of a problem. After all, it only embodies her friendship with the buzzing insect. Of course, she had to keep this friendship a complete secret. Maybe it’s a good thing she accidentally found that hair pin! “Come on Lisa, you don’t want to be late. You have to meet with your managers at the photo session today!” Pollen motioned the girl out the door before zipping into her yellow purse. 

Even when she could fight along side the miraculous team, she preferred going solo. Especially at night where she can be free than any other person...

Hehe.

🌌 Jimin / Feather Juno 🌌

He noticed.

He’s not that stupid.

The frequent absences, the piling excuses, the nervous body language.

If one thing Park Jimin knew it was understanding the minuscule details. Generally speaking, he would’ve confronted Jungkook long time ago, but he decided to wait patiently.

“Jimin-”

“I’m sure it can explain itself better than you can, Jungkook.” Was he pissed? Somewhat, but not quite. However, his patience was thinning and he’s tired of the lies.

“...I’m not suppose to tell anyone.”

“So you don’t trust me, huh?”

“That’s not it-”

“Sure sounds like it!” Okay, he lashed out. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. Jimin watch the maknae cower beneath him as frustration nearly consumed him whole. “Why don’t you trust me? Am I not your friend? Your brother? Or... you don’t want to confide in your friends anymore?” He whispered. He felt hurt.

Jungkook remained tight lipped.

Fine then.

Jimin haven’t spoken to Jungkook since. And it’s only been what? Four days? Until that happened. And by that, Jimin means another akuma attack. It’s been a freaking year and he’s still not used to this. Regardless, Jimin found himself pressed against the fence by this apparent monster with its hot breath smothering his face.

Wow, guess this is how he’s going to die, huh? He haven’t even apologized yet...

A sudden force whipped the monster away and Jimin found himself on the muddy ground, inhaling large amounts of air as his lungs burned. He looked up to find a black cat with solid grey eyes staring at him, “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Y-yeah...- wait, where’s Jungkook? Ah! He’s still in there! I-I have to do something!” Jimin suddenly remembered.

He’s scared.

The young man pushed himself to his feet and tried to run, but the cat clad in black snatched him by the wrist.

“What are you doing? Let me go!:” Jimin practically screamed, and yet the cat shook his head, “Jungkook’s fine.”

“How do you know?! You know nothing of him!”

“Have you considered looking in front of you?”

...

No. That’s... that’s not possible... is it?

“It is, actually.” The cat smirked. And now looking at it, the features and hair, earrings and outfit seems to- “J-Jungkook?” Jimin stuttered.

He’s shocked.

“Yes. I was wondering how long it took you to figure it out.” The cat boy snickered and flicked his belt-like tail in amusement, “Just address me as Kwan Kat, and everything will be okay.”

.

It wasn’t okay.

It took Jimin a complete week to process things. Sure, he speculated many things, but he never concluded his maknae was Kwan Kat. Now it brought fears Jimin never knew existed within himself until now. Nightmares of his Jungkook dying a horrible death, and he wasn’t there to save him. Worse, Kwan Kat sacrificing his life to save him, when he has nothing to contribute to society. He couldn’t bear to face Jungkook, not now, and when he did...

“Hyung, you can’t tell me to give up my alternative lifestyle because it’s unsafe!”

“How can you willing risk your life knowing it could be your last? You have so much to live for!”

“And that’s why I’m living it. To protect everyone around me and-”

“Have you considered the possibility of dying a horrible death? Abandoning your friends and family because you wanted to play hero?”

“You see? This was the reason I couldn’t tell anyone, especially you, Jimin.” The words hurt worse than a knife’s dagger, but Jimin stood his ground.

“Fine, but you gotta bring me along with you.”

“What? No way.”

“I have to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“And what if something happened to you? Then I would’ve failed my job as protector.”

“Then... we can fight together.”

.

“Here.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a miraculous box. I asked Master Fu if I could borrow a miraculous, and it took a lot out of me just to make him budge. You can help on certain occasions just like Jungyeon, but it might not be often.” Jungkook placed the box inside Jimin’s hand, “I picked out a pendant because I felt like it suits you. So, you’re going to help me today. Don’t abuse it.” The maknae warned as the elder opened the box.

“Eep!” Jimin nearly dropped the box the moment light flashed, and out came a...? “Well, aren’t you a handsome young man!” the thing squeaked.

“What are you-”

“Kwami. Mystical god that bestows supernatural abilities. I see Jungkook decided to select me today, wee! It’s been eons since I last seen the world. Okay Jimin, ya ready for playtime?”

“Uh-”

“Alright kiddos, who woken me from my nap?” Plagg maneuvered out of Jungkook’s back pocket with a firm frown, “Kook, you better buy me more cheese today.”

“Ugh, you gotta be kidding me! I don’t have any money right now.” The boy whined in annoyance.

“Your problem, not mines. Oh, sup Dusuu, I didn’t see you there. Strange way to have our reunion.”

“Plagg, it’s great to see you again, brother!”

Okay.

This is... not normal. 

“Come on Jimin, I’ll tell you more about it.” Jungkook finished with a smile.

[naomi-owens]

                                                            WILMINGTON TASK 002 ; QUESTIONNAIRE

ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

The question had been one she was expecting, and one that immediately brought a faint smile to paint over her light pink lips. She was fiercely proud of her childhood; it was something she would never get tired of reminiscing — as her two parents always made sure the Owens’ children were well taken care of, and sculpted into proper human beings. “I am, yes. Born and raised over in Masonboro.” Naomi answered. “We actually have stuck around the same house since my oldest brothers were born. It’s sort of that modern, yet traditional Southern style farmhouse with daphne plants up the walkway and a really, really big backyard with a barbecue on the deck and a fire pit right smack in the middle of the yard. They struck lucky with getting the property for cheap. Fun fact, it was actually built on a apple orchard years and years back…” Naomi trailed off, swiping some loose curls from her eyes before chuckling to herself. “I can’t wait to get back into that house properly. Alex’s place is fancy and nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Taking a moment to inhale a deep breath, lulling over the memory of her childhood home that her parents worked themselves to the bone to spruce up, Naomi sat up a bit straighter in her seat to continue. “I honestly can’t sit here and tell you how nice my childhood was because it was…incredible. It’s going to sound super unrealistic. My parents literally did everything for us and worked off their bare back. I didn’t fight with my siblings more than the usual annoying little sister who just wanted to hang out with her three older brothers. We were middle class, but my Mom and Dad worked so hard we hardly ever were aware if we might have been struggling. I went to school, got amazing grades and made amazing life long friends. My older twin brothers were star soccer players, Dominic was just lost in photography and art, and I went on to join the volleyball team, cheerleading squad, and the high school band league. We had family dinners every Thursday night, my parents made our friends feel like children of their own, we all attended church down in Forest Hills on Sunday…I don’t know, it sounds all too good to be true, but it was literally the perfect childhood. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

“They’re the worst. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to deal with them for as long as I have…” Naomi faked the idea though was shaking her head, unable to take her own joke seriously. She loved her family far too much to ever carry on such a joke — the topic of her parents, her siblings, her aunts and uncles always brought a sudden warmth to her heart. She was cheesy in that sense, as nothing made Naomi more happy than the fact that she could honestly say she was tied with a beautiful, wholesome family with their own little whacky quirks. “Anyway, no, being serious… I’m close with everyone. It’s kind of insane how we managed with how we came to be. Quick history lesson! My Mama was actually born up near Burlington before she moved over to Wilmington in high school. My grandparents, Sofia and Ivan Burgos, were born in Burlington as well. My great grandparents on my grandma’s side, however, originated over in Ukraine before they picked a random place on the map in America, or one that was at least well established, and picked up and moved. They moved to the states when my grandmother was eighteen, and brought my grandfather with them. I actually never got to meet them, but from what I learned from my Ma, I got the sass from my great grandmother, Eva.” Naomi chuckled some more, twisting around the small cross that dangled around her neck once the topic moved to her father. “My Dad had lived here for generations. He’s the more Americanized side of my family, thus where I’ve gotten the true Southern trait, and the Owens last name. My father’s family has lived here since…God, I can’t even count. He used to tell me all these stories of my grandparents and their time in participating in those horse races, even making it to the Kentucky Derby…My Dad ended up losing his parents when he was in his twenties, a few years after my twin brothers were born, and his sister not long after that due to illness and an accident. So really, my Dad was all we ended up having from that side of the family. He did a really good job of keeping the tradition of the Southern Owens name and family alive, even if how our own little family started was a bit unorthodox…”

