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madsworld15 · 8 months ago

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Part 3 of Asexual Rep AU (QAF)

I have decided to upload another part because it's been written so, you are welcome @maryp50 and @winderlylandchime HEHE

Justin worked the rest of his shift with an energy he’d been lacking before. Normalcy had been restored, and Brian was once again that bitchy business queen in his mind. His one moment of kindness and concern had been overshadowed by his arrogance. It was the way things should be.

That night after work, Justin went to Woody’s for a couple of drinks where he ran into Emmett and Ted. The duo quickly welcomed him to join them as they scouted the room for potential partners for the evening. Around 2 am, they all packed it in and went home alone. However, Justin was sure Emmett was going to end up calling that cute Southern man he’d been flirting with for most of the night.

Justin walked the four blocks to his and Daphne’s place, his thoughts a million miles away. Once he arrived at their apartment and let himself in, he immediately went to bed. Daphne was a pre-med student, so she had early classes almost every single day. He knew they would chat in the morning over their cups of coffee and last-minute study sessions.

Sure enough, the next morning, Daphne woke him up half an hour early with a hot cup of coffee and the look of a best friend who wanted to talk.

“Mmm.” Justin took a sip from the proffered mug and smiled, “Thanks.”

“I feel like we keep missing each other. I haven’t seen you in days.” Daphne gave Justin her signature ‘you’re toast’ look.

“Between work and school, I barely have any time to myself.” Justin shrugged and leaned his back against his headboard. “Let alone time for freedom and fun.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me about a fun night at a gay club a few weeks ago.” Daphne crawled up the bed to position herself side-by-side with Justin.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you the whole story.” Justin sighed and closed his eyes. This would be the first time he would be talking about the incident out loud.

“Oh?” Daphne sounded nonchalant and unconcerned, but Justin knew better. She was itching to know more.

“Emmett invited me to join him and Ted at this gay club Babylon after I got off work that Thursday night. So, having nothing better to do, I joined him.” Justin put his coffee mug down on the bedside dresser.

“Oh my god! How was it? I have always wanted to go to a gay club!” Daphne perked up, her excitement barely contained.

“You are a freak, you know that?” Justin laughed at his best friend before he continued. “Anyway, I enjoyed some time on the dance floor until this guy made a move to undo my pants. Without asking me.”

“Please tell me you punched him!” Daphne looked horrified at what could potentially happen to him.

“No, but Brian showed up and possessively pushed those guys away,” Justin responded. “And then he kept dancing with me until I wanted to go home. It was weird, like he wanted something from me but didn’t ask.”

“Brian. The Brian. The older guy who comes into the diner and constantly treats you like crap? That guy?” Daphne knew all about Brian because of how often Justin complained about him. But she didn’t know that Brian always gave Justin more of a tip than was necessary.

“Yep!”

“And?” Daphne turned to face him with an expectant look, but Justin didn’t have anything else to give her.

“And nothing. It’s been almost two weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to me about it. And before yesterday, our interactions at the diner and the few occasions I’ve seen him at Woody’s have all been the same. But, then yesterday, I was working the late shift, and his whole friend group came in, and instead of being rude and snarky to me, Brian was kind. Unnaturally kind, like invasion of the body snatchers.” Justin sat up completely and crossed his legs.

“He likes you!” Daphne squealed and put her hands on each of Justin’s biceps. She shook him excitedly as her grin grew more and more.

“What?! No! The guy is a conceited asshole.” Justin dismissed Daphne’s assertion. “Moments later, we were out back, and Brian told me he was everyone’s type.”

“Back up. Why were you both out back?” Daphne gave him a knowing look.

“I needed a breath of fresh air because it's all so confusing,” Justin exclaimed.

“And he followed you.” Daphne continued to give him a look. “Because he likes you.”

“No, Brian isn’t like that. He doesn’t do boyfriends or commitment of any kind. He is all about sex.”

“And that makes you upset because you like him, and you know the moment he learned you don’t like sex, he would stop being interested.” Daphne pulled her best friend into a deep hug.

“I shouldn’t like him, Daph. I know it won’t end well. But, he’s all I think about even when he’s not around.”

“Then you need to limit your time around him. At least until you are over him.” Daphne gave Justin one last squeeze before she got up to go shower and head to her first class.

“How? He comes into the diner every day. I can’t exactly quit my job. I need the money.”

“How about I start coming to the diner after my classes to help keep you focused?” Daphne stated. “That way, you can work and not get drawn any deeper under his spell.”

“Okay. We can try that.” Justin agreed as he, too, got up to get ready for classes.

The next day, Daphne was true to her word and deposited herself at the back corner booth to study while Justin did his Friday evening shift. Things were going well, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Brian, despite seeing Ted and Emmett early in his shift. He was certain Brian wouldn’t show up that night when the man came breezing through the door. Only, he wasn’t his usual self. This time, Brian was wearing a white tee under his signature black leather jacket. His hair was a mess and Justin was pretty sure the tee had some stains on them. Not only that, Brian was lugging a baby carrier on his right arm. Justin bit back a laugh at the image.

A loud squeal was all he heard before Debbie pushed him aside in favor of the baby.

“GUS!” Debbie cooed as she unbuckled the baby and held him in her arms. Justin wasn’t familiar enough with babies to guess his exact age, but he figured he looked to be a few months old.

“If you love him so much, you can take him.” Brian groused and slumped down onto the counter. “Lindsay thought I was responsible enough to take care of him for the weekend while she works and Mel is at her yenta mother’s.”

“Well, you are his father!” Debbie admonished him. “And don’t insult Mel or her mother.”

“It’s not as though Mel wouldn’t do the same with me.” Brian tried to argue. “Besides, I gave up my rights as his father the day he was born. That was our deal.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t erase DNA.” Debbie chided and handed the baby back to Brian.

Justin finally found his voice enough to snark out incredulously, “You’re a dad?”

“I donated my spunk to a couple of cwazy wesbians.” Brian parroted as he stared his son in the eyes and made a goofy face for his benefit, “That doesn’t make me a father.”

Justin didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what to say. But it did end up making him think about his own father for the first time in ages, really think about him. Brian’s assertion that a sperm donation didn’t make him a father nor give him the responsibility of stepping up really got under Justin’s skin. His whole life he believed his father loved him unconditionally. Despite their lack of connection or understanding, the man still loved him. Then, he learned quickly that there was one thing that could turn his father’s love off. Coming out as gay.

He walked away and let Debbie deal with him. He went over to Daphne’s booth and sat down. She didn’t say anything, but she placed her hand on his just the same. If anyone understood his complicated relationship with his dad, Daphne did.

“Don’t judge him.” Debbie’s voice floated above him. Justin looked up into the soft, dark eyes of the woman, “Remember what I said about how most people here have their own story? Well, Brian’s dad is probably the worst of them all.”

Justin silently looked at Debbie as he processed her words. “Just think about it, sunshine.”

As Justin continued his shift, he occasionally let his gaze wander over to Brian. Eventually, the man pulled out what looked like work as Gus slept in his baby carrier. Without a word, Justin refilled his coffee cup. He looked at Brian’s papers from across the counter. It was a bunch of artwork for what looked to be an ad.

“Can I?” Justin motioned to the ad Brian was fussing over.

Brian looked at Justin and then at the ad. “Sure, I can’t quite figure out why I don’t like it.”

Justin looked it over. The people in the image looked happy enough, the words stood out. Then he saw it.

“You need to change the color of the font. Right now, the blue gives the image’s happiness a bitter tinge, making it sad. You want people to love the idea of this product. The text should be orange to invigorate them.” Justin gave a tight smile as he handed the ad back to Brian.

He started to move away and see to the people who had just sat down at Table 4 when Brian grabbed at his hand.

“How do you know?” The man looked genuinely interested to know how it was that Justin could see what he had missed.

“I’m an art major at PIFA with an interest in graphic art.” Justin shrugged and then went back to work, leaving Brian to contemplate what he’d just said.

By the time Justin was able to make it back over to Brian at the counter, another thirty minutes had passed, and he was now feeding the baby a bottle. Justin hung back to watch how gentle and unguarded Brian was around the little boy who shared his genetic material. Despite what Brian had said, Justin could see firsthand just how much Brian actually loved his son.

“You know, just because our dads before us have fucked everything up doesn’t mean you can’t do things differently,” Justin whispered, filled Brian’s cup again, and then walked away to clock out and gather up Daphne so they could go home.

He was just out the door when Brian’s hand landed on his bicep to stop him. Daphne gave him a look and motioned that she would be just up the block. Justin silently begged her to stay right there, but she shook her head and left.

Justin turned around and gave Brian a smile. The two stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes before Brian bit his lip. Justin noticed that his hands were doing that weird thing they did when he was uncomfortable or nervous, where he had his fingers battling each other for dominance.

“Look, I just wanted to say thank you.” Brian took a deep breath. His face looked pained, as though it took so much out of him to admit that simple phrase.

“Oh. It was no big deal.” Justin waved him off and moved to reunite with Daphne.

But Brian stopped him once more by grabbing his arm. Only this time, the force spun Justin around until he was in Brian’s chest, and the older man’s arms were wrapped around his torso. Justin knew he should leave right then. No good would come out of whatever was bound to happen next.

“I don’t understand you.” Brian whispered, “The minute a guy doesn’t show interest in me, I forget him. But with you, I can’t stop.”

“Uhh.” Justin’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I, um, I’m sorry?” Justin tried, not really sure what Brian wanted from him.

“I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. And yet, for some reason, I can’t quite get you out of my head.”

Justin couldn’t seem to get the words out at first, his brain in overdrive trying to process whatever it was that Brian was saying. He finally managed after what felt like hours.

“I believe in love and commitment. I’m not a fan of sex. It makes things messy and complicated.”

“I should be running away. And yet, all I want to do is get closer to you.” Brian admitted before he leaned over and placed his lips on Justin’s.

The heat that immediately radiated from Brian’s body and into Justin at their contact almost stopped his heart. This kiss was like nothing Justin had ever felt before. If lightning were to strike him down at that moment, he would die happy. Their kiss continued long enough for Brian’s tongue to ask for entrance into Justin’s mouth. That little tap woke Justin up, and the magic was gone. He pulled out of Brian’s touch entirely.

The two stared at one another and muttered, “Fuck.” at the same time, but with entirely different meanings.

Then Justin ran to Daphne, putting as much space between him and Brian as he could.

#queer as folk #brian kinney #fanfiction #justin taylor #alternate universe #asexual spectrum representation

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years ago

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Elevator Encounters – (Peter Parker x FemLatina!Reader)

A/N: This started as a joke between me and Val but if you guys want more... I wouldn’t mind it -Danny.

Words: 1,977

Warnings: Annoying men.

Twoidiots Masterlist

Next Part

Listen to: ‘El chico del Apartamento 512′ -by Selena Quintanilla

‘Cada día es igual por mi pasillo

Nunca llegó a mi puerta sin oír el chiflido’

It’s almost the end of the semester and school is kicking your ass. Your back is sore from all the weight you’ve been carrying on your back, your head hurts from the lack of sleep, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be dealing with your neighbour, who thinks you’ll fall in love with him if he continues to yell compliments at you from across the hall.

‘De un chavo que me dice que me está esperando

Lo que él debería hacer es ir y darse un baño’

You put on your earphones to pretend and avoid making eye contact, your gaze is glued to the screen of your cellphone, although you’re just playing with the notifications bar while waiting for the elevator doors to open. But Oscar never gives up that easily. You see him approaching out of the corner of your eye and you groan internally.

“Good morning,” He pulls out one of your earphones gently. “How we doing today?”

‘Y un aburrido me detiene otra vez

Y yo le finjo interés’

“It was okay before you showed up,” You reply without looking up at him. “Now it’s downright awful.”

Oscar laughs, he takes everything you say as a compliment even when it’s a blatant insult.

“Now, that won’t do. I can’t leave my girl while she’s upset, right?”

“I’m not your—”

“How about you come with me and we spend some quality time at my place?”

“Oscar, por favor,” You scowl, tired of his antics. “Boy, you’re like seven years older than me, I’m not into that shit.”

He starts to complain about how you never want to give him a chance, that he’s still on the younger side of his twenties, but you stopped listening as soon as the elevator opens in front of you.

‘Cuando de pronto sale del ascensor

La imagen de mis sueños

Él que yo quiero para mi dueño’

The boy looks up as he steps out, he sees you there and smiles a little.

“Hi!” He says brightly.

“Hi,” You say a bit clumsily after being taken by surprise.

You have no idea of who this kid is, no name, no age, nothing. All you know is that you’ve been crushing on him since you moved into the apartment across from his.

You continue to hear Oscar’s voice in the background when you enter the elevator, but you don’t understand a word of what he says, your eyes remain on the younger’s boy back and his curly brown hair.

All it takes for you to melt around this stranger is a greeting. That’s all he’s ever said to you, actually. “Hi”, “Later!”, and on one occasion “Oh, sorry” after he bumped into you outside his door when you were both leaving late for school.

‘El chico del apartamento 512

Él que hace a mi pobre corazón saltar’

Anyone that’s ever been at your place knows about your crush, your siblings know, your parents know, hell, that one kid that went to your house for a school project knows! Not that you spend every waking moment talking about him, but for some reason, he seems to always run into you at least once a day. Not that you’re complaining, though.

You’ve tried to talk to him once or twice, but you have been in this building for barely three months, besides, you’re too shy to think of something interesting to say without being too obvious.

He doesn’t seem like the type to make fun of you, he’s so cute and sweet so you’re sure he must have a bunch of people asking him on dates all the time, and the thought of being someone else on his list is kind of embarrassing.

‘Es él quien me hace tartamuda y más

Es en quien yo pienso y sueño noche y día

Él, solo él’

“I say you knock on his door and shoot your shot,” Your sister tells you. You both are struggling with the grocery bags, arms full. “What’s the worse that could happen? Maybe he’ll tell you ‘Sorry, I’m gay’ and then that’s it, but at least you’ll get over your crush.”

“I can get over my crush anytime,” You grumble, elbowing the elevator button so you don’t have to climb the stairs.

“You’re such a liar,” She chortles. “I’ve seen your Spotify playlist, you know?”

“Shut up.”

“And one of the songs... ¿cómo se llama esa?” She snorts. “You know, the Amor prohibido murmuran por las calles—˝

“Amor prohibido, babosa,” You roll your eyes. “¡Y esa ni es la canción! Can’t believe you don’t know your Selena lyrics, you’re an embarrassment...”

“No no, I got it!” She laughs, nudging your side so you don’t interrupt her. “Y un viejo me invita ‘chica, ven a verme’—Y le digo que no me caen los viejos raaabos verdes! Y camino a mi cuarto muy lentamente—Con la esperanza de veeerlo...”

Your sister continues to sing, you laugh at the way she gets lost in the song, eventually you join her and forget you even called for the elevator while you make your little show in the middle of the corridor.

“El chico del apartamento cinco doce!” Both of you dance clumsily, trying to keep the paper bags firmly held so you don’t drop the food. “Él que hace a mi pobre corazón saltar! Es a quien le hago cartas noche y día—Que nooo puedo entregaaaar!”

You’re being so loud and obnoxious you don’t even notice the person walking in and stopping abruptly at the sight of you. It’s not until half a second later that you turn around laughing your ass off that you see your neighbour, amusement written all over his face.

Your own smile fades and your sister stops singing, the boy chuckles lightly and stares at you both briefly before walking away.

“Sorry to interrupt!” He apologizes over his shoulder. “You guys sound great, by the way!”

When he walks out of the building you let out a whine.

“I hate my life!”

“Get in, andale,” Your sister pushes you inside the elevator. “He probably thinks you’re cute now—And funny!”

“I’m a clown,” You pout. “That’s what he thinks. Please, kill me.”

It’s not after a week that you see him again on a Friday night. You’re just coming back from a study session with your best friend, your keys are lost somewhere in your bag and you hear loud voices coming from the stairs. You hope is not Oscar and turn your back to face the elevator completely.