Naomi then exhaled a deep breath, realizing she had began to ramble a bit more off topic than necessary — but at the end of the day, she rarely got to ramble about her family’s history. It was almost like she was taking advantage of it to reminisce herself. “Anyway, my parents were both born in 1959, and they met when they were freshmen in high school. Fourteen, I believe? They both went to New Hanover. Long story short, they fell in love, got together, and somehow and some way my two oldest twin brothers came before they could even graduate. That was the seventies so… teenage pregnancy was really frowned upon way more than it is now. It just didn’t happen…especially with twins. They basically got the blessing from their parents and got married before my brothers were born, moved into a tiny apartment, and my Dad started working in construction. My Dad ended up dropping out of high school to take care of my Mom and the twins, while my Mom finished high school and got her diploma. She went on to grab a job with the county as a clerk for some politician and got lucky, because that job earned her a retirement and a pretty big chunk of change to put into our savings. It honestly still amazes me how they did it…My grandparents were very little help because of their “traditional” values.” Naomi trailed off once more, dampening her lips with the smile still evident on her features. “So basically, that’s how we came to be. Roger and Joseph were about ten when they moved into the house we have now, then my other brother, Dominic, was born, then five years later I was born.” A deep breath was exhaled from her chest when she finished her long ramble, adjusting her weight within the seat and crossing one long leg over the other. “I honestly think our history is what made us so close. You know? We’ve been through so much, we all worked so hard. We shared a loss of my Dad three years ago, we shared a childhood that was the best one we could be. Even now, when I’m living with my mom in her old age and Dominic is traveling the world, and my other two are nestled up in Forest Hills starting their careers and family, we still manage to make it work. We’re all still in contact. It’s incredible.”

DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“Traditional,” Naomi began to laugh, before she was shaking her head and waving her hands to try to steer back to the point she was making. “And that’s not like…it’s not a bad thing. No. It’s just…you know when you watch a movie and those teenagers are literally living the perfect lives? Perfect life, big group of friends who always hung out on Friday night after a football game? That was it. That was my life, and I honestly loved it. Granted, we added our own twists and spices of our own sort, but that was it. I joined as many teams and clubs as I could to get to know people, because little Naomi Owens was stuck in her brother’s spotlight and legacy he left if she didn’t try to step out of it.” Naomi laughed, poking fun at Dominic’s popularity within her high school…especially with the female population. “I met some of the very best people of my life there, and those who are still the most important to me. I met someone I hated then, then ironically almost went on to marry.” Naomi shrugged at the thought of Tristen, though briefly recalled the time where Tristen and Jaxon spent more and more time together in the shared hallways, which resulted in her next comment. “Met someone who I still cannot stand but manages to make perfect, little babies with Alicia—, I met Amy… I met my best friend. She became my sister. I spent more and more time with people from middle school. We went to cheer camp, cheer competitions, cheered at those football games and partied at the Taylor house where we drank too much bad beer and almost got caught by the cops. We went to prom, and killed it. Had bonfires down at Wrightsville…I got good grades, I think I fell in love... I truly had the time of my life in high school. Sometimes, I honestly wish I could go back.”

WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“Oh God, I got two.” Naomi laughed. “Best Eyes, and uh—, Most Likely to Brighten Up Your Day, which I think both are extremely accurate. I mean,” She then went up to playfully frame her cheeks, like she was showcasing her facial features and her big multi colored hues for the opposing person. “Plus, I’m not one to object that I can make someone’s day brighter. It is my goal, anyway. You don’t get the nickname of ‘Sunshine’ from multiple people for nothing, you know?”

WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“I ended up going to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which is why I’m still so directly involved with their galas and the first responder charity balls. I’m a loud and proud alumni.” Naomi hummed out her answer playfully, ironically sporting the traditional colors of her alma mater, with the Carolina blue laced within her white blouse. “I went back and forth for half of my senior year on where I wanted to go. I knew I wanted to go to college, and I had the best grades I could have so I could basically go anywhere I wanted and have a great chance at getting accepted. I was in love with music, but I was more in love with the idea of spreading the knowledge and the love it could bring rather than constantly performing it, and making money off marketing my talent. So, the decision to get my teaching degree was kind of made up immediately. I loved school and the simple math and English class anyway, so why not?” She then began to laugh, tapping her manicured fingernails down on her knee. She could remember the night she applied for UNC vividly. It was after a long talk with her father on her goals, dreams, and what she wanted to accomplish. It was one of many that she had shared with that man, and one she truly had taken to heart. It resulted in her climbing out of bed to grab her laptop at two in the morning, lighting up her bedroom with the computer screen and spending the next five hours on the application that would grant her an acceptance to one of the better schools in the South…and as close to home as she could possibly get. “College, anyway, was kind of like high school. It was just a whole other ballpark. At the time life was changing, which is to be expected, but I’m not personally a big fan of change.” Athena had been gone to California by then. Rhett was up in New York, making small visits with his then girlfriend. Things had changed, people had changed drastically. She made new friends, and new lifelong friends. “I joined a sorority for a hot minute. It wasn’t my cup of tea, I ended up declining the bid I got from this girl after the week I spent there. The parties were great though.” Naomi laughed some more. “But no, it was nice. It’s where I got to know Tristen really well. I got my own apartment for the first time —, with a roommate of course, got close with Alicia (@aliciapvlmeiro) , then came student teaching, then eventually graduated with my teaching degree.”

WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“There was a few, but none as deep as the next person’s.” It was a little fib that left her mouth before she was releasing a chuckle to follow to mask the mood killer, brushing back a few loose locks of hair from her eyes. “As cliche as it might be, my Dad passing a few years ago definitely shook me up. It changed my entire life. My Dad was practically my best friend and, well, his death was kind of sudden. One day he was a healthy man nearing the end of his fifties and the next we’re getting a call he suffered from a heart attack on the job site that literally killed him.” Naomi paused, forcing herself to suck in a sharp breath in order to actually get through explaining the year that followed. “The months after his final day were…hard. I’ve never seen my Mom so distraught. She was a whole other person. I can’t blame her considering her and my Dad had been in each other’s life’s for nearly half of their own, but still. Seeing your Mom like that…It’s a whole other ballpark, and it was like for at least five months my family shut down on themselves. My brothers used the excuse of their own lives to ignore the fine details that my Mom needed help with. Dominic literally fled the country to “travel” for work and Roger and Joseph…they hid themselves behind their wives for a while. At that point my Mom was hardly taking care of herself; she wasn’t eating properly, she wasn’t taking her own medication, wasn’t attending her doctor’s appointments. Moving back in with my Mom after being on my own wasn’t ideal, and it basically ruined my relationship at the time, but it was kind of a given.” Shrugging her shoulders, Naomi shook them afterwards as if she was shaking of the gloomy cloud that hovered over her whenever she talked about that year. It was hard, and took her quite a while to be able to talk about without suffering from one of her classic panic attacks. “I think it definitely shaped me into being more grateful for the little things, and living in the moment. You don’t realize half of what you have and you take them for granted more often than not.”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

The question sort of snuck up on her, and the hammering in her chest was surely noticeable. It was an easy answer, with plenty of complicated underlying layers. She had been in love twice in her life, and both times had differed tremendously. “I’ve actually been lucky. I’ve been in love twice, and while life kind of screwed me over, it still reiterates the fact that love will forever be something to believe in. When you experience a great love not only once, but twice…you can’t help but imagine what might be in store for you next.” Naomi could still recall the very moment when she was hardly eighteen years old clad in a tiny part of jean shorts, loose blouse and drink in her hand as she danced upon the tailgate with her friends on the beach, including the young boy she had fallen for. She didn’t know it then, how could she? She hardly knew anything she wanted back then, but with the logics laid out in front of her now she knew she was very much in love. She knew so with the way it was so easy to hop down and allow her feet to carry her across the sand to the teenage boy that made her heart flutter, and throat close up to feel like she was suffocating. She knew, and it was the ultimate reason why she ended up granting him the gift of being her first — despite the fact that he never was aware of that little fact, she did date once or twice other than Rhett Sullivan, it still secretly meant something to her. It was a young love that she was sure of back then, then fizzled to the back burner once he made the grand move and time and distance forced the two to become a distant memory that could still be warm to the touch. Tristen came along years later and pulled her from the slumps, and displayed himself as a completely new person from the obnoxious teenager she despised in high school. He was older, mature, dreamy and smart. It was difficult not to fall in love with him after so much time of dating, and day dreaming about a time together when he could slip a ring on her finger and make the transition from their apartment to a house filled with kids one day. Naomi smiled at the memory, allowing herself that brief moment that wasn’t swarmed with bitterness and frustration she felt over the overall ending that came with Tristen, and instead allowed herself to reminisce the good parts in peace. 

“I’ve been in love with two amazing guys, with years between them. The first was a young love, kind of the teenage dream type of thing…We never said it, we didn’t have to. He knew.” Naomi nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear once again. “And then the next grew over time. I hated that guy at first. He was everything I despised in a person for the longest time, and yet years later he matured into someone I grew to love. I swore I was going to marry that guy…” Trailing off, Naomi then shook her head. “He’s gone now. Things didn’t work out, for obvious reasons. I think he’s in Chicago now with a really good job, and even if I’m a little bitter, I hope he’s happy. He deserves it.” Her body shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable within her seat, her lips pressed together once more. “As for the future? Of course. I don’t believe anyone is limited to one or two great loves. If we’re lucky we’ll find that one right off the bat, others have to go through a few to find the one that lasts.” She couldn’t help but let her mind wander off to a taller man in particular, one she found herself kissing only weeks prior. There was an annoying and overwhelming feeling that struck her chest whenever Alex had invaded her mind, or even had been brought up. She wasn’t so sure she could go as far as to smack a label on it and call it love, as that would just be insane. It was new and scary and sort of out of her element, and perhaps that was why she was so quick to run away from it. One thing she couldn’t deny, however? It was something, and plenty had saw through her denial already. Shaking her head free from the thoughts, Naomi twisted back to face forward, licking her lips nervously. “I think it will happen for me, soon enough.”

WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

“January 3rd, 1987. Freshly thirty one, baby.” Naomi joked as she playfully pumped her hands into the air, settling back into her seat before she fell out of it in laughter. “I’m a Capricorn though, and honestly? Not really. I don’t really check in with those horoscope things daily or read up on matchmaking signs and all that. There’s a teacher at my school that’s crazy into the constellations enough for the rest of us.” Naomi laughed some more, the deep laughter rooted from her belly and shaking her shoulders ever so slightly. “It’s totally weird, though. I’m not into it but I can’t deny that when I read something that’s supposed to relate to my sign, it’s accurate. Like…it’s weird, and kind of trippy.”

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“I love summer. I love, love love summer around here. You’ve got all those shops near the ocean or at the Riverwalk opening up for the season, the weather is nice enough that you can withstand the beach for longer than a half hour, and the mood is kind of—, it’s just warm, with this orange and yellow-ey feel that’s hard to beat. Not to mention I get a whopping two and a half months off to myself to do whatever the hell I want.” Naomi grinned as she mulled over her answer. She was always happier when the sun was shining, even if she could appreciate a good rainfall that left a brisk feeling in the air and a clean slate for the ground beneath her. Summer was well on it’s way and well, Naomi was itching for it. “I kind of do a mix of things over the summer since my free time is wide open. For a few extra paychecks I teach a few classes down at the recreation center for the summer, it’s mainly teenagers catching up on credits or adults that want to try something new. It ranges from art classes, pottery classes, creative writing classes and piano lessons. Those only last throughout July and maybe take up two or three hours out of my day, so the rest is kind of bouncing around. I’ll do some shopping, spend some time amour at the lake or the beach. I’m a water baby, so if I’m not doing anything that requires clothes and shoes, I’m in my swimsuit near some body of water either messing around or lounging.” Shaking her head, Naomi then laughed some more. “Considering Alicia and I just bought a place, I actually have an excuse to actually stay the night outside of town instead of spending a pretty penny on a hotel. I’m most excited to spend some time there this summer.”

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“Ten years down the line I’ll be forty one…wow. Let’s not think about that.” Naomi quickly shook her head free of those thoughts with a laugh to follow. “By then my husband and I will be celebrating our anniversary, or maybe even planning our wedding. Who knows? I’ll have two little girls, Charlie and Lana, with a boy on the way. I’ll be moving out of my starter home since the renovations for my new, freshly built house designed by yours truly out near the countryside of Forest Hills will be completed. I’ll be sporting the SUV when dropping my girls off for cheerleading practice. I’ll have accepted a job with the school board as the arts director for the district.” Naomi paused. She honestly thought about the question far too often, and she wondered just who would still be in her life ten years down the line. If the previous decades was telling enough, it was that people came and went even when they were the closest to you. It didn’t matter the timing, it mattered more about the direction their life was taking them in. Naomi brought her larger eyes back toward her lap with a smile stretching across her lips, examining the creamy polish on her short nails before her head was perked back up. “I’ll be happy, and that’s all I could ever want.”

[bridgetbites]

Bridget Bites : Implementing Healthy Eating Habits

Q:

Hi my name is Casey, this might sound odd coming from a guy as I know men and women are different with nutrition but I wanted some tips on healthy eating. And someone who has been on both sides I felt would give the best advice. How did you help train yourself to stick on the healthy eating habits. What did you start out with?

A:

Hi! Whilst everyone’s bodies may require different amounts of macro nutrients, men definitely suffer from their own share of body bullshit. They get fed the masculinity myth – the idea that they have to be strong and silent, macho and dominant, and always top dog. This can have some catastrophic affects, that can be seen throughout society at large.

First off, I would recommend you to define what healthy eating habits are and why you want to stick to them. Are you overweight, and your health is at risk? Do you want to get more out of life and this will happen through being fitter? This is ok. Or do you want to lose weight because you think you should be more ripped, skinnier, or different looking? Do you currently hate yourself for the way you look? This is not ok.

I set about implementing ‘healthy’ eating habits because I had swallowed the lies that I was overweight. I wanted to work with clients who demanded an extreme body shape, so I jumped into a long list of lies to myself. I trained myself to exist on much less nutrition than needed, to cut out entire food groups, and to over exercise. I got so used to these ‘healthy’ eating habits that I forgot what it felt like to be hungry, or to be full. And every week or so these ‘healthy’ eating habits would implode into a day of crazed binging – where I would eat every ‘healthy’ vegan junk food to extreme. In the spirit of full disclosure, I never did purge. There was a deep part of me that really wanted to eat all the food, and I never experienced guilt after a binge episode. There was one deep, stubborn part of me that was determined for me to eat and to get well. So I would eat, LOVE IT, then wake up the next day and resume my minimal nutrition diet.

So that is how I started out. I went so far in one direction that I endangered my health quite intensely. I set into play some serious mental demons that had been lying dormant for quite some time, and demons that I still struggle with daily to put to rest. But acknowledging them is the first step to learning to live with them. And I am so scared of giving them back their control that I am extremely diligent with my control and food choices these days.

Once I made the decision to start eating properly, funnily enough I didn’t go insane with it. I didn’t go on some wild binge. In fact, binges stopped existing in my world because I was no longer fighting my bodies need for real food. Dessert started coming into my life a night or two a week, and while this is still a bit of a mental sticking point, it is slowly getting easier. It tastes so good, that I kind of can’t be bothered with thinking too deeply about it anymore. I think what has really helped me stand on my own two feet with food is how damn good real food tastes. I cannot describe just how awesome the first bite of a mango is after four years abstinence from all fruit. Eating something as simple as avocado sushi, quinoa or a salad WITH salad dressing on it is incredible. Carbohydrates are not the enemy. Don’t even get me started on peanut butter. These are not foods to be avoided, they are good and nourishing for you. And whilst in the beginning it was hard to stop eating them, it never progressed into a full blown binge. Because I gave myself permission to eat them whenever I wanted to.