You recognize his voice the instant he steps into the lobby. He’s being accompanied by a girl, and for some reason that makes you want to cry even though there’s no reason for you to be upset about it.

“I promise I’ll send the rest first thing tomorrow morning.”

You stop searching for your keys and press the button of the elevator with a shaky hand. You can’t look at him after the humiliation you went through last week.

“I really want to believe you,” The girl sighs. “But you suck at being organized, Peter.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Peter. That’s his name!

“You know you love me,” He says teasingly.

Shit.

Perhaps he’s saying that in a friendly way?

No! Stop being a creep, you have no clue of who he is and what he likes. He’s not yours to keep.

Peter turns around once the girl leaves and notices you’re there. You curse the elevator, it always takes ages to come down to the first floor and right now you’re considering running up the stairs even if you die halfway.

“Hey,” He speaks, his voice light and happy.

You grimace but turn around anyway, smiling a little.

“Hi,” You respond. “Er... Peter, right?”

God, it feels so good when you say it. It’s such a cute name!

His face lights up, he steps closer towards you.

“Peter Parker,” He reaches out to shake your hand. “What’s yours?”

“Y-Y/N L/N,” You respond.

Your hand hesitates, but it feels as if an invisible magnet forces it to connect with his. His skin is warm and soft, and you love the way your hands look together.

“You moved in recently, right?”

“Yeah, my dad got a new job and we had to move closer to where he’s working now.”

“Cool,” His smile widens. “How’s your sister? Haven’t heard you sing in a while...”

“Oh god, please let’s not talk about that.”

He laughs, but it’s friendly and not at all meant to be teasing. The elevator finally opens and you walk in, Peter follows you.

“Don’t be embarrassed, your voice is nice!” He compliments you.

Oscar would never have the sweetness his voice holds in each word that comes out of his mouth. You wonder if his lips taste the same, the idea makes your cheeks go red and you look away from him to hide it.

“I think you should go check your ears, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to be nice, I know I’m a terrible singer, my mom says so all the time.”

Peter is beaming, this is the first time he gets to have you all to himself, finally able to have a conversation with you. He’s so sad when you finally reach your apartment, he’s got no clue of when he’ll see you again, but he silently begs for you to ask for his number or his Facebook. Hell, he would give you the digits of his credit card if you asked.

‘Pero hoy por fin me he decidido de veras

Todo mi amor a confesarle’

Your mother hears voices outside the door and sees you talking with Peter. She opens the door so abruptly you two jump away in surprise.

“Hola!” She exclaims, a huge smile adorning her features. “You’re the boy from across the hall, aren’t you? Come in! Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“¿Te gustaría quedarte para siempre?” Your sister yells from the living room.

Peter laughs loudly at this, you look at him in alarm.

“No, gracias,” He responds with a clumsy accent. “Tía May me espera...”

He can speak Spanish!

Oh, shit. He understands Spanish.

You’re going to kill your sister.

“I’ll be inside in a moment, ma,” You grab the door and close it. “Y más te vale no espiarme Y/S/N!”

Peter chuckles again, although this time he doesn’t fully understand what you said.

“So,” You start shyly. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” His hand shakes yours again, and he cringes at the action. God, he’s such a damn nerd. “It was nice to officially meet you.”

“Same goes to you...”

You don’t know what makes you say it, probably the fact that he dared to speak a little Spanish in front of your mother convices you that he’s worth the embarrassment of looking like a fool for a second.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but... can i ask for your number?”

“Oh—Yes!” He replies, perhaps a bit too loud for his own good. “Yeah, I mean, it’s fine... if you want to.”

You give him your phone so he can add it to your contacts and you do the same in his. You see he wrote “Peter Parker” with a heart next to it.

What a smooth, sickeningly sweet bastard.

“Alright,” You’re so happy you’re practically glowing. “I’ll text you later, then.”

“Sure, maybe to arrange a movie night—I mean, if you like the idea, it’s just that I organize movie nights at my place every week and my friends come all the time—like MJ, you met her like ten minutes ago, she’s a friend. We’re friends.”

He has no idea of what he just said out loud, but you laugh, so he stops caring about it right away.

“Movie nights sounds amazing,” You reply trying an failing to control the pounding in your chest. “Have a good night, Parker.”

“You too, Y/N.”

You both enter your homes, your sister and your mother are waiting for you in the living room.

“So?” They ask in excitement.

“Familia, me les caso,” You state.

Meanwhile, Peter enters his own house and rushes over to his Aunt’s bedroom where she’s comfortably reading. She looks up and raises a brow.

“What’s going on, you look all red...”

“I got her number, May,” He smiles.

Add yourself to out taglist!

Forever Taglist.

@just-here-to-escape-from-reality @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

Marvel Taglist.

@silenthappyplace @yourbonesareinmybody @tyb1 @hufflepuffzutara @lauramacch @thelastpyle @aconfusedslytherin @tomshollandz @scarlet-marie @poestryislife0715 @heavenlymistake

#twoidiots writing #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fic #Peter Parker x reader #Spiderman

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sweeethinny · 3 years ago

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This is random, but I wanted to say how much I enjoy that you wrote Al as gay but didn't make him in love with Scorpius! It's a friendship I love. Any chance you'd write more about them? :)

Mah, I took too long with this, I'm so sorry!

but i finally wrote it, and i hope you like it <3

AO3

------

Because that's what friends do

"You're an idiot. She doesn't care about you."

"How do you know?"

"Because she likes my brother." Albus said, rolling his eyes at the fact that his friend is the only one denying it. Even Lily noticed, when last week they saw the two of them in the garden in the afternoon, she was sitting against a tree with a book in her hand, and he was lying on her lap sleeping.

It was obvious that they had long since stopped being friends.

"Well, you could be wrong," Scorpius shrugged, sitting at the Slytherin table but his eyes focused on the table in front of them, where hair as blond as his stood out.

It was early, there weren't many people there, Albus didn't even want to be up so much before their class time, but they had to study and he had promised he would go this time. He almost always preferred to stay asleep, even if he had to study late into the night afterwards.

Albus worked best at night.

"Man, she probably sees you as her boyfriend's younger brother, as she sees me,"

"They don’t date." Scorpius stared at Albus like a hungry owl. He sighed, giving up on trying to help.

They had already had that conversation many times, and they always ended up falling out because to Albus it was obvious that Mira didn't even remember Scorpius' existence, but his friend always said that he had never liked someone so much to understand what he felt.

"All I have is hope, you don't know what it's like."

Which was true.

Albus had never liked anyone, at least not in a loving way, but it was because he was… afraid.

The first time he realized he had found a man too handsome, much more so than his classmates, that's when Ben Johnson was revealed as a new player for Puddlemere and appeared shirtless on the cover of Witch Weekly magazine.

The image of him smiling with that beautiful face of his, and his body all tanned, strong and sweaty, stayed in his mind for much longer than it should have. And Albus still had his poster because his arms looked huge in that uniform and heavens, how could anyone be so handsome?

But of course no one knew that, because it seemed wrong that Albus should spend so much time liking a man when his friends seemed to be obsessed with the newest Harpies. Okay, they were pretty, Albus would never deny that, but not… that pretty. The Puddlemere guys were much more interesting to him, and Albus decided that was very wrong.

And he wouldn't even get into the fact that Elio, the new Hufflepuff chaser, was probably the prettiest boy Albus had ever seen at Hogwarts.

Elio was a year older than them, he was in his fourth year, and he was so kind it was irritating. Albus and he ended up meeting in the library at night when he went there to study, the Hufflepuff also seemed to agree that night was the best time to read and do the things that needed to be done, and whether for lack of friends or because he really wanted, Elio invited Albus to sit with him.

It was just the two of them there, and it was almost close to curfew, so not even the nerds were in the library, and as much as Albus didn't want to raise expectations, on other days, Elio also invited him to study. Which made it a very difficult situation for his poor heart.

"Are you listening to me?" Scorpius complained, glaring at Albus like he was crazy. "I asked you if you want to go to the gardens?"

''Why would you- oh…'' Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Albus saw James arriving at the Gryffindor table, waving to him before taking a seat next to Mira, who laid her head on his shoulder as he passed his arm around her waist.

Albus wanted to have James' confidence.

"Come on, it should be nicer out there." He tucked the books into his bag, wanting to tell Scorpius that he'd warned, but not thinking it would be very kind of him. He wouldn't like it if he did that.

''Where were you yesterday, by the way?'' Scorpius eyed him with a smirk, walking beside him out of the hall, looking as if he hadn't just seen the girl he liked showing affection to another guy. "You're full of secrets lately, should I be jealous?"

"Don't be an idiot," Albus pushed him away, chuckling softly and feeling his cheeks flush. ''I was studying.''

"You seem to have become quite fond of potions all of a sudden, Freya said there's probably someone involved in this… You'd tell me if it was true, wouldn't you?"

''Of course.'' Albus looked away, not because he didn't trust Scorpius to keep his secret, but because... if he spoke it out loud, it would come true, and he didn't quite know how to handle it yet. It was weird.

For years he had envied James his confidence and how extroverted Lily was, thinking that if it was them there, they would have no problem with just taking it on for the whole world and not caring what others thought about it.

Albus wished he could talk to his dad about it, because Harry would probably know how to handle it, but it would be hard to ask for advice without telling him that he liked boys.

"Hm… I wasn't so confident in that answer." The two sat down behind one of the greenhouses, like they used to.

‘’Where is Freya? I thought she was going to be here.'

‘’Don't change the subject, Potter... So, are you liking someone? Is that why you've come to love potions now and go to the library to study every night?'' Scorpius dropped his own bag on the floor, turning to him with eyes wide with curiosity, looking excited at the prospect of him having a date.

“There's no one.” Albus opened his bag, not wanting him to see his expression because he knew he wasn't a good liar.

‘’Come on, Al, please tell me. I promise I won't laugh.”

“Why would you laugh?” He grimaced.

‘’I don't know, maybe you're liking a hateful person and that's why you don't want to tell? Or… I don't know Albus, but it doesn't matter, please tell me. I told you about Mira, and she's your brother's girlfriend.” Scorpius shrugged.

‘’Aha! So you admit she's his girlfriend.”

‘’Okay, yes, I admit it. So, will this encourage you to tell me? Is it someone I know?'' Albus didn't quite know what to say, but he was spared that, because before he even opened his mouth, a group of Hufflepuffs passed by, probably heading to their morning Quidditch training, and in the midst of that jumble of voices and laughter was Elio, with his perfect brown hair in a bun, his uniform highlighting everything that was best in his body, and that smile that made Albus sleep smiling - even though he thought that was the dumbest thing of all.

His tanned skin seemed to glow against the yellow of his uniform, and Merlin helped him, he looked like a Sun God.

Albus was pathetic.

"Hey, Potter!" He greeted him, for the first time, in front of other people - but Albus usually flinched from him when he saw he was with his friends.

He thought it would combust.

"Hey, Perlman!" Albus nodded, trying not to smile too much.

Scorpius didn't say anything as the group walked away, it hadn't been a big deal, Elio hadn't declared himself to him or kissed him in front of everyone, but even so Albus felt close to screaming with happiness.

"Oh…" Scorpius was still looking in the direction where the group had gone, blinking nonstop. Albus was ready to say it wasn't at all what he was thinking and came up with some female name to say it was who he was in love with, but Scorpius wouldn't let him. ‘’Elio?! Why didn't you tell me before?” Was he…smiling?

‘’Scorpius, it's nothing-’’

''Change of plans, we're not going to study, we're going to go watch them train.'' Scorpius didn't even seem to think before throwing their books back into his bag, soon getting up and pulling Albus along with him, who was still a little mortified.

He wasn't going to the field.

''We will not go.''

‘’Of course we will! By Merlin's beard, why didn't you tell me? Elio is the nicest guy I've ever met, of course you'd fall in love with him, and I can't deny he's handsome.” Scorpius shrugged. ‘’Have you ever kissed?

"No!" Albus blushed, because he didn't want to admit that he'd thought about this much more than acceptable. "Are you… are you okay with that?"

"With what?" Scorpius blinked in confusion, pulling him toward the field.

‘’With me liking a boy... I mean... you don't have to pretend it's okay-’’

‘’Why would I need to lie? Look, Al, I'll be honest with you, I already suspected, you didn't hide the Ben poster so well,” Albus blushed even more, but Scorpius continued. ‘’But it's okay to like guys, you know? You're free to kiss whoever you want, and if you don't, that's okay too, it's your life…” He shrugged. "I'm your best friend, you don't need to hide these things from me." Scorpius' smile faltered. ‘’I'm still your best friend, am I not? Or has Elio already taken my place?’’

"Don't be an idiot." Albus pushed him again, laughing along with him. "You're still my best friend, even if you wake me up early to study."

‘’Well, now we found a new hobby for you to do; Watching Elio being hot in the air.” He said all dramatic, hands up, as if showing the title of a movie in the air. ‘’Much better than studying History, be honest.’’

"Much better." Albus smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely, because that burden seemed less heavy now that he was sharing it with someone.

''Is nothing. That's what friends do, isn't it?” Scorpius smiled, pulling Albus into a hug, not seeming to mind the people passing by and looking at them suggestively. "Come on, you still need to tell me if you've ever flirted with him."

#harry potter next generation #albus is a cute boy <3 #albus severus potter #next gen harry potter #james sirius x oc #albus severus x oc #hinny #my fic

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lovelyirony · 4 years ago

Text

@rhodee for you

When Tony had gotten back from Siberia, he hadn’t been able to see anyone for a long time.

But people had been to see him.

He wasn’t expecting Rhodey to come and see him for a variety of medically-related reasons, but he was hoping for an email or a phone call, at least a message about Tony being a “dumbass.”

And then he asked Pepper how Rhodey was doing, and she tenses up.

Pepper has never been a good liar to Tony, not since they got drunk together for the first time and she told him every single tell she had for lying. They could never hide from each other after that.

“He’s...knocked out, still.”

Tony raises his eyebrows.

“So, he’s not knocked out, something happened to him.”

“Tony, he...he doesn’t remember.”

“What, the fall? I wish I couldn’t remember that either, but I’m betting that that’s not what you’re talking about.”

“He doesn’t remember any of us. He doesn’t remember anything except for his freshman year of college. All of this information is...overwhelming for him.”

Tony freezes.

He and Rhodey didn’t live together freshman year. Hell, they didn’t even know each other freshman year. They became sort-of-friends near the beginning of sophomore year, and that meant...

Oh god.

Rhodey wouldn’t remember three important things:

1.) He’s bisexual.

2.) He’s an accomplished man who has achieved much in his lifetime and has grown comfortable with himself with years of help.

3.) He married Tony. They’re married.

For a long time, Rhodey didn’t really want to admit that he liked guys. It wasn’t something he ever talked about, nothing he ever wanted to discuss. He didn’t mind that Tony had an attraction to men, but he always seemed to put himself at a distance when Tony brought someone over for dinner or a study session.

Rhodey didn’t want to come to terms with it at first. He was very adamant that he would marry a nice girl and settle down, and Tony hadn’t contested it, hadn’t challenged him on it. That could have very well been the situation.

It wasn’t until the end of sophomore year--into the summer, actually--that Rhodey even wanted to tempt to talk about what attraction would even mean for him.

They had gotten together senior year, and Tony has a picture framed in their bedroom of Tony dipping Rhodey into a kiss (and dropping him after the picture was taken) after graduation.

“They had to take off his wedding ring for the surgery, but I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The doctors said to avoid bringing up any information that would surprise them, and I remember that you talked about it once...”

“Yeah,” Tony says thickly, his chest hurting from more than just a frisbee-toss gone wrong. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s, uh...let’s just transfer him over to the headquarters. I’ll just...I’ll figure something out.”

He can’t tell Rhodey he has a husband. He can’t. The reaction alone would be terrible, if he’s knowing what he knows.

So he doesn’t.

Tony welcomes Rhodey into the compound after taking down every single romantic photo, briefing everyone who still lived there that Rhodey had lost his memory, and praying to whoever would listen that Rhodey didn’t find out until he was comfortable with it.