So I guess my advice as to implementing healthy eating habits would be the following. I go by how the oldest lived people in the world eat. It is mostly plants, grains and beans. They drink a little. They eat a little dessert. And they live forever. This is not by them making a strict decision to be low carb, or paleo, or high fat, or vegan. They just eat food that is grown from the ground, in its most natural state. I am not a fan of meat, and lactose intolerant, so I am plant-based. The rest of the time I eat foods that I recognize and love the taste of. I do not avoid food groups, I just make sure that I am making the best choice for my health with regards to those groups. This means sourdough bread over wonderbread, quinoa or oats over sugar cereal and wild or brown rice over white (but this one I am not as fussed about).

And if I do eat some of the lesser quality foods? Who cares. I enjoy the taste and freedom of not being stuck in an eating rut. I truly do love food and to eat. Sometimes the fries (sweet potato for me) is just what you need. But I do try to avoid eating lower quality foods and sugar every single day. Because it doesn’t leave me feeling energetic and full of life. And it makes my skin break out.

If you make the higher nutritional quality choice more often, you will slowly train your taste buds to want it. I always have the foods I want to eat in the house. I have learned to cook, and love making up my own recipes. Of course the mars bar will always taste better than the lara bar. But I don’t usually feel too good after a candy bar. Lara bars make me feel energetic and happy. And that has guided me into making healthier choices in the moment.

Follow your gut. It will tell you everything you need to know! The concept of intuitive eating always seemed like a pipe dream to me. I destroyed my intuition through years of struggling to hit the unrealistic body expectations placed on me. But our bodies want to find their healthy weight, and all the energy and thriving that comes from this place. It was surprisingly easy once I let go of the control and handed the steering wheel to my intuition to reclaim my health and energy.

Final point – start meditating. It teaches you to look inwards and pay attention to your bodies cues. When we know what we need, it is extremely easy and gratifying to follow and honor it.

I hope this helps you 😀 Allow yourself to guide you.

I Dictate My Road.

 Peace and love,

Bridget

Photograph | Dove Shore

I love receiving your comments! - and if you have any specific questions don’t forget to ‘Ask Me Anything’ via the link here.

THANKS SO MUCH

[mini-bab]

lay me to waste

“Now I gotta add you to my list of people to try and forget about Now I gotta add yours to my list of faces to try and not think about Now I gotta tell 'em I don’t care and hope that nobody might work it out It was obviously an illusion 'cause there’s never been so much I’ve been wrong about And I don’t want to spend all my days thinking of the one I can’t live without So I’m gonna have to add you to my list of people to try and forget about”

- Tame Impala, List of People (To Try and Forget About)

“You’re better off single.” Her friend laughed, Rachel rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink.

“Why, because you’re trying to fuck?” She asked teasingly, a smirk on her lips. “But I’m happy.”

“You’re happy? Who are you fooling? You barely even see your fiance or whatever the fuck he is. Are you even together?” He asked, her sighing. 

“I mean, I’m still wearing my ring. So yes. I’m just trying to be faithful and I’m trying to straighten my shit out. I mean, I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess for years. Literally since freshman year of high school when I was getting baked in someone’s basement.” She laughed, looking down into her drink. “I mean, I’m just... I’m trying to have fun and enjoy myself and he just always makes me feel like shit about it. I know he cares about me but I want to have fun and just... take advantage of the fame while I have it.”

“You’re this famous, you’re not gonna suddenly drop off of the face of the earth. If anything, you’ll just be some lifestyle icon or some shit after a while. Maybe you’ll make your own label or something one day. I don’t know. I think that you need to live your life the way you want to live it. Fuck anyone who is trying to hold you back, you know?” He said, drinking his beer.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I want Finn, but-”

“Is his dick that good?” He laughed.

“I mean, I love the guy. And the sex is good.”

“Well then, fuck. Keep your man, girl. Just don’t get hung up on him. Concentrate on yourself.”

-/-

Rachel knew that her label was ruining everything the second they started controlling half of what she wanted to do. Once she felt like she was losing control of her own self, she knew she had to leave. The second that she was out of the tour and out of the contract, she knew she had to get out. She used whatever out she could just so she could get out of the craziness of everything. It was still weird to be home and done with the tour and to not be home, but she had even told Finn very briefly that she wasn’t finished and she needed more time -- she just needed a chance to get music out there that she produced herself and that showed exactly how she felt about the shitty situation she was in. She hated that she had done all of the shit she did, but she was just trying to get ahead in her career. She didn’t want to completely lose everyone, but she knew it was lonely at the top. She knew that this was what would happen, but she just really wished it didn’t.

Being on her own, she was able to just have her own small concerts at venues and while it was incredibly weird, she felt like she needed to get all of her emotions out. She needed to show her regret and all of her troubles and just get it out there so she wasn’t holding it in anymore. She took a few of her band members and just wrote and didn’t even record -- just set up days for concerts so they still were making money. Just her name alone got her a pretty big chunk of change even if she wasn’t working for a label. Plus, she was still working for tons of brands, and she did still have more than enough income than she knew what to do with. Plus, her band was more than willing to accommodate to whatever style of music she wanted to do or whatever covers, which she was grateful for. 

She missed Taylor and Jeremy and how close they all were, but she also knew that people didn’t stick around forever. She just hoped the one person that would stick around would be Finn. But now that they were on their break, even that seemed unrealistic now. She wanted him more than anything, but she just didn’t want him constantly feeling bad for her.

Tonight, as Rachel sat in a green room at a venue, she brushed through her hair, fixing her makeup slightly in the mirror. Lately, she had gotten into the bad habit of getting high before her performances, and this one was no different. It was just so much easier to get hyped for the concert and she was just able to get her mind off of everything. Rachel held onto the frame of the door as she stumbled slightly out of the green room, her seeing someone from backstage immediately move over to her to start to hook her up with equipment.

“You have a forty minute set. You have the set list set up for you next to the microphone. There’s two water bottles, but if you need more you can let us know by signaling off stage.” The worker said, leading her towards the stage. She was barely listening, but she couldn’t help it. She just felt so out of it in the best way and she loved the feeling. 

(Hi-Lo & Dream - aka the inspo for this entire stage of her fucked up life HAHA)

By the time she was finished with her last song, she barely could remember everything else she had done during the entire concert. When she walked back to the green room, she stopped in her tracks when she saw Ed standing against the wall, looking at her sadly.

“Ed? What are you- fuck. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see your show, I got tickets. But I’m coming to take you to my house.” He said, sighing as she shut the door, taking off her jacket and stumbling slightly to a chair in the room.

“What? I- I have a hotel room in town.”

“When you have an apartment with your fiance?”

“I can’t go home yet.” She said softly, looking into his eyes, hers hazy. Ed sighed before walking over to her. “Come on, you’re coming with me. I’m not letting you go back there.” He said, packing up her things in the room before slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and looking to her. He extended his hand for her, her reaching out tiredly to take it. Ed pulled her into a standing position so he could pull her into his side, her leaning her weight against him for a moment. When they went out the back the way they were directed, people screamed when they saw the two of them together, Rachel keeping herself looking somewhat normal. Once he had her in the car he took, she sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment.

“When did you write that song? The last one?” He asked, starting to drive through the city.

“Last week.” She said, looking miserable.

“Fuck. You may be a musical genius, but you’re a fucking mess, Rachel. You need help.”

“You sound like Finn,” She groaned, squirming in the passenger side. “I just... I wanted to have fun. 

“What have you not done? I feel like you’ve done everything under the sun, Rachel.”

She paused, trying to think. “Not heroin. Josh... he- fuck. He died from that. I’m too scared. I tripped yesterday and I was finally coming down and I needed to just... not feel like shit. And I’ve been getting high before performances. I just-”

“I don’t need your excuses, Rachel. You’re not leaving my house until you’re sober.”

“Ed, I’m gonna be fine. Just let me go to my hotel. I already paid for it.”

He looked over at her for a moment, shaking his head. “No. I’ll go check you out tomorrow from the hotel. Or call them up or something. I’m not letting you leave my place. Rachel, you realize Finn’s probably a fucking mess, right? He’s not stupid, he can probably get any details on you that he wanted.” He sighed, pulling into his community before driving down his street and towards his house. Once he pulled up tot he house and helped her out, they were both silent until they got inside.

“You don’t need to do this,” She said quietly, holding onto his wall slightly. “I can just do this on my own.”