“I don’t go by Rhodey,” was the first thing off of his lips. Not a hello, not a smile. “I go by Jim.”

“Right,” Tony says, smiling in that flashy way that Rhodey usually told him to stop, because it creeped him out because he knew what that smile was actually all about. “Jim. Nice to see you back.”

“I wish I could say the same, but I’m not exactly sure I remember you. Your face looks really familiar, though.”

“Well, that’s what nearly twenty-five years of knowledge can do to somebody,” Tony says quickly. “Let me show you to your room. Sorry about the lack of decorations, we didn’t really want to overwhelm you with anything.”

“I’m fine,” Rhodey says, clearly annoyed. “It’s just weird knowing that I’m way fucking older and apparently I graduated college and managed to make something of myself and I can’t remember any of it.”

“I can’t say I understand, but I can say that it sucks,” Tony says. “But, lucky for you, I kept some of your stuff.”

“A friend kept my stuff?” Rhodey asks. “Why?”

“Because I’m annoying and you pretend like you hate me, when I am the best thing that happened to you,” Tony says, smiling.

He then turns when he can see Rhodey’s--Jim’s--expression turn sour.

“Ah, anyway,” Tony says hurriedly. “You just...keep stuff sometimes.”

(He’s not going to mention that it’s because they shared an apartment. Or a house. Or a room. Or, on occasion, a bank account.)

“Dinner is gonna be at seven, feel free to come down,” Tony says, smile wearing thin.

Jim doesn’t come down.

Or he did, but he came down early.

Because he doesn’t want anything to do with Tony.

“It’ll just take time,” Pepper tells Tony over the phone. “Give him some space.”

So Tony does.

But it’s hard giving your amnesiac husband space when you’ve never done it before, not really.

Tony has always been around Rhodey, always been invading and crawling into his space, and Rhodey really only complained when Tony’s hands would sneak around his chest when the nights were dark and cold.

Now they’re at a distance, and Tony doesn’t know how to bring up any facts about their life.

So far, all Jim’s been doing is catching up on history.

“We fought Captain America?” he asks, gaping at the article about finding Captain Rogers in an iceberg. “Why?”

“He likes putting his foot in his mouth a lot.” Tony says. “And both sides have been notoriously bad at keeping their cool.”

“Oh. So we just...I fought him? Because I’m just friends with you?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, quite uncomfortable with the insertion of the word “just” in that sentence.

“...weird.”

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

“Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tony says. “But kinda funny. One time you called me ‘sugar-tits’.”

Jim laughs at that one.

“Oh god, that’s...rough. What else did I call you?”

Baby. Honey. Love of my life. Darling.

“Uh...” Tony says, pretending to think. “I think love-muffin was also an option.”

Jim throws back his head and laughs.

“How did we...how did we become friends?”

“Well, it all started with a dining hall and you trying to steal an entire painting without getting caught, and my valiant rescue...”

“Why do I get the feeling that that’s not true?”

“Because it isn’t,” Tony grins. “Just making sure your bullshit-detector is working again. It is. We met because we weren’t supposed to be roommates but they fucked up and the rooms filled up, so you dealt with me as best you could.”

“Oh,” Jim says. “What do we do for fun?”

Go on date nights. Talk about how stupid we were as kids. Debate who asked out who. Cook together.

“Uh, we used to...shoot hoops.”

“You don’t seem like a basketball kinda guy,” Jim says.

“Oh believe me, I wasn’t,” Tony responds with a laugh, “but you were, and you always liked kicking my ass on the court.”

“Good to know that I can still probably do that,” Jim says, smug and self-satisfied. “Hey, where did Pepper go?”

“Oh, she’s busy with a contract this week, what do you need?”

Jim puts his hand on the back of his neck in that nervous habit he always got (that Tony only knew about because every single time he would walk into the room after he realized he liked him in that way, Rhodey would do that).

“Um, just want to ask her something. About my life.”

And Tony can’t breathe.

He doesn’t know and that’s...that’s everything.

“She’ll be back for dinner,” Tony says. “In the mean time, I’ll be in the lab working on some stuff, feel free to do whatever.”

“Thanks, man.”

Pepper stares at Jim, who for so long has been one of her best friends and is now asking if he had anyone who he was involved with romantically.

“You...what?”

“Did I have a girlfriend or anything?” Jim asks. “Because, um, it’s going to kind of suck if I didn’t.”

“You had a girlfriend sophomore year,” she answers carefully. “That lasted for about three months or something. You’d have to ask Tony more about it, he knows more about you than I do.”

“And you said we’re...friends? We didn’t date?”

“Yeah, we are friends, no we didn’t date,” Pepper says. “We get lunch on Thursdays if you’re in town.”

“I’m in the army, right?”

“About to retire, too,” Pepper says with a grin. “You were really happy, you were planning on taking Tony on a trip.”

“I was?” Jim asks, frowning. “We’re...that close?”

“Well yeah, you’re-” Pepper pauses for a moment. “You’re best friends. You always like spending time with Tony.”

“Oh,” Jim says. “Okay.”

He knows that they’re lying to him. He gets why: if he learns too much, it could cause some sort of damage. And according to Friday, “Colonel Platypus” (whatever the fuck that means) keeps his personal life intensely private.

He doesn’t know why he’s done that. Why he’s kept everything so private. It’s not because of his military status, he thinks. Unless, of course, they put him on all sorts of secret projects. That could definitely be a thing.

Tony keeps almost calling him Rhodey. It’s a weird nickname. He doesn’t know why he apparently loves it. It sounds...stupid. Weird. Jim works just fine.

Pepper also said they were just friends. And she sounds like she means it. And Tony says they’re just friends, but he doesn’t sound like he means it.

But that doesn’t mean...?

No. Of course not. There would be pictures and rings and all of that sappy, gross shit that comes with weddings.

...would there be?

“Hey Friday?” he asks.

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes?”

“Um. Is gay marriage legal?”

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes, it is. Would you like further articles about the decision?”

“Uh...sure. I guess.”

He keeps reading articles (with reading glasses) and learns a lot about what’s been going on.

He’s just interested, obviously. In current events.

It’s a week later when he asks Tony about it.

“So...did you remember the whole legalization of gay marriage thing?” he asks Tony, who pauses at his coffee. “I, um. Read an article where they said you were bi, so I wasn’t sure if you-”

“No, I am,” Tony says. “I remember it really well. I celebrated well that day.”

he grinned as he looked at Rhodey, and swore to rent out the entire metropolitan museum of art, just for him. he would do anything for him, anything at all-

Jim looks at him.

“What did you do to celebrate?”

“Well, there were quite a lot of people at gay bars. We danced. I drank a glass of champagne. And then we danced again.”

“Someone was with me?”

“You were,” Tony says. “You were here when it happened, and it was...it was a good day for us.”

“I’m not gay though,” Jim says with a frown.

“Doesn’t mean that you can’t celebrate,” Tony says, eyes holding something in them that makes him look like he might cry. “Some people’s triumph can be a momentous occasion.”

It can the occasion where your marriage is finally recognized everywhere. It’s where you get the iconic photo of mashing cake in your partner’s face, and all of the guests are grinning and you’re happy, and--

Tony shakes himself out of that train of thought.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jim says. “Just...please tell me that you didn’t get any embarrassing pictures.”

“Oh I did,” Tony replies, grinning maniacally. “Would you like to see yourself in a feather boa or a flamingo floatie?”

“Oh my god,” Jim moans, throwing his hands to the dinner table. “No...”

“You looked a dream, gorgeous,” Tony teases. “And I have the pictures to prove it. I’ll get them out another time, I promised Dum-E that I’d help him pick up his mess.”

“Who is he?”

Tony grins.

“He’s our baby, metaphorically speaking. We built him on a half-drunk, half-dare kind of situation,” Tony says. “He’s a disaster.”

Jim thinks about it for a moment. “Can I...can I meet him?”

Dum-E hasn’t seen his dad in forever. He’s wheeling around Rhodey, beeping and nearly running over his feet.

“Great, your return has pushed back any build-up coordination training we did,” Tony scolds, although his tone doesn’t sound serious at all. “Dum-E, your father and I agreed to help clean, although methinks that Jim will be a great surveyor for us.”

“What’d you spill?” Jim asks.

“Couple of glass stuff,” Tony says. “He’s been really into stained glass recently, I think he was trying to make his own.”

“He can think?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “His coding, by the way, was like sixty percent you. That’s why he’s so damned stubborn and also why he puts motor oil into smoothies, genius.”

“Hey, that most definitely was you,” Jim says. “You didn’t grocery shop that day, so I was weak and malnourished.”

Tony stills.

“You...remember that?”

Jim pauses for a moment.

“You...you were supposed to go grocery shopping and I made a list,” he says, smiling fondly. “And you didn’t take the list because you said you had an eidetic memory, but you still forgot the lemons, so I don’t believe you.”

Tony throws back his head and laughs.

“Glad to have a memory for you, Rho-Jim. You want a glass of water or anything?”

“Water sounds fine.”

Jim watches as Tony works around Dum-E, obviously used to his quirks and mannerisms as he banters and threatens with nothing backing up that threat.

He smiles as he wheels himself over, grabbing a dust pan on his way over.

“Figured we’ll need this,” he offers. Tony accepts it with a smile.

“Thanks Jim.”

“You can-you can call me Rhodey. If you want.”

Tony looks at him for a moment.

“But is that what you want?”

Jim pauses.

“Yes. For now.”

“Okay,” Tony says, smiling. He’s not showing how fucking happy he is, how ready he is to leap for the moon and bring stardust down on his way home. “Thank you.”

Jim nods.

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

“Have a goodnight, Jim. Let me know if you need anything.”

He lies awake in bed that night.

“Hey, Friday?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“I...I’m not being told everything, am I?”

“Information can potentially be triggering to the current state you are in, Colonel Rhodes.”

“Are you being paid to say that?”

“I don’t get paid,” Friday says. “Although if I did, I would not want to take the money.”

“So I am missing something,” Rhodey says. “I just...I don’t know what.”

“It will come with time, Colonel Rhodes.”

“And if it doesn’t? If I have to relive life all over again?” He asks, growing agitated. “If my memory doesn’t come back, Friday...I’m not sure they’ll ever tell me anything.”

“It is already a good sign that you remembered Dum-E. He was missing you quite terribly.”

“Can I...can you show me a picture of me with him?”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Rhodey has a sharp intake of breath.

Right there.

Right on his left hand.

A wedding ring.

And then he looks at Tony, Tony who is looking fondly as Rhodey and Dum-E are reenacting some stupid thing, and there’s a-

A ring.

On the left hand.

That wasn’t there before.

Shit.

#i'm going to post this on ao3 too #but hehe :) there is no resolve to this :)#rhodeytony #ironhusbands #rhodey #tony stark #also yeah :) the jim and rhodey dichotomy :)#pepper potts #you get no solution from this (for now)#tony is. suffering.#and rhodey? oh my dearest darling he's suffering but in a whole other way

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the-queer-observer · 4 years ago

Text

The TOXICITY of straight dating culture: Do you even realize what you teach?

A few months ago, a straight teenage girl explained her crush to me with the sentence “He’s so toxic.”

I know a 17-year-old girl with a little to no clue of how a non-toxic relationship should look like.

I started noticing a certain pattern online and in my real life too.

Now it’s a time for my first disclaimer: I am not straight myself. Nope. Not at all. Perhaps that’s why I see through it.

To this point, all I have done about this is that I have complained to some friends, got over it and went on with my life.

Today, a girl, no older than twelve, has told me about her crush on a “bad boy” and we talked about him for a second. He really did seem like what the definition of a bad boy is for tweens.

I snapped.

And here I am, writing my first tumblr post ever on this very topic.

I want to make clear, this is not an attack on those girls. This is an attack on the society, what it taught them and what it failed to teach.

The youngest girl and me, we talked about music. She said she liked “dramatic” songs and played me some of her favorites.

Disclaimer number two: I did know both the artists, but I don’t actually listen to them. The closest to mainstream music my playlists get is Take me to church by Hozier, the rest being a wide range of songs, interprets and genres from pop punk to death metal and everything in between.

I was actually surprised. One of the two artists she played for me was Billie Eilish. The beginning of the song went:

Don't be cautious, don't be kind

You committed, I'm your crime

Push my button anytime

You got your finger on the trigger

But your trigger finger's mine

The second song was by Maroon 5.

It was even worse:

So what you trying to do to me

It's like we can't stop, we're enemies

But we get along when I'm inside you, eh

You're like a drug that's killing me

I cut you out entirely

But I get so high when I'm inside you

Yeah you can start over you can run free

You can find other fish in the sea

You can pretend it's meant to be

But you can't stay away from me

I can still hear you making that sound

Taking me down rolling on the ground

You can pretend that it was me

But no, oh

I am not going to argue about whether it’s appropriate or whether she understands the lyrics the way I do. It doesn’t even matter. She understands the drama in the song. She understands it enough for me to be concerned.

There are other songs like that. There is a whole culture teaching pre-teen and teenage girls, that “they can’t get away”, romanticizing toxic people and toxic relationships, blurring the lines of consent and guess what? The girls believe it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I texted my girlfriend and we spent some time looking for straight love-songs, celebrating healthy relationships. None of them were mainstream, but we found things like:

That the world is ugly

But you're beautiful to me

Are you thinking of me

Like I'm thinking of you

I would say I'm sorry, though

Though I really need to go

I just wanted you to know

I wanted you to know

I'm thinking of you every night, every day

(My Chemical romance)

And

Desperate for changing

Starving for truth

I'm closer to where I started

I'm chasing after you

I'm falling even more in love with you

Letting go of all I've held on to

I'm standing here until you make me move

I'm hanging by a moment here with you

Forgetting all I'm lacking

Completely incomplete

I'll take your invitation

You take all of me now

(Lifehouse)

First of all: Those are 4 extracts of songs, chosen by me to demonstrate my point and they may or may not reflect the reality, you (the reader) see: those two songs might be just an exception, but in that case this post is still not canceled, because there is enough of other correlations and causation for me to have a reason to write this.

Those songs are “dramatic”, but the drama shifts from the relationship itself and its toxicity to the circumstances and environment. My girlfriend even recommended a punk song called Ne touche pas moi (Do not touch me), which is entirely about consent.

I am not explicitly saying that the songs she played for me are bad. It’s not for me to decide.

But all Billie Eilish’ fans I ever met were in the age range between eleven and fourteen, so I am supposing that’s her target audience. As for Maroon 5, I have no idea. However, music influences us. The girl is old enough to know what kind of music she likes and wants to listen to and with the peer pressure going on there, her parents do not really have a say in what she listens to and they are not to be blamed for this.

It’s the culture.

Toxicity is not a positive trait to look for in a potential partner. Even if he is a good looking one.

Enough of music.

Do you know who the toxic crush was?

Draco Malfoy.

One of the most famous of all characters in media, famously portrayed by Tom Felton in the Harry Potter film series.

Disclaimer number four: I have a problem with the books and movies and I also have some issues with the author.

Still, I see a fandom celebrating the love of Severus Snape for Lilly Evans Potter. Except it’s not love and it’s not a crush either. It’s an obsession. One that has become so iconic, the word “Always” is one of the main symbols of Harry Potter.

It shouldn’t be.

It should have never happened.

Draco Malfoy is quite the same thing. He is a racist, a bully. He is raised to be one, sure... That’s not an excuse. He doesn’t actually have a canonical redemption arch (not counting the deleted scene from the last movie and the Cursed child). If he came up to Hermione, acknowledging his mistakes, apologizing for his behavior, then maybe. Perhaps... That’s another story though. My point is, Rowling fails to actually depict problematic characters as actually problematic, they are romanticized by her, the filmmakers, the fandom and the wider audience.

Girls are taught to be the ones to make the redemption arch happen, irl or in fiction. They are supposed to date whoever is into them, regardless of whether they like the person back, and it’s unbelievably often I see them crushing on villains and problematic people like Draco Malfoy, because they are taught, he would change for them or that they could change him.

Toxicity is not a positive trait to look for in a potential partner. Even if he is a good looking one.