“No, you can’t. And I already know I’m going to hear you crying about Finn tomorrow. Just sleep off whatever you’re on so we can talk normally tomorrow and we’ll get you cleaned up tomorrow and stuff,” He said, guiding her to the guest bedroom that was near his bedroom. He pulled down the blankets and guided her into the bed, her sighing as soon as she hit the sheets. “You feel okay? You’re not gonna throw up in the bed or anything?”

“N-no. I’m okay.” She mumbled, holding onto the pillow. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. I can’t right now. Can you text Finn that I love him?” She said into the pillow, Ed sighing. 

“Yeah, Rachel. Sure. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” He said, pulling the covers over her and looking at her. 

“Mhm.”

When Rachel woke up in the morning and went down the steps, she rubbed her eyes and smiled gently when she saw Ed grabbing cereal and some fruit. 

“Oh, hey. Uh, you sleep okay?” He asked, her nodding.

“Yeah. Thanks. I feel a lot better.” She whispered, moving to sit at his breakfast bar. “Do you have any coffee?”

“Already on it.” Ed reached to hand her a cup, Rachel smiling gently in response. 

“Thanks. So, I guess you want to talk now right?”

“Kind of. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, Rachel, you realize you need to stop, right? You’re a mess. And people can tell. I mean, there was that picture of you and you could tell you were getting high. I mean, I’m all for having fun every once in a while, but you realize you’re killing yourself right?” He rambled, her looking down into her coffee cup.

“I don’t just... ‘have fun,’ Ed. I take everything to the extreme. I can’t handle myself. And I want to be a good wife and shit but I’m afraid I’m just going to be a huge fuck up. And I don’t want to make Finn unhappy.”

Ed shrugged, drinking his coffee. “Well, you’re making him pretty unhappy right now. I mean, when was the last time you even seriously talked to him? Touched him? Seen his actual face? I mean, come on, Rachel. You’re being insane. You just need to figure all your shit out. And I’m all for holding you hostage here until you do, but you need to go back to Finn. I’ll take you there personally. But he’s the only one who knows you better than anyone else and will actually help you more than any of us can.”

Rachel knew he was right. She needed to get her shit together, but she just didn’t know how to start. Obviously, she needed to get clean and she knew she’d be able to -- drugs were never what alcohol was to her, but she just had been so dependent on both this entire tour. 

“I can’t go right now. I need a few more days. To just... not touch anything . To go to him and make sure that I’m really actually sober. I just need a little bit.” She said softly, running her finger along her coffee cup.

“That’s fine. I’ll drop you off. I just need to make sure you figure this out. I know you guys need each other. You guys are just... so stupid sometimes. Everyone can see you guys are being stupid except for the two of you.”

“That’s how it usually works, isn’t it?” She asked, smiling sadly.

“Yeah. But we’re gonna figure it out. Alright?”

“Okay.”

[haphazardlyparked]

first impressions (monopoly)

so in response to cat’s casual prompt about how Monopoly got Monopoly as an alias, i wrote about 1000 words of a back story that i really don’t like. so have some Quickdraw/Kalna and Monopoly talking about Rex’s backstory instead. :D 

So my first real-life meeting with Quickdraw had gone something like this:

Crown sidled up to my desk one afternoon, aiming for casual and failing miserably. "Monopoly," he said, arms hanging straight like a pin by his side like this was normal, "Can I talk to you about something important?"

"Spit it out, Crown," I advised, because the look on Crown's face veered on the wrong side of constipated. "It'll be for the best."

Crown didn't even take the opportunity to crack a that's what she said joke. "Look, I know you said you didn't like him, but the part-time cover job you took last week, with Isaac Wells--"

"--yeah?"

"Quickdraw needs to talk to you about it," Crown finished in a rush.

"That's all?"

"Uh... yeah," Crown admitted, looking sheepish all of the sudden. "You're the third person I've talked to him about today. Seabird got very loud." Crown leaned against my desk, glancing around and then ducking his head down to whisper, "And I swear to god Gazelle was going to shove one of her stilettos through my eye."

"Ah, to be the bearer of bad news," I said with false sympathy.

"About that," replied Crown, before he shoved a folded up piece of paper at me.

I opened the paper. It was a note arranging a rendezvous at a movie theater, even going so far as to include a time for the latest summer action flick. I arched a brow. "So dramatic."

Crown shrugged in the manner of a man who had long since given up. "It is Quickdraw. Do you need a ride to the theatre?"

"No thanks, Dad," I rolled my eyes at Crown. "I'll bike."

By the time I got to the theatre, navigated its dimly lit halls, and found theatre 7, the lights had already been lowered for the previews. Who the hell decides to meet in a movie theatre? I wondered grumpily. I was a little sweaty from the ride over, and mildly regretted spurning Crown's offer of a ride.

Monopoly, said the asshole who decided to meet in a movie theatre. Back, left.

The voice was projected a touch too loudly for comfort, but Quickdraw was obviously psychically trained. I looked up to the back left seats; even in the lowered lights, I recognized the silhouette of the man's ridiculous shoulder-length curls. He looked much the same as he had from the conference call in prison months ago, except that I assumed he was wearing his own clothes now.

I poked experimentally at his mind as I made my way up to the seats; static mental shields went effectively hazy at my touch. Huh.

You're different from what I expected, Quickdraw commented when I slouched into the seat next to him. He was projecting his thoughts past his shields; I upped my mental estimation of his training.

Different how? I asked. On screen before us, a preview for yet another action-adventure thing I didn't want to see began playing.

The way Crown described you, Quickdraw said, his sending laced with sharp amusement, I was expecting some some wan, limping mouse, or some shit.

Wow, thanks. I made my reply dry. The way Gazelle talked about you, I thought you’d be Satan incarnate.

So we’re both disappointments. Though I think I got the short end of the stick. Quickdraw laid a hand over his heart in the epitome of melodrama. Why, I think you nearly triggered a PTSD flashback from prison, you know?

Korea’s foreigner detention center is literally the nicest in the world, don’t even start with me, Quickdraw, I scowled.

Quickdraw laughed quietly. You got me there, Mouse, he conceded.

I frowned. Is there a reason why I’m here? 

Shifting beside me, Quickdraw fished a phone out of his back pocket and turned it on. The screen glowed brightly in the dark of the theatre — relax, nobody gives a shit what happens in the back row, Quickdraw snorted when I sent him my disapproval. He did dim the screen before flicking through his photos, though, and when he found the one he wanted, he passed it to me.  

It was a photo of me, Allison, Rex and Wells at the entrance of Virtual Wells, Wells’s not-so-creatively named firm. We all had coffees Rex had bought from the cafe I liked by my apartment. Wells, in a sharp grey suit, was his usual odd mix of congenial and aloof, and Rex was unprofessional in jeans. Allison was smiling with her coffee hiding half her face, while I had this suspicious look (which was probably because I was sure Rex had picked up the coffee while following me to work that morning.)

How long have you known Rex? Quickdraw asked.

I narrowed my eyes. You’re not interested in Rex.

Quickdraw huffed. So you are a psychic after all. When I didn’t reply, staring instead at the opening fight scene on screen like I was interested in it, Quickdraw went on. Or maybe just uninformed? Did you know Rex and I were partners?

That got my attention. I locked the phone and shoved it back at Quickdraw. Partners?

Yup, Quickdraw said, sly now that he knew he had information I wanted. Rex used to work with the team. Before he went dark side, and shit.  

I abandoned all attempts to appear casually disinterested. Why did he leave?

For all of Quickdraw’s many flaws, he didn’t drag it out. Got real fucked up when we were hunting Sikes. I’d heard of Sikes; she had been a real piece of work with a fondness for ruining children's lives. Most recently, I had trawled through the team’s old files. "Sylvia Ikeson" was catatonic in a nursing home while her divorced parents argued about pulling the plug on her through their lawyers; apparently, neither of them had been aware that their daughter had been a complete psychopath for most of her conscious life.

I tentatively pushed some of that info at Quickdraw.

Yeah man, he agreed. It was pretty grim shit. She was strong. Not stronger than Rex, but with like, a fuckton of practice, and also she was huge bitch. Walking fucking disaster.  

What happened?

They went head to head. She lost. Mind cracked. He lost a bit too -- couldn't find himself after, or whatever the fuck happens to you psychics when your minds go on tetherless walkabouts.