Those together result in a complete lack of knowledge of how a healthy relationship should look like. That’s the case of the third girl I mentioned. Being best friends with both her and her current boyfriend, I had three points of view on their relationship. It’s only been the past few weeks, not more than two month it has shifted to a more positive, healthy relationship.

It’s not the girl’s fault. They learn what a healthy relationship is the hard way, mostly after going through a toxic one(s).

WHY?

The sentence: “I always fall for the bad guys.” lacks the essential: “because the society taught me to” part.

It’s so common.

It’s too common.

It’s not even that we wouldn’t talk about it: we do. But you celebrate it. And that is not okay and that is the reason I am typing this.

Disclaimer number 5: The gender roles in this post are based off of my observations. I do acknowledge the fact that girls can be and sometimes are the toxic person in the relationship and that the lesson boys are thought is no way better (more freeing perhaps, but not right either) . It might not be specific to the straight culture either, but again, my observations were.

I was about thirteen, when I figured out I was gay and I had to learn everything on my own. How the relationships should work out, what is healthy and what is not... I had to learn on my own because the society failed to teach me anything. I am yet to decide whether that’s better or worse than teaching the wrong one.

#lgbtq #spilled thoughts #punk #music #culture #society #feminist #teenagers #relationship #toxic is toxic #toxicity #gay girls #queer #random observations #harry potter #draco malfoy

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takaraphoenix · 3 years ago

Text

Buffy Season 8: Review

It’s bad. It’s just... really... bad. That’s the TL;DR of this review. There was one (1) good thing about this season and that was the return of Oz. So if you’re looking for something that hypes season 8? This is not it. If you are confused, angry or salty about season 8? Hi, yes, me too.

Starting at the beginning. At first, I was really happy that they introduced more characters of color, with Renee and Satsu. And when Renee was then even “promoted” to Xander’s love interest? Nice. The two were even cute.

But no. That was all just the set-up to fridge her. Which, I am so very tired of that trope. And that is what that was. That wasn’t just a slayer dying during a fight. The entire issue of her death focused on her and Xander, building up to their relationship, setting them up for their first date, having her be prominently featured, just to then kill her off and have Xander avenge her.

What made it feel even worse - worse than just the fridging - was that they really had to fridge one of their very few women of color. And, to top it off, spend the entire issue in which she dies having her subjected to racism. Just great. Really, you managed to make an already shitty trope even worse. That’s impressive.

The racism itself too. Dracula. They just decided to make Dracula totally racist now, huh? and it doesn’t get a pass just because Xander points out in the comic that he doesn’t remember Dracula being this racist. Because he wasn’t. This Dracula just throws around slurs left and right in a way that feels more like the writers just really wanted to use slurs. Because the character? He was suave, charming, heck he charmed the straight men and the lesbians too when he was on the show. He was a smooth talker. This Dracula? He just... He was just racist and rude in general. Why.

Moving on from the racism to the next failure in rep. The gays. At this point in time I am simply convinced that Joss Whedon is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of bisexuality.

I know I’ve already made a separate post complaining about this, but it needs mentioning in the review of the season too. Having Buffy hook up with a lesbian twice, but #NoHomo, just a straight girl in her “experimental phase”. That’s just cringey and also offensive. Just... make her... come out as a bisexual? It’s not like the writing in the show hadn’t already set her up with quite the bi vibes.

Instead, the narrative made it sound like the only options would be to be straight or to now suddenly turn “into” a lesbian. Which is also offensive on itself, because - as this very show had proven on screen - lesbians can come out later in life and genuinely, I adore Willow’s arc. For her narrative, it fit to have her come out as a lesbian, the circumstances and her life fit for that. I absolutely agree that it would have been weird for Buffy to have a sudden coming out as a lesbian at that point in her life and after everything, but referring to it as turning into a dyke was just not great.

And lesbian wasn’t the only option. Though, I’m unsure Whedon knows that, considering that 6/6 canon queer characters are homosexual and 4/4 wlw are lesbians. They just keep introducing more lesbians - which, as a lesbian I am always in favor of more lesbians. However, when you have a very small number (2) of queer characters, it figures you can not cover all the sexualities and it’s even fair that even with two, you still choose to have them both be the same sexuality. But... the more you add? The more questionable it becomes that you limit it to one sexuality only.

This arc would have so beautifully set up for Buffy to come out as bi. But no.

And while we’re on the wlw; one of the things I always loved about Buffy was that the lesbians weren’t just there for the male gaze, they weren’t oversexualized. They desired each other, they even had sex. But... in a normal frame work, to a normal amount, meaning equal to how the straights were handled. I always liked that, because especially in early days, lesbians were usually just there to look really hot and have hot sex that straight men could get off to. Well, consider me very unimpressed with the comics, because... man are lesbians sexualized now. Willow gets a hot constantly naked snake goddess girlfriend whom she can only contact by - and I am not making this up - having an orgasm. So we prelude the trip by her having sex with Kennedy, before waking up all nude in snake goddess’ realm and usually having am makeout session or sex with her too while doing whatever business she has with her. So much nakedness, so much oversexualization. Really... disappointing.

Staying on the romance but turning to the other Summers sister, I truly can’t believe they made Xander/Dawn canon. Like, I can not comprehend they decided to make that a canon ship.

Sure, Dawnie’s had a crush on Xander since the literal beginning of Dawn. And that was... cute, honestly. Fifteen year old girls have crushes on cute older guys who are nice to them. Figures. Adorable. But she kind of... grew out of that over the course of the show? Or so it seemed...

And Xander. One of the things I loved about Xander was that Dawn was always a total no go. She was Buffy’s sister, heck, she was kind of every Scoobie’s little sister. He had always had brotherly advise for her. Heck, in this comic he points out that it’s weird since he’s known her since she was little - and yeah it is. It’s not weird when two people were both little together, but when one was sixteen when the other was eleven and one has babysat the other? That’s weird.

Getting infinitely more disturbing by the fact that she... literally... just turned eighteen. If they had put this into a rather later season, or a bigger time skip, had Dawn been A WomanTM for a few years now and Xander had gotten around to separating the idea of kiddo!Dawnie from the woman she has become, but Dawn is only eighteen, she hasn’t become a woman yet. She just turned legal to bang and thus, a switch was flipped in Xander’s mind, putting her on his radar. And just... no. Why.

And even beyond this decision; Dawn spends the first third of this season being slut-shamed in ridiculous ways. Which is also tiresome. I am the last person to defend cheaters, but there’s a difference between “You cheated and are being held accountable for it” and “You cheated so now you are cursed to be a giant, a centaur and then a porcellain doll for weeks at a time, being publicly humiliated and having control over your body taken away from you”. That was... sure a choice.

Moving on to the actual main problem of this season. The plot.

Starting with the incomprehensibly dumb idea of “hey let’s retreat to Tibet, put a huge target on Oz’s new home and get rid of all of our magic. surely that will not come to bite us in the arse when the bad guys find us”. Naturally, it came back to bite them in their collective asses. This was just... No one objected or pointed out how dumb that plan was? Really? No one? Really?

Anyway, let’s talk villains. And work our way up there. The return of Amy and Warren. Once again, I ask why. I’m still salty about the 180° Amy did from sweet Wiccan to wicked bitch after her stint as a rat, but having her now... hook up with Warren, the second biggest misogynist on this show, who is also skinless. She used a spell to keep him alive but she couldn’t... give the spell a color? Anything? Anything to not make him look flayed? Because this was just unnecessarily gross body-horror.

Not to mention the... lack of reaction? Sure, some spoke grumpily against working with Warren. But... this is Warren. The guy who killed Tara when he was trying to kill Buffy. There really should have been more breather-scenes of the Scoobies talking about this, digesting the fact that the guy was still alive and more so when they worked with him.

But nevermind them, because they’re working for Angel. Because Angel’s the villain behind this season. I mean, he was manipulated into that by Twilight, but manipulated means he still chose to do it.

Now let me preface that I might not ship Angel/Buffy, but that really only factors marginally in here, because this plot would be bullshit even if it were my OTP.

We now retcon the creation of the Slayers as not just being something dirty old men did in a cave, it was now all the greater plan of the universe. Which. Might have worked had Slayers been... naturally occuring. And not created by men, forcing this upon a young woman. Sure, what people do can be seen as the greater plan of the universe too if you will, but that seems like a cop-out that absolves bad people of their bad choices and deeds.

Anyway. The universe created Slayers and vampires and the ““balance”“ between them (which is bullshit anyway because 1 Slayer vs thousands of vampires... not balanced at all), including the now supposedly destined romance between Angel and Buffy.

Both get rewarded with super-powers now so they can super-fuck and thus give birth to a new universe. That universe is called Twilight and manifests as a burning, winged, green lion who can talk (because that sure is how I always headcanoned Angel/Buffy’s children to look like /s) and who, through time-travel shenannigans, has been manipulating Angel into his own creation.

The magic pull between them is so strong that it overrides the “Angel just caused the death of over two-hundred Slayers” so Buffy fucks him.

At which point I just... this season was flat-out character assassination of Angel? He was manipulated by the bad guy. Not controlled, manipulated. He caused the death of hundreds. He threw everything he stood for and believed in out the window for the promise of a paradise where he could be with Buffy, when the real Angel has chosen other things, higher goals, over being with Buffy over and over again, because that’s what they do. That is their whole thing, they choose the good of the world over being together. They have always been a “will they/won’t they?” where the answer is they won’t, because they know they are needed elsewhere, by others. But now Angel just... doesn’t care about all that anymore, or heck about his own son and his friends, ready to abandon everything for this.

And then when Twilight is born and consequently abandoned by Buffy, who still prioritizes her friends, family and the world over being with Angel, Angel actually... needs convincing in the abandoning? Because, again, character assassination. Ultimately, Angel gets controlled by Twilight and used to kill Giles and try to kill Buffy.

But thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of Spike dropping in in the final arc, they know how to stop this. He hasn’t been in this season so far, because - truly in line with this season - he was off being the king of a race of alien bugs, traveling in their space-ship.

To stop this all, they go back to Sunnydale, where of course the “heart of the Earth” is located, the seed that contains all magic, and destroy it, and with it all magic. Also, the Master was apparently always just there to guard that seed. He is now back from the dead!

Let me summarize that once more, just for emphasis: The universe wanted Buffy and Angel to fuck so they can give birth to a new universe that personifies as a green, winged, burning lion but before it can destroy our universe, Spike, now king of an alien bug race, delivers the solution to go back to Sunnydale and destroy the seed of all magic that is being guarded by a resurrected Master.

How do you read that with a straight face? How do you pitch that? This is just so incomprehensibly stupid.

We end the comic with Buffy as a waitress, hated by many, Xander and Dawn now have an apartment and are playing house, Willow broke up with Kennedy because she realized she is in love with the snake goddess she will now never get to see again, Giles is dead, Faith somehow inherited everything from Giles and she is also the designated Angel-sitter now.

#Buffy Season 8 #Buffy Review #Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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ryrycaptain · 4 years ago

Text

Lets See Where This Goes

Description:

Dan and Phil go to the same high school, with Phil a year older than Dan. Phil’s aesthetic is more 80’s/retro, whereas Dan’s is a grunge e-girl aesthetic with makeup. Ever since Dan’s freshman year, Phil admired him for embracing individuality and slowly started to fall for him. However, they never talked except for Phil being nervous and clumsy around Dan. Little did he know that Phil had feelings for him but didn’t show it.

Notes:

Hello! Thu is my very first fic for the PRB, and I'm excited for you all to read. My piece was inspired by the lovely art futurebunnyfluff made. My amazing beta was supermariohbrothers! . I hope you enjoy the fic.

ao3 link

When Phil first saw Daniel Howell, the younger boy had been talking to Phil’s new maths teacher for directions. He quietly slipped past the pair, but it didn’t stop him from noticing the younger boy's style. Dan had been wearing a black shirt with a small logo of an upside-down smiling face. The shirt was worn over a black and white striped shirt and tucked into black shorts that were adorned with white ruffles. The belt cinched around his waist pulled the outfit together and highlighted Dan’s curves. Although the outfit was bold, Phil was surprised to see the purple lipstick that coated the younger boy’s lips. He also noticed the slight blush on his cheeks and the purple eyeshadow coating his eyelids. Overall the younger boy looked absolutely breathtaking with his brown curly hair and chocolate eyes.

His attention had been stolen by the way the boy stood confident by the teacher and how he moved his hands while talking. Dan was confident, and he knew he was special. Phil couldn’t help be inspired by the way the younger boy presented himself when there were so many threats for being different.

Phil’s style wasn’t too out there, but it still stole attention from all the wrong people. He liked the 80’s aesthetic he’d come to life over the year. It helped represent his old soul. He'd been bullied on multiple occasions, and his sexuality had been a popular topic amongst his classmates for a good half of last year. He couldn’t imagine being as confident as Dan was. Needless to say, Phil had been distracted for the rest of the day.

It didn’t get much better after that though. He was often caught sneaking glances at the other boy, and it became a hot topic at his lunch table. He was sitting with his food in front of him staring at the younger boy when PJ dropped into his seat across from Phil. The other boy followed Phil’s gaze, “Have you talked to him yet?”

Phil shook his head. “Every time I try I get too nervous and back out.”

It was true. In a way, Dan had become his idol, and Phil looked up to him like he looked up to Muse. It was stupid, but Phil couldn’t stop his mind from creating situations where Dan would run away or think he was obnoxious. Just as he was about to spiral, Pj interrupted him, “Stop overthinking it, Phil. He’s just another teenager.”

PJ had been his friend since the day he accidentally stepped on the other boy's sandcastle at the park. They’d grown close quickly, and PJ could somehow read his mind at this point.

“I’m trying, Peej.”

Pj sighed “What could go wrong?”

Phil didn’t even need to think before he started listening off all of the reasons introducing himself to the younger boy could go wrong. “-might think I’m weird and hide from me for the rest of my life. Really there are a million ways it could end badly.”

“I wasn’t being serious,” Pj said glaring, “Seriously though, you should go talk to him. I don’t think I can stand you looking at him like a lost puppy for the rest of the year.”

Phil huffed, “Fine.”

He stood up and made his way to the other boy’s table, walking with confidence he didn’t know he had. When he actually gets to the younger boys table, he loses it immediately. He can feel the blood rush from his face, and his lips are moving but no words are coming out.

Dan looks flawless yet again. The younger boy has a purple crop top that stops just above the band of his black ripped jeans and he sports clunky Doc Martens. He’s wearing makeup again, and it sparkles against his eyelids. Phil’s pulled out of his reverie by a small cough. “Hi,” Dan says.

His voice isn’t as high as Phil imagined it, but it’s still smooth. “Hi,” he responds, “I’m- um- Phil. Yeah, that’s right. That’s my name. Phil. Phil Lester.” He laughs awkwardly and then he’s taking off, away from the table and back to the one friend he has.

When he flings himself into his chair, Pj jumps and he looks at Phil with caution in his eyes. “Did everything go down well?”

Phil feels like he’s about to cry and he has to blink a few times to clear the unshed tears from his eyes. “God I screwed everything up,” he groans.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Pj reassures him.

“I promise you it was that bad.”

Pj snorts, “Not everything is as bad as you think it is.”

After that, Phil lays low and he doesn’t talk to anyone but Pj. He wouldn’t say he was a social butterfly, but he made an effort to talk to people most of the time. He’s worried that Dan’s going to start rumors about him and it’s not implausible.

Dan had become quite popular a few days into the school year. He’d made a lasting impression on most of the popular girls, and he seemed to get along well with them. Phil was pretty sure a few of the girls even had crushes on him. The only thing keeping Phil’s hopes alive is the rumor that Dan’s gay. The younger boy hasn’t commented on it yet, and for all Phil knows, the younger boy could be dating one of the most influential people in the school.

The only thing keeping Phil from worrying about the girls themselves whispering about him is the fact that Dan sits away from them with his friend Louise. Louise was nice with curly blonde hair dyed pink at the tips. She seemed like a mother hen, and Phil constantly caught her fixing Dan’s hair or lecturing the younger boy.