I frowned. Rex was probably the strongest psychic I’d ever met, and he’d never give me the impression that his grip on himself was loose.

Anyway, when the stupid shit wandered back he latched onto my mind. He shouldn’t have been able to, which is the understatement of the fucking century by the way, don’t even fucking bother asking how that happened, but... Quickdraw trailed off. Drove him a bit crazy.

Quickdraw fell silent after that, but I knew he wasn’t actually watching the movie. I was suddenly more curious about his well-developed shields and what lurked in his mind that could drive someone -- that could have driven Rex -- a little insane.

And? I finally prompted.

He wasn’t Rex, for a while. Quickdraw’s reply was slow and evasive and clearly hiding something. I didn’t ask. Anyway, I heard he ‘found himself’ a few years later. Now, if you’ve had your curiosity about your monumental crush satisfied, can we get down to actual fucking business?

Crush? I sputtered, denial lining every inch of the thought. You—

—I, Quickdraw interrupted, which was again impressive for someone who wasn’t psychic himself, do not give even the slightest shit whether or not you have the hots for a supervillain. Though I’ll compliment your taste. Now. Tell me about Isaac Wells.

Caught off-guard by the sudden change of topic, I frowned at Quickdraw. Something was nagging at me -- why did Quickdraw care so much about Isaac Wells? Rex had said Wells was also the supervillain Darkwell, but what did Quickdraw have to do with Darkwell?  

I hid my confusion by teasing, Why, Quickdraw? Do you have your own supervillain crush?

Quickdraw didn't miss a beat. Yes. Iska and I have a deep and abiding connection. You wouldn't understand, he replied with arch arrogance. 

You've even got a cute nickname for him. I couldn't stop myself.

I have a cute nickname for everyone, Mouse. It's one of my charms.

Oh, fuck you, I said, but then I settled down to business. 

Telling Quickdraw everything I knew about Isaac Wells and his virtual reality goals didn't take long. When I finished, Quickdraw pressed back into his seat and braced his elbow on the armrests as if he were thinking hard. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize he was actually watching the movie.

Squinting at my watch in the dark, I saw that we had hit the hour mark (which was only halfway, what the fuck was wrong with movies these days?), and I gave up. I got to my feet. Quickdraw made sharp, impatient gesture and I was suddenly tugged back down into my seat. 

I sighed noisily. Three minutes later, in a lull where the main character was sweet-talking his leading lady, Quickdraw asked, When is Is--Wells in the office?

Most days, I think. I see him only when he comes to psych division.

Which days are those?

The days Rex is there.  

Not long after that, in another lull, he asked after Rex's schedule; then, during the whole climactic finish of good guy saving his lady but shockingly losing to the bad guy, he grilled me on my schedule, Allison's schedule, and Leo's.

"What was the point of watching the movie?" I asked aloud when the lights went up.

Quickdraw slung a casual arm around my shoulder as we left the theatre together. "I thought I was gonna miss that one while I was in Korea," he grinned, tightening his hold when I scowled and tried to worm away from him. "But it was a pretty fucking terrible movie."

I elbowed Quickdraw in the ribs. "How would you know? You ignored the whole twist ending. The villain won."

"I know. Absolute bullshit, that. Unrealistic."

"What, you don't think the antagonist can ever get a leg up?"

Quickdraw snorted. "No," he said, strangely serious now as we emerged from the theater and into the light of day. It was late afternoon, but still bright out. "The heroes always win, Mouse. Trust me. They always fucking win, somehow."

"We always win,” I corrected. “You should be more pleased about that." 

"Oh, Mouse, I am fucking thrilled about it, don't you worry." Back to his ever-mocking self, Quickdraw began heading off to the parking lot. He paused only to suggest, "We should do this again."

"What, see a movie?"

I was really starting to hate Quickdraw's sleazy grin. "No -- go on a date."

"That wasn't a date," I fired back. "You made me pay for my own ticket. Nine wasted dollars, you dick. And that was the matinee price."

"So I'd be a shit boyfriend," Quickdraw agreed cheerfully. "But it's not like you can't afford it, eh, Min Huang Su?"

[makelovetoyourpoison-blog]

Guidelines to heal

I want to start this next entry by giving some guidelines to anyone who may be in the beginning stages of realizing they are physically suffering and losing their mind. YOU ARE NOT CRAZY. One more time to let it really seep in YOU ARE NOT CRAZY. 1. Validate your emotions. This here is so important. If you don’t acknowledge your symptoms, what you’re physically, mentally, emotionally, or even spiritually experiencing no one else will. You are not insane and you are not alone. Everything you think, everything you feel and everything that’s going on in your body is absolutely valid. Write down your symptoms. You can get specific with times of the day you experience certain things, what triggers physical symptoms. Record what you eat. When you eat. Things that you notice effect your mood or certain aspects of your mind and body. Record how you spend your day, what activities you do, and what restrictions you have. What time you go to bed. What time do you wake up? Get to know yourself. Observe everything. You can journal this. You can talk to yourself or others out loud about this. You can make bullet points in your phone. It doesn’t matter what technique you use as long as you pay attention. 2. Commit to healing. Commit to bettering yourself. This one for me came out of a place of complete desperation. This here is a big one. Just as you would commit to any friendship or romantic relationship - no matter where the relationship with yourself goes you have to be on board. You have to be willing to love yourself no matter what. You can’t give up when things get difficult because things will get difficult. Rest when you need to rest, don’t over push. Life will be tough at times. Be your own best friend. Fill yourself. Recharge yourself. You must mirror the behavior to yourself that you would like to receive from others. You have to be on your own side always. A partner to yourself. A teammate. 3. You have to do the work. This in my opinion is the most difficult, however the most rewarding. You cannot just give the words of ill do whatever it takes to get better. You must supply the action. You have to take ownership of your life. Take control of your mind, your body, your soul. Make the efforts to work as a team. Listen to your body and supply the necessary action to heal .4. Accept help .This one seems to be a struggle for most people but it’s extremely crucial to the healing process. There has to be some give of releasing control in order to find others that can help you heal. Whether this is a therapist, doctors, support groups, friends, family and/or significant others. Don’t dismiss the love. Let it envelope you. You need it. Now you may ask how do you do that? Eleven simple guidelines. 1. Positive affirmations - put out into the world what you want to receive. The universe is on your side. I will give an example of this. Mantras I repeat every morning are “ I have already conquered my struggles ” , “ I have the doctors I need in order to heal because they provide me with the necessary solutions ” , “ I am peace ” , “ I am love ”, “ I am light ” ,“ I am free ” . To me these are important ones to sit with every morning and every night. However it is different for everyone and you can play around with words and find whatever is right for you. 2. DO THE RESEARCH!! Invest in yourself. This piece is most significant. The foundation you’re working to build with yourself crumbles without this step. You must find out what is in the products you currently use. Most processed foods, most shampoos, conditioners, make up, hair products have toxic chemicals. Be willing to make the sacrifice of getting rid of those current comforts and replacing them with less harmful products. Change your diet and only drink filtered water. I could write pages upon pages about the harms of plastic bottles and tap water but that would take up way too much time and space for this entry. If you need help with this I would be more than happy to help. A lot of this is listening to your body. There is no one universal diet or product that works for everyone. Everything in the healing process is individualized. If you have autoimmune or infectious disease issues my recommendation is looking into autoimmune protocol and paleo diets. The autoimmune protocol saved my gut. I make my own toothpaste and deodorant, I use essential oils as perfumes and I found a company that makes harmless shampoo, conditioner and body wash that smells good. There are solutions for everything. If you’ve made it this far your body wants and needs your help. Supply the help. 3. Find the supplements, herbs and foods that work for you. Whether it’s getting testing done to see what you’re lacking or just assessing yourself from research. Your body needs help when it’s struggling. We could all use a good probiotic, more leafy greens in our diets and if you need to detox look in less harmful ways like milk thistle, chlorophyll , NAC, oil pulling (pulling coconut oil back and forth between your teeth for twenty minutes until it gets foamy then spitting it out), thanks to a kind stranger who sent me a care package after my hospital stay I learned about thieves oil that you rub on the bottom of your feet then cover them with socks for detox and also takesumi supreme . Beware of adaptogenic herbs such as ashwaganda, schisandra, and rhodiola because although they are meant to balance your hormones they can provoke extreme inflammation if you have inflammatory issues. Also be careful with chorella and spirulina because some people have adverse reactions to it including myself. If you have digestive issues - digestive enzymes and Lglutamine are important. Also if you’re on medication currently for your illness such as Xanax or propananol like myself they drain your body of certain necessities such as coq10 and melatonin. It’s important to be mindful of what’s depleting you and how to replenish. If you need immediate help relaxing look into magnesium oil or powder ( I use the brand “ calm”) , ltheanine , inositol, Marshmallow root , slippery elm bark, licorice root, chamomile, peppermint, ginger and lemon balm . There are many options which I hope to go over in future entries in great detail, I just wanted to give a brief overview for urgency. 4. Acknowledge your everyday accomplishments and allow yourself to be proud of yourself. I don’t mean accomplishments in the sense that were taught - in a way that only the major milestones have value. Everything you do has value if you allow it to. I mean, accomplishments that are seen as nothing, but are major milestones for all people. Life is not easy and life is not fair. Pay attention to the seemingly small things that accumulate - such as getting out of bed in the morning, brushing your teeth and / or showering. Sometimes being productive is just sitting with yourself , just laying with your pain and doing absolutely nothing , rubbing your arm or stomach , reminding yourself that you’re okay and that things will get better, remind yourself you’re not alone . Make love to your poison. Even if you don’t believe it initially feed yourself the love, it helps. If you just watch television all day and relax I am proud of you. Do what feels right. Accomplish priorities if necessary but don’t force yourself to do excess things where you set yourself up for failure. Be honest with yourself about your capabilities and allow them to be what they are. I however do not watch TV because I personally feel like it slows me down. I notice if I push myself to be in my own silence and find activities from there I am more productive in my day. 5. Remain compassionate. This ties in well with the last step but it needs to be reiterated. Whether you take steps backwards or forwards be gentle. We all have a tendency of being hard on ourselves, putting unnecessary and unrealistic pressure on ourselves, we also get angry with ourselves for being the way we are, for having certain restrictions. There is nothing wrong with you, you are not broken for suffering. We all suffer in our own way. An example of that is getting angry with yourself for being sick instead of trying to find a solution. There are endless solutions to a large majority of illnesses it’s all about what we choose to see. 6. Meditate. I would say pray and meditate but I don’t want to force beliefs on anyone. For me prayer has been extremely helpful in not feeling alone. As I touched on in my first entry I believed in god prior to my illness, during my extreme suffering where I saw no light I was angry at god and lost faith entirely. I can speak on my own experiences that I know for a fact my lack of faith hurt me more than anything. I don’t think god is one being in the sky. God can be very different definitions for different people. God can be gods and goddesses, Buddha, Gandhi, Jesus, angels, spirit guides, arch angels, saints etc. Praying is an individualized experience for all and for me I feel like it��s something that continuously uplifts me. There’s a quote that I love that says “prayer is when you talk to god, meditation is when god talks to you.” Which leads me to how important meditation is. Every single time I push myself to meditate I automatically feel better, my physical symptoms are calmed and I feel like I have more answers to emotional stressors. Another quote I love is “the thing about meditation is: you become more and more you”. It’s always hard for me to get into the mindset of setting time aside to meditate but it’s so necessary for healing. I would recommend making it a part of your everyday routine either in the morning or at night for as long as you feel comfortable with , whether it’s with friends, guided meditations, silent meditations, mindful meditations etc. whatever method works for you. 7. Visualize your goals and dreams. This is probably my favorite thing to do. It’s a large reason I was able to keep my sanity in the hospital. I close my eyes sometimes to high vibrational music, sometimes in silence and I envision myself running, doing cartwheels, handstands, having physical strength, stamina, feeling light and free. Living in a warm climate, having my own nonprofit to heal people of physical ailments, having my own healthy food business. 8. Connect with Nature. There are so many benefits to connecting with nature. There’s techniques called grounding and earthing where you just put your bare feet in the earth and connect receiving all the earth can offer, there’s hugging trees, there is actually communicating with the elements earth, air , water and fire, honoring the earth and asking for it to protect you, heal you and cleanse you of toxins, being in touch with therapeutic landscapes, having a safe place to go to in order to experience natures beauty whether it’s a beach, a park, your grandmas backyard, the mountains, a forest its different for everyone. There are natural chemicals secreted from trees that are linked to healthy immune functioning, a natural antioxidant, a natural stress reliever, there are tons of articles linking reducing stress, enhancing cognitive function, healing PTSD, depression etc. This is definitely a topic to research 9. Surround yourself with people, places, and things that make you happy. An example of things that make me happy that are in my realm of capabilities are mindful meditations -sitting in my own silence with a focus at hand that I can cater all of my attention too. Whether that’s cooking, reading or writing, Coloring and painting. It’s okay to go back to what made you happy as a kid. The activities that take you back to a simpler time in life. There’s a lot of freedom in connecting to that. Guided meditations, deep breathing, visualizing what I want for my future, and researching make me extremely happy. Walks by the beach and connecting to nature. This is a big one for me because I truly believe the earth has amazing healing powers and for a whole summer I took my walks every day and laid by the beach and I would leave feeling recharged even when my skin was silver from the metals taking over my body . Talking to friends, be there for friends and just listening, comforting and supporting them when they need me , volunteering was always one of my favorite activities before I got sick. Healing others heals you. Now if you’re in a place in your life where you want to be selfish with your time and energy and only cater to your wants and needs that it completely okay and sometimes extremely necessary. You need to fill yourself first. I also enjoy listening to high vibrational music, aromatherapy, sound healing, learning another language (this came for me with time) and I still struggle but I push, eating, masturbation etc. This list is endless and it’s all about you and connecting with yourself. Figuring out what fulfills you. 10. Acknowledge how your illness could be effecting those around you. Take ownership and validate their emotions. For such a long time I refused to acknowledge that my illness was deeply effecting my family, in my eyes no one was allowed to complain because I was the one suffering. When you suffer those around you are hurting too. Maybe they don’t feel as entitled to hurt because they’re not the ones in physical pain but they’re witnessing it which can be just as painful and traumatic. I can space out sometimes in conversations and repeat myself not remembering that I already discussed a topic. I can go completely monotone and numb to everyday conversations when I am in so much pain I feel like I’m on the brink of exploding. I can be stubborn and overprotective of myself and reject new perspectives. My dad could just be trying to cheer me up with a joke but I’m not even there because I’m so involved in my physical symptoms which makes him feel bad . My parents have made major milestones since my health spiraled out of control and I notice if there’s an altercation it’s the both of us, not just them .Be honest with yourself that when you don’t feel well you’re not always happy, nice , and present in a way you possibly could be otherwise. Sometimes we struggle so much within that we can’t fully comprehend our effect or see another person’s perspective. Everyone’s feelings matter. 11. Let it out and stay positive. When you are physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually struggling poison doesn’t only accumulate in your body it can accumulate in your mind, your thoughts and your beliefs. If we all could comprehend the power of our thoughts and beliefs we would never speak a negative word again. How you think and what you believe dictates how you feel. The pain needs to come out. Let it out. Sit with it. Then let it go. If it stays inside you cannot heal. You don’t necessarily have to talk it out with anyone if that’s not your comfort zone but writing, talking out loud to yourself, praying, singing to music you can relate to, any sort of exercise or movement, walking if it doesn’t provoke too much, stretching, go for a drive and scream, rip up a magazine, punch a pillow. Let out the pain in any way you feel comfortable with. You need the release. For anyone struggling I want you to know you’re going to get past this. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Somehow, somewhere, some way you have already conquered this. Just as I’ve experienced a multitude of negative emotions I’ve experienced peace, fulfillment, freedom, euphoria, love and happiness. Trust in the process. Trust in your path. Trust in the universe. It does get better. There is a bigger picture to your life. This is just a fork in the road but now it’s about connecting with the right solutions. Your illness doesn’t define who you are and what you’re capable of. Sometimes you need to go through hell to experience heaven. You need to know the depths and the limits of each to find balance. Don’t give up. The world needs more people like you. You are important. You are capable. You are loved. You are deserving of peace and fulfillment. If there is one message I hope to get across throughout this blog serious is YOU HAVE THE POWER TO HEAL YOURSELF. Doctors are important, friends, family. And therapists are important but you are the most important part of your own healing journey. The most important element in the story of your own life. You have the ability to navigate where your life goes and how your healing progresses. Healing is a process not a destination. In tomorrow’s entry I’m going to tackle a few personal struggles and a story I’ve journaled.