Phil’s pretty sure he should try talking to the other boy again to quell his fears, but he still hasn’t convinced himself to do so. He ends up going to talk to Dan on several occasions before chickening out.

He spends the rest of the year giving Dan longing looks and wishing he wasn’t socially inept. His wishes don’t come true though so he stays away and sulks. Pj confronts him multiple times and he ignores the other boy’s advice every single time.

—

The next school year, Dan starts dating one of the football players at school and it confirms one thing for Phil. [ Dan likes guys. ] After his hopes are confirmed his crush gets worse and he’s desperate for a relationship with Dan whether it’s a friendship or something more.

When he finally gains the courage to talk to the other boy, he trips right over an outstretched foot, and he can’t stand to look at Dan for days.

He’s always been clumsy and he doubts he'll ever be able to get away with hurting himself in front of Dan. This time rumors spread, but he doubts Dan was the one who started. He’s only giving Dan the benefit of the doubt because everyone saw it.

His avoidance of Dan spans the rest of the school year, and Phil spends most of his summer listening to Muse and complaining to Pj about his lack of social skills. He also finds Dan’s social media and stalks it for days mesmerized by his makeup looks. He’s seen Dan in makeup before but those are simple looks that don’t draw too much attention, but the looks he posts online are extravagant and eye-catching.

It inspires Phil and he spends a lot of time painting eyes and other random designs onto thrifted clothing that he finds on his shopping spree. By the time he’s done being inspired, he has enough new outfits to last him the first two months of school.

He’s amazed by what the younger boy brings out him, and they don’t even know each other. It makes him think about how much more inspiring Dan would be if they were friends but he pushes that thought away and distracts himself with something new.

—

The first day of school this year was the last and Phil was excited by the idea. He dressed in a black button-up that had a retro pattern scattered across in and threw a pair of stared overalls he painted over top of the shirt. The patterns meshed well but still provided a neat look. He lastly threw on his battered pair of converse and headed off to school.

His day starts off well but it gets better when he finds out Dan is in the same AP art class as he is. He’s honestly surprised the other boy likes art but then he remembers the amazing makeup the younger boy does. He realizes he barely knows anything about the younger boy. He knows things from rumors and social media, but half of it could be fake.

Phil spends most of the class sulking over the fact that he isn’t near Dan, but his luck pulls through a few weeks into the school year. They’re doing a partner's projects and the teachers picked the pairs. He usually picks Pj, and most of the time, the teacher pairs them up as well. She must have noticed the way he smiled at Dan though because she makes them partners.

He gives Pj an apologetic look and makes his way over to Dan’s desk. “Hi. I’m-”

“Phil. Phil Lester,” he teased, “I remember.”

Phil groans, “Sorry I’m so awkward. I’m surprised you didn’t run away when you found out I was your partner.”

Dan laughs at that. “Why?”

“I’ve been so weird in front of you.”

“That just made you all the more interesting. I’ve been trying to get to know you for years, and you’ve just now noticed.”

“You have?”

“I’m mean- of course. You really inspire me.”

Phil’s caught off guard by that. He’s never seen himself as an inspirational person. He runs away from most of his problems, and he avoids human connections like the plague. He isn’t popular, in real life or online. It makes him feel awkward, and he wonders what Dan knows about him.

What happens if he doesn’t rise to Dan’s expectations? Phil can’t imagine disappointing the other boy, and he becomes self-conscious immediately. Besides, he’s borderline obsessed with the younger boy and he starts to worry if Dan has seen the internet stalking that Phil does. It would be even more embarrassing if Dan knew about Phil’s tendency to stare at the other boy.

“Why?” he asks Dan. It’s the only way he can find out what Dan thinks about him.

Dan hums and sits in thought for a few moments. “You seem happy with what you have. I have all of these friends and I’m treated like I queen by half of my dates, but I’m still not sure I’m the happiest I can be,” Dan sighs. “I’m sorry if that was too deep.”

“I don’t think it was,” Phil reassures him. “I had a lot of trouble at first. People aren’t the best at handling differences, and some people tried to change me. It made me stronger in the end though.”

The bell cuts off their conversation then, and Phil realizes they never discussed the project. He doesn’t even know what the prompt is. “Do you want to exchange numbers?” He asks Dan,

“Uh- sure,” he sputters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Phil takes a few seconds to type in his number and hands Dan the phone. “Text me?” Phil asks, “To talk about the project and stuff.”

“Yeah of course.”

—

Phil is stuck staring at his ceiling. He can’t seem to sleep and his brain is repeating the conversation he had with Dan earlier. It was weird to know that Dan looked up to him in the same way Phil looked up to Dan. Somehow they both comforted the other even though they barely knew anything about each other. He feels slightly guilty for not telling Dan about his admiration. He wishes he had Dan’s number so he can clear his conscience, but the younger boy still hasn’t texted him. It makes him worry he creeped out the other boy, and he doesn’t know how he’d get through the project if he has.

It’s like Dan’s reading his mind because the next thing Phil knows, his phone is brightening up with a message.

From Dan

Hey. It’s Dan :D

Phil can’t help but smile at the smiley face at the end of the message. It fits perfectly with Dan’s personality.

To Dan

Hey, stranger. What are you doing up so late?

From Dan

I couldn’t sleep. You?

To Dan

Same. I can’t stop thinking.

It feels weird to actually talk to Dan outside of school. He wants to run away from the awkward vibe the messages are giving off, but he isn’t risking a low grade in the class. Then again he doesn’t know the prompt so he’s probably doomed to a failing grade in the class anyways. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dan, but he’s a bit wary about working with someone other than Pj.

At least Pj is working with someone he knows. The girl’s name is Sofie, and Pj had mentioned her multiple times at lunch. Phil’s surprised he hadn’t noticed the look in Pj’s eyes when he talked about her before. Phil’s definitely jealous, but he’s happy knowing that Pj is living the dream.

From Dan

That’s never good.

To Dan

I suppose so.

He watches as the three dots in the corner of his screen move and waits for Dan’s reply. It’s awkward. Phil doesn’t like talking about himself that much, but he’s finally having a conversation with Dan. After a few minutes, the bubble disappears, and Phil is left alone again.

—

When he wakes up the next morning his eyes hurt from leaving his contacts in. He must have fallen asleep after Dan and he stopped talking. He stretches out and makes his way to the bathroom, relieving himself and trading his contacts for his glasses. His reflection looks exhausted and it makes him realize how tired he actually is. He tries to sort out the bird's nest that his hair has become and pushes it into a quiff.

His closet is a mess of colors and patterns, and he can’t seem to focus on any of the pieces. He ends up throwing on a random sweater and a pair of pants that he’d painted over the summer. He remembers his phone and picks it up. It’s completely dead and he can’t help but chastise himself for not plugging it in last night. He throws it on the charger and finishes his morning routine.

When he gets back to his room, his phone is back on and he has another text from Dan. [I can’t wait to work with you].

—

As soon as he meets up with Pj, the other boy is rambling about Sofie and how much they’ve talked. Apparently, they share multiple interests, and Pj thinks he’s found his soulmate. He can’t seem to talk about anything else, and Phil mopes in silence. He needs Pj’s advice on the whole Dan situation, but he can’t bring himself to interrupt his cheery mood.

At lunch, Sofie joins the duo at their table and Phil can't help, but feel like a third wheel. The other two can’t stop talking, and Phil gets annoyed quickly. Dan must notice the bored look in his eyes because he calls him over at lunch. “What's up?” Phil asks.

The other boy is wearing yet another black shirt, this one decorated with the print of an ouija board, and his classic Doc Martens, but the piece that surprises Phil is the skirt that Dan’s sporting. The piece that pulls the outfit together is thigh high socks that hug Dan’s long legs. Phil can’t help but stare for a few moments. He’s interrupted by Dan’s voice, “You looked bored.”

“I feel like a third wheel with them,” Phil shrugs. He turns to Louise. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Phil,” he states, sticking his hand out.

“I know,” she replies simply.

At that comment, Dan blushes. “Do you want to sit with us?” he asks, “We can talk about the project if you want.” Phil grimaces. “Or we don’t have to. Just sit with us.”

Phil slides into the seat next to Louise so he doesn’t have to turn to see Dan’s face. “What were you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Makeup,” Louise chirps.

“We can talk about something else if you want to though,” Dan adds.

“I don’t mind,” Phil answers.

Dan shakes his head. “Come on Phil. I want to get to know you better.”

“I’m not that interesting,” Phil replies.

“I don’t care if it’s boring. What’s your favorite band? favorite color? Do you have any hobbies?”

“My favorite band is Muse-”

“I love Muse!” Dan exclaims, cutting him off. “What’s your favorite album?”

“I guess Origin of Symmetry,” Phil replies.

“No fucking way.”

“What?”

“That’s my favorite too. You must have an amazing taste in music.”

Phil blushes at that comment. He never gets compliments, especially not from cute boys. “As for my favorite color. It’s blue, and I paint. A lot. I also play video games sometimes. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you have a favorite color? Hobbies? This isn’t going to be one-sided, Dan.”

“I guess my favorite color would have to be black, but I love pastels too,” he says gesturing to his outfit. “As for hobbies, I like makeup, though you probably already know that since you follow my Instagram page.”

With that comment, Phil’s face turns bright red. “I’m sorry. I just think it’s really pretty,” Phil mumbles.

“Don’t worry. I’m just glad you aren’t an asshole who thinks boys shouldn’t wear makeup,” Dan states. “Though I also like video games. I’ve been getting into Animal Crossing recently.”

“Good choice.”

They sit and talk with each other for the rest of the period, and Louise butts in from time to time. He feels bad for putting her in the same situation he was in with Pj and Sofie, but she seems caught up studying for a class for most of the conversation.

It’s weird getting along with someone so well. Even though their styles and friend groups differ, their hobbies and interests are almost the same. It’s easy to talk to Dan. He’s sarcastic and witty, and it makes Phil fall in love with him a little more.

—

When Phil finds out what the project is, he immediately relaxes. It’s a symbolic portrait. All he has to do is create a portrait that reveals parts of Dan’s personality. He’s looking forward to learning more about the younger boy, and he can’t wait to see what Dan does to represent Phil.

It’s hard coming up with an idea at first. Dan has so many layers that Phil has learned about over the past couple of days and it’s hard to choose the most important aspects. He wants to pick something that most people don’t know about Dan, but it’s hard when Dan is so popular. That’s when he thought of a plan.

——

They were up next and Phil was a mess. He was half-convinced he was dying even though he knew it was just an anxiety attack. His palms were incredibly sweaty, and he felt his chest constricting. He could barely focus on the duo presenting in the front of the classroom. They were talking about fish or something similar.

He was jolted out of his dream-like state when he felt a hand being rested on his shoulder. He turned his head expecting Pj, but he wasn’t surprised when he was met with Dan’s doe eyes. “You ok?” the younger boy asked, “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m swell,” Phil breathed.

“We both know that’s bullshit, mate. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the nurse or something?” Dan pressed.

“It’s just another anxiety attack. It’ll be over soon.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Or breathe together? I don’t know what you like to do, but anxiety attacks suck.”

“I just need to calm down.”

“Let breath then.”

Phil was reluctant but Dan eventually convinced him it would make the edge of the attack go away, so they took a few breaths. After a few seconds, Phil’s head felt much clearer and he was suddenly aware of everyone staring at his and Dan. He blushed before shrugging Dan’s hand off his shoulder.

“You good now?” Dan asked.

“Yeah. I feel a lot better. Thanks.”

——

Phil was walking down the hall a few days later when Dan ran up to him. They’d texted briefly over the past couple of nights, but they weren’t having as many conversations as they had when they were working on the project together. Phil had gone back to sitting with Pj and Sophie which was extremely awkward at times. Overall he missed the bond they’d formed and he really regretted losing it.“Oh my god, Phil! Did you see our grade?”

“Yeah,” Phil chirped, “100%”

“I’m glad. It took me a long time to finish.”

“You definitely deserved it, Dan.”

Phil was being honest. When he’d first seen the outcome of Dan’s hard work his jaw had dropped. Every color seemed to jump off of the page and they seemed to move in a strange way. Dan had managed to capture so many of his quirks and interests that it blew his mind.

Phil thought his project had been less interesting though. His picture was grayscale with hidden shapes dotted throughout the landscape. Phil wanted to capture the hidden layers of Dan’s personality, and he had tried to portray it with the colorful shapes breaking through and symbolizing a different part of him. It seemed like a shitty metaphor, but somehow their teacher had loved it.

“You did too,” Dan replied, “I like how much thought you put into it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Of course. I just love the idea that everyone has a hidden personality and that you never know everything about someone.”

“Yeah.”

“You took Trig already. Right?”

“What’s with the sudden change of topic?”

Dan blushed, “I’m struggling a bit on the new lesson and I need some help.”

“Oh. Of course, I can help! At least I’m assuming that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah,” Dan replied, “Can we meet in the library after school? Around 3?”

“That sounds good to me.”

——

“You seem to be doing really well with this lesson. Are you sure you need help?” Phil asked.

They’d been in the library for about twenty minutes, and Dan had answered every problem right so far. It honestly wasn’t bothering Phil because he enjoyed spending time with Dan, but it was a bit strange. “Maybe I’m better than I thought?” Dan said though it came out as more of a question than anything else.

“I think you’re fine,” Phil reassured him. “I think you just need to be a bit more confident in your math skills.”

“Me? Not confident? You wish, Lester.”

Phil laughed. “Ok, maybe I choose the wrong words. But if you ever feel like you need help again I’m here for you. Unless it’s history, I’m horrible at remembering dates.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dan nodded.

They sat there in awkward silence for a few seconds. Phil didn’t want to leave Dan and risk never hanging out again. He panicked and before he knew it, he was blurting out a set of questions. “Do you want to come over to my house and play video games? Like right now? I got the new Mario Kart and I’ve been waiting to test out my skills.”

“I don’t know. I have a ton of work due tomorrow.”

“Shit I forgot about homework,” Phil groaned, “Do you want to go back to my place and keep each other company while we do it?”

“Sure. Sounds good to me.”

——

“I’m sorry it's a bit of a mess,” Phil said while he was kicking his shoes off. “My mom's been busy at work and I’ve been busy at school so we haven't been able to clean up recently.”

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a shrug, “Where are we going?”

“Up to my room,” he pointed up the staircase, “You’ll probably be able to tell which room is mine.”

Dan scampered up the stairs, and Phil followed shortly after with a sigh. He didn’t know how much longer he could spend with Dan before he broke out into a crazy story about how perfect Dan is.

When he arrived at the top of the steps he found Dan staring at his door in awe. “Did you paint this,” Dan asked.

“Ah yeah,” Phil said, “I did it a few years ago so it’s not the best piece I’ve done.”

He’d painted an array of vegetation along with his door with various small items hidden through them. A few of his favorites were the stars and eyes scattered throughout, but he really appreciated the piece as a whole. “Do you want to head in?”

“Yeah.”

As Phil walked in front of Dan, their shoulders brushed and he felt a jolt of electricity run through him. They’d touched before but none of those had felt as electrifying. He pushed open the door and flung his backpack onto the ground. “You can take the desk and I’ll take the bed?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Just let me grab my laptop real quick and I’ll get out of the way. And sorry about the mess, I wasn’t really planning on having company and that’s where I plan my paintings and stuff.”

“It’s fine. My makeup desk is a mess too,” Dan smiled.

“Well I’ll let you get to work,” Phil said before situating himself on his bed and opening his laptop.

——

Phil felt a jab against his shoulder and he rolled over with a groan. “Phil,” someone whispered.

“It’s too early for this, Mum,” he mumbled.

“You’re not telling me I sound like an old lady right now, are you, Lester?” said a voice that was definitely not his mother’s.

He opened his eyes a bit to see who it was before springing up. “Oh my god Dan, I’m so sorry, I fell asleep. I’ve just been having a stressful day and I can-“

“Calm down, Phil. I’m not mad,” Dan rolled his eyes. “I was going to let you sleep but your mom wants to know if you’re hungry. She shouted up.”