[onestowatch]

renforshort Paints a Picture of Her World on ‘off saint dominique’ [Q&A]

Photo: Steph Verschuren

“Ugh I’m, like, literally in my pajamas, I have just had a morning.” renforshort pops up on Zoom, sporting bright pink bangs and a casual coolness that belies the insane energy of the music she’s been making over the last year.

renforshort’s rise has been nothing short of meteoritic, capturing a global audience amidst a worldwide pandemic. Unfiltered, brash, and honest, the Canadian singer-songwriter was met with widespread praise for her breakout singles “i drive me mad” and “fuck, i luv my friends” ahead of the release of her debut EP, teenage angst in early 2020.

Now, with the release of her sophomore EP, off saint dominique, renforshort steps back into her story with a confidence and self-reflectiveness that had just begun to emerge on her earlier songs. While her pace hasn’t slowed, the complexities of topics she navigates push her to consider her words carefully, balancing a raw vulnerability with blunt realism in her lyrics. 

The depth and versatility she weaves throughout the six tracks showcase the growth she’s experienced in the past year. “There's so many different sounds and so many different genres. I feel like across the whole EP, especially lyrically, it’s supposed to kind of just represent this year of my life.”

The catalyst of the project started with the first time she moved out of her parents’ place. “The apartment that I stayed in, I lived alone, which was a pretty big thing. And the apartment I stayed in was on a street off Saint Dominque. So [when I was writing this EP] I was like, ‘Where was this whole adventure? Where did it all begin? And that is where it began.’”

off saint dominique captures the life of a teenage girl in a modern world, faced with societal pressure to adhere to standards and expectations while discerning how to forge your own path. At the helm of a movement of young women solidifying their footing in a notoriously cutthroat industry, she, like many of her peers, has found ways to speak out about the roles she refuses to play and establish her own lane on her own terms.

On the opening track, aptly titled ��wannabe,” renforshort points a finger at the facades so many of us, herself included, tend to hide behind. There’s a little snark in her voice when she describes the self-criticism in the song. “There have been points in my life where I’m like, ‘who the fuck are you? like, who are you? what are you doing?’” From a different perspective, however, there’s a genuine concern about the lack of authenticity that can float in her circles. “I’m like, ‘I’m calling bullshit.’ Like, that's not you. It’s just not you. And it's the most painful thing in the world to see someone just be a completely different person around other people, or just start changing over time to fit this mold, you know what I mean?”

She, on the other hand, refuses to be boxed in anymore. “I don't have trouble at all posting some shit of me looking wack, wearing something wack. I just don't care because I can’t—” she pauses to roll her eyes, “I just don't have the energy to like, please everyone.” When asked if the past year of almost everything going online has compounded this, she’s quick to agree. “Oh my god 100%. Five THOUSAND percent. The world is fucked, so, fuck it. That is the mentality, just live.”

While her boldness seems flippant at first, her distaste for false pretense comes from a place of compassion towards her own struggles with people pleasing and unrealistic expectations. As she reflects on one of the earliest songs she wrote to combat teenage angst, renforshort shifts into a softer tone. “The first line of ‘bummer’ goes ‘looking in the mirror/my reflection got me triggered.” At the time, she confesses, an eating disorder quietly plagued her. “I never talked about with anyone because to me, it didn't exist. It was just how I lived and how…” she winces a bit. “How I would be a, you know, a hot girl.” She shrugs at the absurd normalcy with which she’d handed it. “I was like, ‘There's nothing weird about that. This is how you be a hot girl!’” Now, she rolls her eyes at that idea. “That’s just not true. Like, I was not happy. And I didn't look good.”

It was through that song her world cracked open a little more. “I wrote about that because I was in a session with this writer DCF and producer, Jeff [Hazin]. He was like, what's going on? You know, the classic ‘what's going on in your life?’ And I was like, nothing, nothing. I'm 16, I'm in high school, shit’s not happening.” Undeterred, they nudged her to dig a little deeper, encouraging her to go beyond just writing about relationships. “That was the first time I like, opened up to anyone about it.”

Her vulnerability has a certain conviction about it; renforshort has no need for pity. Instead, she embodies a desire to paint a multi-faceted reality that doesn’t glamorize hiding pain underneath the surface. Putting her most complicated thoughts into song forges a unique path for her to get the weight off her chest, and losing the fear that gripped her previously means no more holding back.

“People just got more open about eating disorders, society’s standards, or what women should be and what women should look like, and what they should weigh and what they like, stupid shit. It became more like, you know, mainstream to bash that. So, I think that over time, everything becomes more normal to talk about. So why not just talk about it?”

The synergy she’s created in the studio has opened up worlds for her to dive into and explore. While teenage angst had a cohesive punky edge, off saint dominique takes the foot off the gas long enough to observe her surroundings and take in where her music has opened new creative doors. Having a writing team around her that resonates with her emotionality helps too. “[DCF] is like a twenty-seven-year-old man. But he like, is a fourteen-year-old girl, if that makes sense. He pulls up to the studio in a Camp Rock backpack and he can get into my head so well.”

As her maturity and breadth of experiences increase, renforshort pulls more nuance out with each line she pens. “lust into love” is about the first crush she ever had on a girl. “I was like, this is so weird, because I don’t know how these roles work. Because normally, a guy will like, you know,” she closes her eyes and takes a dramatic breath in, “take you and sweep you off your feet, blah blah blah,” she exhales dramatically. Here, she reverses the roles, wanting to be the one to sweep the other person off her feet.

“It feels more assertive than what I normally write, because even in my real life, I’ll be like, no you do it first, and I’m just gonna live with my feelings inside my body forever, making me feel like shit, because I'm never going to go through with anything.” Something about the veneration she holds for the muse of this song, someone she describes as “so elegant,” however, overwhelms her reservations. “It feels like a very… observant song. Like I'm observing your beauty and your character. And that's what it's about. It feels like a soft kind of love song, but it is very forward.” I comment on the muted, insistent piano of the post-chorus, how it describes that feeling perfectly. “Exactly. You feel it in your heart. You’re like, WOAH. I feel in love right now.”

Her knack for eliciting very specific emotions in her writing clearly resonates with her fans too. “I’ve had some really funny things said about my music. Like ‘I feel like I'm a girl in high school’ or ‘you make me hate a boy that I never knew,’ shit like that. Even [347Aidan] said to me ‘I feel like I'm in like an in ‘80s zombie movie and I'm in high school and I’m like running away from—“ she stops herself. “I forgot what he said exactly but it was so spot on and out of the blue. But it all falls into that..[here she scrunched her nose and puts on a bratty voice] “I’m a teenager and I’m mad!”

The high octane energy of her earlier work has subsided a bit. While not all her songs are heavy emotional hitters, they resonate just as much with her. renforshort’s sensitivity to emotional reactions allows her to tease out the feelings hard to fit into normal conversation. “When I'm gonna write like, a song song, I’m like, ‘what is going to help someone? What do I wish I heard?’ And that's a kind of how to write songs. And like, ‘what has not been talked about? Enough? That I need?’”

The closing track on off saint dominique, “this is just a story,” narrates a stream of consciousness rambling of the all the things that’ve happened to her lately. “It feels like a conclusion. Like when you write an essay, and it's like, “in conclusion…” this is that conclusion. It doesn't really matter if the song is catchy or not. It's not my favorite song on the project. But lyrically, it is. It has to be there, just for like…” she pauses, “the art part of it.”

While the writing process has exposed and broadened the places she’d been hesitant to explore before, renforshort has started to come into her own. Conquering her fears and receiving the coveted response that her own wrestling through difficulty has helped another fuels her more than any fear could constrain her.

“As an artist, at least for me, I could put anything in a song. And I feel like I've done that with this project. Like, I've gotten so personal on this project, because I’m just not scared of it anymore.”

off saint dominique is available everywhere you can stream it.