“Oh shit, I forgot she comes home early on Thursdays.”

He rushed down the stairs quickly and into the kitchen where he found his mother stirring a pot of noodles. “Sorry, Mum. I forgot what day it was.”

“That’s fine, sweetie,” she said before glancing over his shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, that’s Dan.”

“Ahh. The elusive Daniel. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she hummed to Dan.

“All good things I hope,” Dan said, easily slipping into the personality Phil saw him use around their teachers before.

“Of course dear. Are you staying for dinner?”

“Only if you’ll have me. I’m assuming my visit wasn’t run past you.”

“No,” she sighed, “But dear Philip is a bit scatterbrained so I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

“Hey,” Phil mumbled in mock offense.

“She's right you know.”

“That’s a very mean thing to say to your host.”

“Ah like falling asleep isn’t a mean thing to do to your guest. Was I really that boring, Phil?”

“No, I already told you-“

“I’m joking, Phil.”

Phil turned back to face his mother and saw a quick flicker of fondness in her eyes. “You’re sure it’s not an issue if Dan stays? I don’t want to put any pressure on you. We can go eat out.”

“He’s fine, Dear,” she laughed. “Besides I need a new person to gossip about you with.”

“What does gossiping about Phil entail? Do I get to see baby pictures?”

“Shush he’s not supposed to know about that part,” she laughed, “but yes dear I suppose that can be arranged.”

Phil blushed in embarrassment knowing that Dan would finally figure out that his hair was naturally a strange shade of orangish brown. He hadn’t been keeping it a secret on purpose. Especially since his roots took to peaking through every once in a while. “Please don’t show him,” he muttered.

“Why not?” Dan frowned.

“Philip was an adorable baby. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want anyone to see his squishy face.”

“Very funny, Mum.”

“I’m being serious,” she laughed. “Dinner is finished though. It’s nothing too fancy. Just some spaghetti.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lester.”

“Oh, dear, you can call me Kath.”

“Ok, Kath.”

——

Dinner went by smoothly and Phil was sat listening to his mother telling Dan what he was like as a baby for what seemed like ages. The worst part was when she brought out the baby books and started to show Dan his pictures.

“Your hair is naturally orangish? Why’d you dye it?” Dan asked.

“I like it better this way,” Phil responded. “Though one time I did try to dye it blonde. Let’s hope she doesn’t show you that picture though because I look like a literal highlighter.”

Dan giggled. “I’m sure you were a cute highlighter.” Phil watched Dan’s cheeks turn bright red and then he was off in another conversation with Phil’s mother.

He came up with a plan then. He would ask Dan out. He didn’t know when, but the new Avengers movie was coming out that weekend, and he knew they’d both enjoy it. He just hoped he was reading Dan’s messages right.

——

They’d ended up back in Phil’s room after some ice cream, and Dan was packing his stuff into his backpack. It was the perfect time to ask but his nerves were everywhere, and he didn’t know if he could get the words out. Dan’s voice broke him from his thoughts, “I really like your mom.”

“Yeah,” Phil replied. “She's pretty cool.”

“She wasn’t as judgemental as some of the other parents I’ve met. Most of them make assumptions and stuff.”

“I think I’ve trained her well enough not too.”

Dan laughed at that. “You can’t take the credit for her lovely personality. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“I’m pretty sure I can, Daniel. Besides, Who said she wasn’t just as naive as everyone else’s parents before I- you know- came out.”

“Yeah. She tried though. Not everyone’s parents do.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

Phil watched as Dan’s face twisted into a scowl. “My Dad wasn’t the best. He was very picky about what we could do, and he forced us into sports early on. He was concerned that we wouldn’t be manly enough because people started to accept others more. I was rebellious so I started stealing my mother’s skirts and messing around with her makeup. It made me feel like myself,” Dan said. “My parents divorced when I was just starting secondary school. My mom tried to help us move away from the idea that men had to be a certain way. I started incorporating more stereotypical feminine items into my style.”

“Your dad sounds like a shitty guy, but I’m glad you found yourself.”

“Yeah,” Dan mumbled, “He's not in our lives anymore. He has a new family and I guess that’s okay with me. I never really had him so it's not like I miss him.”

“I get what you’re saying. Look I know this is pretty shitty timing, but do you maybe want to go see the new Avengers movie with me?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot that was coming out. What day do you want to see it?”

Phil internally groaned. Dan wasn’t seeming to get that Phil was trying to ask him on a date. Sure he had bad timing but he thought the excessive nerves would clue Dan in. “Friday’s good for me.”

“That’s perfect.”

“It’s a date then.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. I’ve liked you forever, Dan.”

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Dan said punching him in the shoulder. “You had to have seen that I liked you too.”

“I didn’t really notice it until we started working on that project together. Why didn’t you ask me?”

“I thought you didn’t like me and I wasn’t going to be an annoying underclassman.”

“Oh my god we’re both so stupid,” Phil laughed.

“We really are,” Dan agreed. “I'm really excited to see where this goes.”

22 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 5 years ago

Text

Girl I had a crush on in middle school bullied and mocked me for SIX YEARS. A decade later, VENGEANCE.

TL;DR at the end!

When I was in seventh grade, I moved to a new town. My father was killed in a military accident, and my mom wanted to start fresh in a new place. We came from a small town and our new apartment was in a huge city. My mom grieved my dad for over two years, but after that got back into dating and eventually married my now-stepdad, with whom she is still happily married. He's always treated us well, and I love and respect him. They have their own daughter together, my half-sister.

I didn't adjust very well. I was active and happy in my old town, but in my new town I was depressed and a loner. I entered school in the middle of the year when all the friend groups were already formed. I missed my dad a lot so just stayed home and ate and played video games.

I got fat.

Never obese, but I was chunky and out of shape compared to how I used to be.

I liked this one girl who was in a few of my classes. I'll call her "Lindsay." Lindsay was pretty and popular and she was the first girl I really had a crush on. Being shy, I never tried to talk to her.

As time went on, I made what I thought were friends with these two boys, who I will call Allan and Joey. All of us, including Lindsay, were in the seventh grade. I didn't hang out with Allan and Joey outside of school, but they'd let me hang out with them on campus. At least I didn't have to sit alone anymore.

Allan and Joey were talking about which girls were cute, and who they had a crush on. I eventually admitted that I liked Lindsay, but told them not to tell her.

Later that day, in math class which I shared with Lindsay, a note was passed to me.

It was from Lindsay!

My heart leapt, although I was nervous: did Allan and Joey tell her I liked her?

When I opened the note, my heart fell to my feet.

I get red when I'm nervous or sad.

I was never more red than that day.

Inside the note, Lindsay had written in block capital letters:

I DON'T LIKE YOU, OP

There was a little bit of giggling in the room.

I was so embarrassed I asked the teacher if I could go to the nurse.

There was loud laughter as I left.

The nurse let me stay in her office until the end of the day, which was good since my mom couldn't leave work unless I was dying, and I wasn't allowed at that point to walk home the three quarters mile to our apartment, due to a recent spate of kidnapping stories in the news. I took the school bus home as usual.

Kids laughed at me on the bus, too.

Not two days later I get called into the principal's office and get lectured by the principal how a student complained that I was stalking her.

I of course had no idea what happened but eventually I figured out that Allan and Joey told Lindsay, and Lindsay decided to make a big production about getting me into trouble.

Soon everyone on campus started to call me the creepy stalker, the hillbilly, the White trash redneck, things like that. Lindsay got all sorts of positive attention for being brave enough to tell adults about kids who harassed her.

Thing was, I was never officially reprimanded and my mom was never actually called in to talk to any adults about what I supposedly did. The principal just told me that stalking was bad and to leave Lindsay alone. I didn't really know what more I could do to leave her alone. I never even said one thing to her or tried to send any notes to her or stare at her. All I did was tell someone I thought was a friend that I liked her, and please don't tell her.

I didn't tell my mom about it.

But after Allan and Joey's betrayal, it was back to sitting by myself.

In eighth grade I still went to the same school and it was more of the same. I was still known as the uneducated redneck creeper. Lindsay was still really popular and went out with the cool guys from our class. Allan and Joey were never in the cool kid group and I suspect that they both liked Lindsay too, and were trying to suck up to her.

On Valentine's Day, I got one of those candygrams that students send to one another that they buy from student leadership at their school during holidays. Like, two dollars will get you a card and a candy bar, and a student aide will deliver it to the intended recipient, along with a sealed message.

I at least got a candy bar out of it.

The message wasn't so nice. It said,

STOP STALKING ME, FREAK

Thanks, Lindsay.

By high school, I really hit my growth spurt and eventually grew to be 6'5." I eventually got quite skinny so I began pumping a lot of iron starting in tenth grade. I became really ripped.

Allan grew up to be a b*tchy little runt and he never messed with me again. Especially after Allan, the one who asked me who I had a crush on in seventh grade, was whispering something to someone in a class we had together in eleventh grade, and looking at me and laughing.

I said really loud, "Yo, Allan you little ****, you have something to say you say it to my face like a man, don't go whispering like a little ****."

Everyone laughed and even the teacher didn't call me out or send me to the office. I think she was sick of the little punk, too.

I didn't really care to date in high school because, even though I was big and strong now, I was still awkward around girls.

Joey actually came around, though.

In eleventh grade he approached me and apologized for how he treated me in middle school. He said that Allan was the one who told Lindsay that I liked her. He told me that Allan had a crush on Lindsay, too, and was trying to score points with her. I thanked him, and although we were never really friends after that in school, I wasn't mean to him, and he wasn't mean to me.

We were "fist bump" acquaintances.

Lindsay was still really popular in high school. Not quite as popular as in middle school, because in high school there was more "hot girl" competition. But she still held her own.

I didn't lack for attention from other girls, but more often than not the girl would tell me that Lindsay told them I was a stalker, and harassed her in middle school.

Lots of girl accused me of that in high school, especially the ones I rejected.

Eventually, since I was rejecting a lot of girls, some of whom were in the popular group (and Lindsay was still in the cool kid group at this time) people spread rumors saying I was homosexual.

I don't happen to be gay.

Nothing wrong with being gay, but the way these people were throwing it around, it was as if being gay was an insult. Really disappointing, considering this was a huge, progressive city. I might have thought such attitudes were common in my old home town, but it was surprising, here.

I'd sometimes find notes in my locker calling me [homophobic expletive]. Of course, no one, especially any guys would own up to it, because by this time I was huge, not just in height but I was also really jacked. Side note about that. I asked the custodian, a really chill dude especially if you slip him a twenty, if I could look at the surveillance videos of the halls that he had on his office computer. It actually pinpointed who was putting notes in my locker.

It wasn't Allan.

I would have loved if it was Allan because I would cave his face in.

It was actually this wannabe gangbanger who walked around in sunglasses and baggy pants and flannel shirts buttoned to the top. Looked like a total toolbag.

So I caught him in the parking lot one day with his girlfriend and said he forgot something.

Then I showed him six or seven notes that he had put in my locker.

He tried to act like he didn't know what I was talking about but I slapped him in front of his girlfriend and said next time I find a note in my locker I'm going to make you look like a weak **** in front of the whole school, not just your ****.

I never got a note from him after that.

But before he drove off like a deflated White cholo balloon, he admitted that Lindsay and her crew were behind it.

Nowadays, and especially if my kid were the victim, I'd want him or her to tell an adult, but back then I had this "snitches get stiches" mentality, and decided to just suck it up.

Right around this time, social media was really starting to take off, especially that website where you had your own personal space, and could have a "top five friend" row, could use HTLM to switch out music, and have personalized wallpaper. Looking back, I think I preferred this space of mine to that boring book of faces.

Most of my online friends were older than me and from all over the place. I liked having online friends because at least you could delete them, just like that, if you decided they suck.

Unlike high school, where people you've mentally cancelled were still on campus every day.

Joey was my online friend (still is) and he pointed me to a page he found on that website.

It was a bogus one, that had stolen pictures from my real account, and was using my whole name.

It was full of hateful, homophobic slurs and accusing me of being a stalker.

By tracing this fake profile's "friends," I could tell it had originated from the Lindsay group.

I flagged the account and it was soon taken down.

To this day, I don't get why Lindsay found it so necessary to hate me so much that she had to try to ruin my middle and high school years, just because I happened to like her a little bit in seventh grade.

Anyway, in high school, I wasn't a loner anymore. I was on the basketball team and track team and swim team, so I had friends, but I was never in the very top-tier popularity group. Lindsay was in that top group, though she was mostly one of the hangers-on of the most popular girls in school. Like, she was in that group, but was never Beyonce.

And though I had my share of fun with girls in high school (never dated, just hooked up), I could never shake the reputation that I had "stalked" Lindsay.

Well, I graduated and moved on.

I went to college for accounting, and eventually became a CPA. I still work out every day, and so I stayed in really good shape. I also continued to play sports in college, though I never had the desire (or talent, really) to make it my profession. With the help of my awesome stepdad, who's an accountant, too, we opened our own small financial service with a dozen employees.

We're doing alright!

Eventually, a man comes in, looking for a job as an accountant.

Lo and behold, it's Joey!

Haven't seen him in years. Still looks the same, maybe a little balder but otherwise pretty good. We catch up, and since he's gone to school for accounting himself and has a good resume, we hire him.

He does fine for a couple of years, and we've actually become good friends. We've put the past behind us. I went to his wedding. He went to mine. I went to his son's baptism, and he went to my daughter's.

We're friends on social media, and neither of us keep in touch with people from middle and high school.

Bygones are bygones.

And time passes.

One day Joey asks me if I got a letter in the mail inviting us to our ten year high school reunion. I tell him no, and remember that the school doesn't have any of my updated addresses, since my mom and stepdad moved a couple of times since I graduated, and anyway I don't live with them anymore. Joey is taking care of his sick mother, so his wife and child moved in with his mom in his childhood home.

He shows me the letter. Typical stuff, except hey now! Lindsay is on the reunion committee.

It has her email address and everything.

I haven't thought about her in years.

Since I'm in front of my computer, I look up her email address on Face-libro, and it leads right to her since her privacy settings are minimal.

Her current photos don't do her any favors.

She's aged badly.

It looks like she had a couple of kids and was married once, but is now a single mom, and sharing custody with her ex husband.

She gained a lot of weight and doesn't look like she used to.

Really, I wonder if it's even her. But the name matches up, and the school history matches up.

I was thinking how LOL it would be if her ex husband was Allan, but it wasn't.

Allan WAS on her friends list, though.

Clicking on him, it doesn't look like he amounted to anything. Never attended college, but that's okay if he does other productive things. But he doesn't. It seems he washed out of the army, and has worked a series of menial jobs and now lives in another state far away. Seems like he's obsessed with just smoking weed and trying to date teenagers these days.

Per Lindsay, from her updates it looks like she is big on the dating scene, but hasn't found Mr. Right, and it's frustrating her because she has "so much to offer."

Like her crushing student debt that she complains about in one post, for her super cool and useful almost-degree in fashion design, that she never quite earned because she "fell in love" and got married with some loser from high school.

Or how her children don't respect her in another post.

Or how she has several go-gimme-funds just to raise the rent on her crap studio apartment.

Or her amazing, exciting career as a junior shift supervisor at that popular coffee shop, Galacticbucks.

Holy cow.

I think life got my revenge on her, for me.

But I think this b*tch needs a little nudge.

I tell Joey no, I'm not going to the reunion, are you?

He says he will, because he wants to see if any of his favorite teachers are still around.

And he tells me, "don't you want to show off to people how successful you are now?"

LoL. We're boring accountants, not Navy SEALS or hedgefunders over here.

So, I tell him no, but if you're going, say hi to people for me.

Will do!

The reunion is still a couple of months away.

For what I'm going to do, I need my wife's permission.

After I explain how Lindsay treated me in middle and high school, about all the stalker and anti-gay stuff, my wife tells me, mid breast-feed, to destroy, with prejudice, and in detail.

Thanks, dear.

I look completely different in the face compared to high school.

Still, I don't want to use my own photos.

So, instead, I gather lots of stock photos of a particular male model.

Sorry dude, I hope you don't mind! Anyway I'm sure lots of catfish use you as their hook, Mr. Inoffensive, Conventionally Handsome Buff German Guy.

And then I make a profile on that awesome dating site, AcceptableCupid, after I learn on the Libro de Face that Lindsay is on there.

The idiot actually doxes her own username, she's that thirsty for attention.

Right when I launch my profile I get a few spam emails and desperate cat calls from lonely women.

I ignore those and go right for the kill.

I send a message to Lindsay telling her how amazing and interesting she is.

Since she's such an unattractive person in every way, I don't think there's a long line of suitors vying for her attention, and I'm right.

Within minutes, I get her reply.

We begin a message-exchange on the site, and I gradually gain her confidence, mostly by flattering her.

She doesn't tell me she's a mom, even after several days of messaging, which is odd. She implies strongly that she's a career person and artist. Haha okay, relax there, Lindsay.

Eventually I share a pic with her, and she fawns over how gorgeous I am (thanks, innocent German model!)

I am glad she can't hear me laughing when I type that she is beautiful.

As days pass, she begs me to give her permission to share my photos to her book of the face, where she is bragging about me.

I tell her that there is a time for that. Soon she can share my pic and I will share hers.

I lull her into thinking I'm respectful and want to take time in figuring out "us."

Throughout this whole time, I keep giving her opportunities to tell me she's a mom.

I get her to say that "for the right guy, I'll make my existence only about him and me. Everything else is second place."

I also get her to say that she "can't stand" kids.

This is already a long story, so I'll try to at least shorten it a little here.

Eventually, she invites me to her high school reunion.

I tell her how much I'd love to go, but that I live in another state and can't get time off from my highly paid executive job (LOL) until a date a few days after. But I promise her that we will have a date at a VERY expensive restaurant.

She's bragging all over her social media that she has a new hot guy online, and has a date with him. Of course her friends are begging her to share his pics, but she doesn't, to her credit.

She does brag about how this will teach her ex a lesson, that she can still pull the hottest dudes.

Everyone online in her friend group (I was not shocked to see that most of her friends were other losers from school, and how she never seemed to grow up) was cheerleading her, telling her how much she deserved this.

You sure do, Lindsay!

I don't tell Joey what I'm doing a few desks away from him at work. Every spare moment I have from my job, I devote to messing with Lindsay. Sending her messages about how beautiful she is, how I will take her on trips. Eventually I learn her phone number.

I hit the convenience store, let's call it "seven hundred and eleven," and buy a cheap cellphone with minutes-card. I begin texting Lindsay about how I think she's so amazing, refreshing, so real.

Just to see if she's still a hateful B-word, I tell her about how during my online dating, sometimes guys will try to chat with me. She immediately laments how [homophobic expletives] need to stay away from straights.

Okay, Lindsay, you're trash.

I text her back that I don't mind when guys message me because I have my acceptable cupid account set for "friends" in addition to romantic partners.

She immediately backpedals when she sees that gay guys don't offend me.

Whatever, Lindsay, I know what you are.

Anyway Joey goes to the reunion with his wife. His mother is ill, but well enough to watch his son for a few hours.

The high school is about twenty miles from our place of business.

Joey tells me that all the expected people were there.

He was sad to learn that one of the popular teachers had passed away, but most of the others were still working there.

He saw a lot of the former popular kids.

He texted me some of their selfies together.

Too bad Allan didn't make it. Probably still chasing a statutory charge in his new home state.

With few exceptions, most of our former classmates looked like they peaked in high school.

Sad, considering we're all still under thirty.

I didn't ask him about her or try to coach him on anything to say, but Joey told me that Lindsay, one of the officers in charge of the reunion committee, was bragging to everyone about this hot guy she was messaging online, and how she had a date with him.

According to Joey, people were marveling about how unbelievably handsome the guy was, "like a model!"

I'm glad that Lindsay was never the sharpest tool in the shed, otherwise a simple reverse image search would reveal that the photos were of a very famous European model.

Joey told me that Lindsay was bragging about how the guy online was in love with her, and how they had a date next week, and how he was a rich CEO of some mysterious, never named company.

Joey told me that a lot of the girls were encouraging Lindsay to "marry him and his money!"

Although I appreciated Joey's updates, they weren't actually necessary since Lindsay flooded her book of the face with tons of photos from that night, as did her crappy friends.

Eventually I spoke to Lindsay on the phone.

Amazing.

In middle school and high school, I never once really talked to her.

I only told one d*ckbag in seventh grade that I liked Lindsay, and after that, it was all just gossip and rumors that she started.

This was the first time I really heard her voice, and I wasn't even me, I was "Herr Deutsche Model."

She told me how "sexy" my voice was.

Really, Lindsay? Because I was pinching my nose and trying to sound different, not that she knew what I sounded like for real anyway.

I told her I couldn't wait for our date, and told her which restaurant it would be. I also told her I was staying at a certain five star hotel. I said that we could go there after dinner, which is of course polite talk for "we will f*ck on date number one."

I made sure this particular exchange was on the acceptable cupid site.

I could tell she was falling hard for me, especially the way she plastered her social media with updates on her dreamboat.

Hey, Lindsay, you've got two kids and you never post ANYTHING about them on social media.

Are you ashamed of your children?

Meanwhile she's telling the world she's going to f*ck some stranger she's never met.

Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay...

A truly trash human.

Over the following few days she never did own up to having kids, but she did admit she worked at Spacebucks Coffee as a "side thing," for fun in addition to all of the art she said she did, and having her own business. I assume she's talking about her online store at 3tsy that she brags about on the book of mugshots where she sells really crappy beaded jewelry that only drunk ravers might find appealing.

By this time she's given me her full name and I've given her my made up name.

She says that her job at LunarBucks is a total joke, her coworkers are idiots, her manager is mentally deficient, and that she often takes home pastries at the end of the night, supposedly to give to the poor (nah, Lindsay. I've seen your pics. You clearly be eating them scones personally). According to Lindsay, she's supposed to "mark out" expired pastries and dispose of them for various city code reasons.

But she goes all SJW with me and tells me that "why should all that perfectly good food go to waste? It's truly an evil company."

Yeah, whatever Lindsay, you racist, elitist homophobe.

Anyway, fast forward to our date.

The restaurant is only a couple of miles from my business, and I scheduled our date for shortly after we closed for the evening.

I scheduled everything in such a way that I wouldn't miss my wife's famous lasagna later for dinner.

I parked not far from the window, in a parking lot adjacent from the restaurant. I couldn't park at the restaurant itself, as it was an extremely expensive place that had valet parking only.

As scheduled, I see Lindsay waddle into the front door, coming out of her rideshare. I had instructed her to give her name to the host, and be seated at a specific table.

I happen to know, because she said so on the libro of the face, that she was ashamed of her beat up 2001 Chevy Cavalier.

I assume she expected her hot date to drive her home after an amazing night of what I can only assume is--with her--vomit-inducing, and malodorous love-making. I told her I would be arriving in a Maserati.

I see her sit at the table I arranged earlier. I see her playing with her phone. Probably bragging about our date to whoever.

After twenty minutes of stringing her along, I see my courrier arrive on a red Vespa, just as he told me he would. The courrier I scheduled to arrive at a certain time, twenty minutes after Lindsay's arrival. He wouldn't bring the item unless I texted the go-ahead, which I did. He texted me, "here!"

And I saw him take the bear out of his backpack.

His task was to ride to a certain gift store I never really frequented, and pick up a small, stuffed bear whose arms could surround anything from a bouquet of roses to a box of candy to an envelope with a million dollar check in it. The courrier was then supposed to bring the bear to the restaurant host. The host would then of course bring the bear to Lindsay.

The courrier handed the bear to the host. I didn't see the handoff because that part of the restaurant was out of my vision, but I did see the courrier ride away after I received a text saying "done!"

I DID see the host give the bear to Lindsay, which was the important part.

I was parked close enough to see her face as she read the note I had typed and placed inside the envelope I had the bear holding, next to a fancy chocolate bar.

I DON'T LIKE YOU, LINDSAY

Her face.

HER FACE!

OMG.

She looked like she was going to die, right there.

I received a WTF? Text from her.

I started driving home.

Text after confused text.

Twenty or more.

She never knows when to drop it.

Finally, I pull into my driveway.

Wife and daughter at home.

I hear their laughter.

The good kind.

I smell the lasagna, and my wife kisses me.

She asks me if I had a good day.

I tell her yes, most definitely!

And then, before I take the phone's battery out and break the cellphone into a hundred pieces before throwing it in the garbage, I send Lindsay one more text:

STOP STALKING ME, FREAK

The next day, I couldn't help it.

I looked at Lindsay's social media.

Set to private!

I'm wondering if her narcissistic ass knew that it was ME that played her. Especially since the mascot for our middle and high schools was a bear, that didn't look too different from the stuffed one I had given her.

I don't really care.

All I know, is that now I have closure.

Especially after I sent the screen captures of our alrighty-cupid messages (my own user name and fake photo blocked out) to CPS, where Lindsay bragged about hating kids and told me what she thought about being a mom. And said she was going to be screwing a strange man on the first day meeting him.

Maybe ex-hubby will get full custody, and give those children the attention they deserve.

Her boss at Galaxybucks was certainly interested in my recording of her calling him "a retard" and that she stole pastries that she was supposed to mark out at the end of the night and that her company was an evil corporation and that they were a "joke."

Random call to her store a few weeks later.

"Is Lindsay there?"

"Oh, she no longer works here."

Damn right she doesn't, LMAO!

Go to Hell, Lindsay.

Hey, at least you got a candy bar out of it.

Thanks for reading!

PS: A few days ago, my wife asked me whatever happened to that revenge I had planned on that mean girl from middle school. I told her I've moved on, that it was too long ago, and that I needn't be petty. She told me how much she admired me for my restraint. "If it were me, I would have cut a b*tch."

One day, I think I'll confess. Maybe one of those deathbed things. About how I kicked a loser when she was already down and laughed while doing so. Oh well.

TL;DR: Girl wrongfully accused me of stalking when we were in middle school, and bullied me in middle and high school. Years later, fat, alone, and defeated by life, time had given me revenge. Still, I felt like beating a dead horse.

(source) story by (/u/OpenFaceClubSammich)

#prorevenge #by /u/OpenFaceClubSammich #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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mz-hide · 5 years ago

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Mowing the Lawn - Chapter 1

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z AU slash fic.

Chapter 1

Summary: Mowing the lawn (in almost every sense of the term). Goku and Vegeta have a secret relationship. Turles has a cute dealer and needs someone to smoke his pot with. Raditz thinks the only thing hotter than the weather is his moms' new lawnmower boy. Ships & Pairings: Son Goku/Vegeta, Raditz & Turles, Raditz/Turles, Gine/Seripa | Fasha, Bardock/Toma, Bulma Briefs/Yamcha, Brolly/Raditz, Brolly/Turles, Daiz/Turles, Daiz/Raditz/Turles, Bardock/Turles, Bardock/Toma/Turles Contains: Gay Sex, Established Relationship, Casual Sex, Fuckbuddies, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Secret Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Alternate UniverseAlternate Universe - Human, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, seducing the pool boy, Dirty Talk, Smoking, Explicit Sexual Content, Resolved Sexual Tension, Open Relationships, Open Marriage, Age Difference, Sexual Roleplay, Friends With Benefits, Sexcapades, masturbation

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

Being well in your twenties meant that visiting your girlfriend during a martial arts retreat could no longer be considered “sneaking out.” Especially if your old, slightly pervy master was not only aware of your intentions, but had subliminally encouraged you to do so. Even so, Yamcha was feeling too nostalgic of the old times to abandon the expression. It added some thrill to the cherished -once forbidden- habit. He was in high spirits, despite not having won the tournament. Against opponents like Goku, Krillin and Tien, he would have to have been delusional to think he ever stood much of a chance in the first place. Nevertheless, he couldn’t say he wasn’t proud of himself. All of master Roshi’s students had done extremely well. His girlfriend would have poked fun at him for not having won a medal, but it mattered very little. Yamaha knew she had a very special consolation prize in store for him that night, after all. As per usual, they’d gone out to the pub to celebrate. Master Roshi had had one drink too many, so Goku and him had to walk him back to the hotel. As the walked their old master waddle his way into the hotel’s entrance, Yamaha noticed a short, sleek silhouette leaning against a tree, right in front of their hotel. He didn’t have to look twice to know who it was and neither did Goku. Yamcha had noticed the way his friend had kept looking around after the finals. The man hadn’t participated that year, and had waited until the very end to make his entrance. Just to see Goku fight. And now he was casually hanging around their hotel, with no one around. There was no doubt who he was waiting for. “Hey, Goku, I’m thinking of sneaking out tonight. Bulma’s father owns a flat here in town, he’s letting her stay there. Do you wanna come with?”, he suggested, his eyes darting to the figure leaning against a tree, right in front of their hotel, “She probably has a couple more beers and something to snack on. You can come over, keep the party going.” Bulma probably wouldn’t have had anything in against the idea. Tien had retreated to his room long before and Krillin had wondered off with his girlfriend and her twin brother. Celebrating her victory in the female tournament, no doubt. Yamcha didn’t know how to feel about leaving his friend alone with that person. Goku, the other hand, didn’t seem to share his buddy’s worry. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun, guys.” Goku could be clueless at times, but he could sense that Yamcha had looked forward to that night for a reason. His friend looked somewhat relieved to be discharged of some moral responsibility. “You sure?”, he asked again, already turning to be on his way. Goku turned down the half-hearted invitation with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be fine”, he reassured. “Have fun!” And with that, Yamcha left him, daring to sneak just one last glance over his shoulder once he was at a safe distance. Only then he saw Goku make his way to the tree. The man moved a few steps forward to meet him. The young man couldn’t help but grimace. He’d seen them fight before. It had been the most brutal face off Yamcha had ever seen in a competition. The year they’d met on the ring they’d wound up with broken ribs and dislocated shoulders. They had both been disqualified. After that, encounter, it seemed they’d trained exclusively to face off again in the next tournament. Except, Goku had put on so much mass he had to change category. So their rematch had had to wait. Every casual encounter after that had been charged with unspeakable tension. Yet, for some reason, it didn’t seem to be solely confrontation now. There was something going on between those two, Yamcha just couldn’t put his finger on it. There wasn’t much more he could do but wonder, since he never stuck around enough to find out.

“You reek.” Such was the greeting Goku had walked over to. “You think?”, he wondered, hooking a finger on his collar, sniffing. “That’s odd, I did take a shower. At least, I think so.” Coal-black eyes darted to the medal that hung on the youth’s strong chest and back up again, without a word. Goku simply smiled. He knew the man’s pride would need to leave some things unspoken. “It’s been a while, Vegeta.” The man took a step closer. They stood like that, one breath away from each other, staring. The lack of a reply didn’t bother them. Most of their conversations were spoken in silence. “There’s beer on your breath”, Vegeta observed, matter-of-factly. “Been out celebrating with the gang”, Goku explained, amiably, “Just to have a couple of drinks.” “And your friend?” “He’s off having a couple more at Bulma’s, I think.” “I could use one or two myself”, Vegeta insinuated. Goku took the money he held up between two fingers, quirking a brow, in a way that was more knowing than inquisitive. He knew what he had to deposit in the awaiting palm in return. “Get a few. I’m not drinking if I’m drinking alone”, the older man instructed, putting Goku’s room key away in his pocket. “Gladly. But it’s going to be hard walking you back to your hotel if we’re both drunk”, Goku pointed out, “Where are you staying at?” “Nowhere. I wasn’t planning to come. This was an impulse decision. I took the train this morning.” “You must be tired, the journey’s quite long”, Goku pointed out, blinking. “Not really. I slept on the train.” The younger man tilted his head, his eyes softening. His rival glowered as a precautionary measure when he saw him lean closer. “And you came all this way just to see me?”, Goku murmured. “I said nothing of the sort, fool”, the other man retorted, turning his head away. “What I said was that this was an impulse decision. That’s all.” Goku pursed his lips a bit. Then, he sighed, defeated, straightening himself up again. “Don’t come back with convenience store garbage. I don’t want cheap stuff.” “But there’s no other story nearby!”, Goku complained. “Good. Take a walk. The shower will be free by the time you get back”, the other replied, drily, as he walked past him towards the hotel. “Hey, ‘Geta?” The man turned to glare at him, irked by the nickname. “What’s in your impulse-decision-trip bag?”, Goku wondered, a sardonic, lopsided grin on his face. “None of your business, Kakarot”, Vegeta retorted, flaring up just slightly before storming into the entrance hall, with clenched fists. Suddenly, Goku was all too willing to take that walk to the nearest supermarket.

#kakavege #vegekaka #dbz yaoi #DBZ Fanfiction #dbs #dbz #my fics #Mowing the Lawn

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unmaskedagain · 6 years ago

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OTP messing with their best friends.

Okay so check this…

Me and my best friend, Sierra, grew up in this really small town, middle of nowhere, in Pennsylvania. Literally lived there all our lives. We’ve been together since forever. She’s a sister to me. Though our parents thought we end up married, right up until I came out when I was fourteen. We were basically raised together; next door neighbors, same preschool; in fact apart from that cruel time that was third grade, we pretty much always been in the same class.

It was great.

Except for one part. One boy.

Hunter.

From the time he moved to our little town, in first grade, all the way to when his family moved again, in Seventh grade, Hunter had been in every class Sierra was in. Even the middle school ones where we actually got to go to different classrooms for different subjects. Always the same classes. Granted it was a very small town with a very small school, so less coincidence and more of a lack of options. Most of the time, because their last names were next to each other in the alphabet, they always ended up assigned to sit next to each other too. And that was a problem.

The issue was Sierra and Hunter hated each other. They bullied each other. They made each others’ lives hell.

Hunter and Sierra were each others’, and the teacher to whatever class they were worst nightmares.

And Sierra being my best friend, I hated Hunter too… with a passion.

Hunter constantly complained about Sierra being in every one of his classes... Loudly.

Up until Hunter moved just before eight grade started.

We didn’t know happened to him or where he went.

Sierra did throw an epic party though to celebrate.

Skip a few years down the line,

The first-day college, in California, Sierra and I chose the same one. Our dorms were close.

Everything was perfect.

Except for Sierra and were arguing, can’t remember about what now, but it carried into our class

English if I remember right (probably not but I’m an English major, with a minor in creative writing. And Sierra wants to be a teacher so the odds are good).

We were really snapping at each other.

It got to the point where I said something like, “I wish the worst thing ever, minus ten degrees, would happen to you right now! (no explanations, it’s a just a really weird thing we say each other. Usually it ‘Hate ya’. And other would reply ‘hate ya’ eighteen degrees more. )

And suddenly we hear from the guy next to us, “Oh no. No. no. no.”

And Sierra turns to tell him off for listening to our conversation. Until she sees who its and turns a sickly a yellow color.

Because it's him.

Hunter.

In all states, in all the colleges, in all the classes, Hunter was once again sitting right next to her in class.

I swear my heart stopped beating because for a moment, after seeing who he was. (But Honestly, my first thoughts was “I wish Ryan Gosling would marry me!” No, wait “I wish an unlimited amount of dark chocolate!” No! Wait I can do better!)

Before either Sierra or Hunter could move seat class started. And Sierra gives give the worst glare she’s ever given anyone (apart from Hunter). It burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

And all through class, I thought this is it! This is how I die. They’ll never find my hot bod (if slightly too skinny). Sierra’s never gonna forgive me. I’m gonna a virgin.

After class, the storm off they storm off from each other, and Sierra doesn’t talk to me for three days.

In that time, I meet a really hot slightly older guy. A future architect. On his second year of college. We ended up meeting each other again, a few weeks later, when I went to my gay bar for the first time. (also, my first time going to a bar.)

But get this, I learned after the three days of silence, that Hunter was in most of Sierra’s classes.

It was hilarious.

Because they were supposed to be these cool responsible adults (college students) when all they wanted to do was blow raspberries at each other like they were back in second grade.

The best part was they kept running into each other outside campus.

Literally all the time, to the point where they each thought the other was stalking them.

How do I know? The hot older guy is Hunter’ older brother.

And they kept running to each other because the two of us made sure they did.

It turns out Hunter’s entire family knows just who Sierra is.

The Lex Luthor to Hunter’s Superman.

And they thought it was the funniest thing.

Sierra's’ family did too.

Everyone agreed that it was time the two grew up and learned to get along.

Now five years later, all of us have graduated from college.

Sierra and Hunter still very much hate each other, though more frienemies now.

Mostly because they were all a part of the same friend's circle.

So the end of the story, my beau just asked me to marry him. And I’m going to have to tell Sierra that I’m marrying the brother to her archenemy. She’s gonna be my best man. And…

She’s gonna sit next right to him at the wedding.

And everyone thinks it’s hilarious.

#imagine your otp #didn't really happen #short story #fandom

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oncewhenweweregods-blog · 7 years ago

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Importance of Representation

Every statement that I make is from my own experience, and my own opinions. I do not believe that everything I am about to say is true for everyone, or even that it should be true for everyone.

***

When it came to my own sexuality, I was always confused as a kid. I grew up Catholic, and I would listen to priests and parishioners speak about how wrong it is to be gay, that it is a sin, blah blah blah.

Obviously, I believed it. I was gullible like that. If someone told me something, it had to be true.

Every show or movie I watched was the same: white, straight main cast. It was normal. It was constant. Still, I would look around at my friends, the ones who definitely were not white, the ones who spoke with accents from different countries, and I would think, where are they in the things I watch?

I do not remember much from my childhood (shoutout to repression of traumatic events, whoo!), but I do remember watching my favorite television shows and movies and not recognizing the characters in all of the people I interacted with on a daily basis.

Is television a lot different now than it was, say, fifteen years ago? Absolutely, and not at all.

When I was younger, I did question why there were not any main black characters, or any main Indian characters, or why all of them seemed to come from America. But I never really dug into those question - I never actually understood why I was questioning it.

As I got older, I recognized more and more the lack of racial representation in the media. It was pointed out to be by a friend of mine who had immigrated to the United States from Haiti. She was complaining one day, rightfully, that all of her favorite American shows lacked one important detail: non-white main characters.

She told me about her niece, who was only one years old, and her fear that she would never be able to relate to the characters in a television show because these shows would not demonstrate the things she would go through. The shows she would watch as a child would not tell her about racism, or about what she would deal with - they would only narrate the lives of the white main characters.

I feel incredibly under-qualified to speak more on this, as I am white, but I do understand the importance of representation of POC, and I also understand the representation of immigrants in the media.

My family came from Portugal, from a less-than-decent life there, and sought out opportunity in America that they did not find in Portugal. They came here for a better life for the next generations of our family, and not only did they struggle to make it here, but they struggled once they got here.

They struggled to learn the language, to be taken seriously with thick, foreign accents - to get jobs with foreign names. It was not until they changed their names to their “English versions” that they were actually called for interviews.

My aunt married a man, a doctor, who once told her that he throws away applications if he cannot pronounce the name.

Where is all of this leading to?

The fact that I don’t see enough of this shit in the media.

The fact that I can’t find enough shows about immigrants, about foreign people, or even just with foreign people in the main cast.

The fact that maybe - just maybe - if my mother had watched an American show when she was seventeen and afraid that featured even just one main character that went through the same struggles as her, she would feel a little less alone.

People do not understand the importance of representation. I have complained about a television show not having enough POC, and I have been told, “there’s a black guy as the main character - how is that not enough?!”

Seriously? One main character is black, and that is somehow supposed to be enough?

How many POC do you think are in just America alone, and yet every character in a lot - if not most - shows/movies is somehow magically white? Because white people never interact and form bonds with POC and therefore they could not possible be a main character?

In response to that reply, I always think, what the actual fuck?

Of course, things are getting better. There are more POC as main characters in television shows, more shows and movies featuring people who came from other countries (has anyone watched One Day At A Time?), etc.

But until people are adding POC into shows and movies for the reasons that they should be added, and not just to “temporarily please” viewers, we will get nowhere.

Now, onto gay representation...

This is where I relate to the most. As said before, I struggled with my sexual orientation, like, A LOT.

I hated myself. I hated everyone else. I was just angry all of the time as I fought with myself over being gay, over accepting that I was gay.

I hid it from everyone until my Sophomore year of high school. What helped me accept myself and tell my mom via a game of hangman?

One of the gayest shows (in my opinion): Glee.

Before I even came out as gay, I earned myself the nickname Santana from some of my friends who had also seen the show. Was it because they viewed me as gay? No. It was because they viewed me as a bitch.

But that is probably what made it easier for me. The show did not focus on Santana as some super-butch, super out-there lesbian. They did not classify her under any stereotypes, and they certainly did not make her identity easy for her (I mean, it took her three years just to come out to her closest friend, and we all know she suffered with figuring herself out long before that).

They made her casual, and they made her angry. That was something I was definitely able to relate to (especially now, but that it an entirely different story which I will get to shortly, since apparently I am going to share every damn detail about my gayness with you).

When she came out, her grandmother turned away from her. But still, she found strength from the acceptance of her friends, and even though she still was not completely okay with everything, she moved forward.

Watching her story made me more comfortable. I saw someone like me - an angry, lost teenager refusing to accept something that she already knew was true until she was pushed by her friends.

So, I told my mom, and the rest is kind of history, although I regret coming out to my mother by playing hangman and making “Mom, I am gay” the words for her to guess.

(Three years later, though, it turned out my mom is gay, too! Holy shit!)

Anyway, my point of bringing up Glee is that I saw myself in a character. I was able to accept myself because of a gay character that was part of the main cast of a television show.

And there was so many shows and so many characters that help other people struggling with their identity. People will tell me sometimes, “I don’t see the point in adding so many gay characters everywhere - we know they exist, we don’t need to push it.”

Well, maybe “pushing it” is what kept little Jimmy from overdosing on pain pills he found when he was fourteen because he found out, from television, that there are people like him, that there are people going through the same issues as him.

(Yes, that is a true story about a friend of mine and, no, his name was not Jimmy.)

The last little bit of representation I am going to talk about here is neurodivergence.

I grew up with a severe anxiety disorder, but that is not something I am going to get into, because I would much rather get into a personality disorder - specifically, antisocial personality disorder.

I asked all of my coworkers once what they thought of when they heard the term “sociopath” (I would have used the term ‘antisocial personality disorder’, but as you will see from their response, the media has left everyone uneducated on the topic). Almost everyone replied with things like “murderers” or “psychos”, except for one of my managers who majored in psychology and actually understood the disorder.

Something I do not discuss often is my issue with lack of empathy and a seemingly “inability” to connect with or care about most people. I do not experience empathy. I experience sympathy only when around the few people I actually care about.

I was “unofficially” diagnosed with ASPD (professionally, but “unofficially” as in it was one session, I was classified as a non-threat, and I was told that I did not have to pursue therapy as treatment because I was fine with my diagnosis, and therefore I did not see that psychiatrist again). How this psychiatrist was able to “diagnose” me in one session, I am not sure (well, I may be, but that is not something I am going to get into).

Anyway, that short-lived therapy session was about two years ago.

What did I think after it?

Holy shit, I am going to end up killing someone. I am a fucking psychopath.

Was I actually going to kill someone? No, what the fuck? Was I a psychopath? By definition, no.

But I was afraid of what I believed I would “turn into” because of everything I had seen in the media. I was led to believe that because I was being grouped in with people who were diagnosed with ASPD, I would grow up (even though, technically, I was already “grown up” - but let’s be real, eighteen is not grown up to most people) to be some horrible serial killer, even though I had never even thought of killing someone.

(Also, fun fact: loving animals and being empathetic towards animals apparently does not “count” according to the psychiatrist I saw.)

ANYWAY, fast forward to about six months later. My dad and I are talking and he mentions some show called Person of Interest. I look it up, read the description, and think, Sounds gay, no thanks.

Fast forward two more months. I am on Tumblr and find a list of shows with gay main protagonists. I see Person of Interest listed, with the character name Sameen Shaw.

Being the gay asshole I am, I put the show on Netflix, but only started on the first episode that Shaw makes her appearance.

Axis II personality disorder? Am I watching what I think I am watching? A character with a personality disorder that is otherwise labelled as violent?

Okay, so maybe Root and Shaw are incredibly violent during the show, but I am ignoring that part while I write this.

They both, like me, suffer from issues with empathy. Of course, Shaw is a bit “higher” on the spectrum, a bit more “broken” if that is how you want to word it, but the fact of the matter? They both lack empathy one way or another.

And yet, they are the heroes. They are the ones that save lives. They are not the enemy, they use violence because it is necessary (for Root, let’s assume we are talking about when she starts actually working with the team, not when she was an assassin).

The show never gives them “redemption” from their personality disorders. The writers do not have some character arc where Shaw seeks forgiveness for having ASPD, where she thinks that she is completely broken from it, and that she needs to be fixed, and Root even says it.

The show gave me something that made me feel safer about myself, that made me realize the stigma surrounding people with ASPD is mostly wrong, and there are so many other disorders (anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, just to name a few) that deserve this kind of beautiful representation, because people with these disorders DESERVE to see main characters that they can relate to, that they can find strength from.

Representation is not something that show creators/writers should consider a “gift” to their viewers.

Representation should not even be representation at all. It should just be.

Because the real people are POC, LGBT+, and neurodivergent.

Shows are not meant to be real, obviously, but the characters should be. The characters should reflect the people that watch them.

Representation is important because it gives the viewers someone to relate to, because it makes the characters real.

I feel as though this goes without saying, but this is obviously the same for all types of media - novels, comic books, movies, etc.

And this is why I will make damn sure that whenever I write, I will include characters that people can find themselves in, because I have experienced firsthand just how important that is.

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gorlkpop · 7 years ago

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Good Love {2jae} Chapter Four

genre: fluff, slight angst, future smut

warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics (including self-lubrication, heats, ruts, marking, mating, knotting, pack dynamics), boyxboy

pairings: im jaebum x choi youngjae, other pairings

In Youngjae’s eyes, Jaebum was the perfect alpha- handsome, protective, grounded, and took care of his small pack very well. But too bad Jaebum doesn’t think he’s the perfect omega- or any omega, for that matter

or, the one where jaebum thinks a mate will just be a distraction rather than a blessing

**three**four**five**

An important thing to note is that in this AU, sexuality (gay, straight, bi, etc.) doesn’t really exist. People are just attracted to whoever and no one is really that picky if it’s a female or male. It’s more based off compatibility- which will be explained more as the story goes on. (:

This was definitely a date.

Jaebum sat across from Youngjae, looking at the menu that was placed in front of him. They were seated outside, sun beaming, a very light breeze going, and a Youngjae that was glowing.

They didn’t have complete closure on whatever their situation was, but they were getting somewhere- and that’s all Youngjae needed. He didn’t want to seem like a brat and talk about what needed to be talked about as soon as they sat down. Youngjae was still trying to figure Jaebum out, and he didn’t want to poke and prod if it obviously wasn’t welcome.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” Youngjae asked. They had already gotten their drinks.

“I always get the pad thai. Bambam says he can make it but all his attempts have been absolute fails.” Youngjae let out a small, bright laugh. It probably wasn’t that funny, but Youngjae didn’t care. He was enjoying his time with Jaebum.

Youngjae looked over the menu once more. He didn’t venture a lot with foods, unless Mark recommended it and had liked it. He didn’t see anything that caught his eye. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. I don’t eat out a lot.”

“Really?”

“Really,” The omega shrugged. “Mark-hyung usually cooks things he ate in America. I only know a few things my mom taught me when I was younger.”

“I can’t cook at all.”

“Who cooks in your pack then? I know Jackson-hyung, for sure, doesn’t.”

Jaebum smiled. “I wish he would. Jinyoung will cook and then he’ll complain about how we should’ve had Chinese food. But I think he forgets he’s in a house full of Koreans who grew up Korean, eating Korean food and all.”

“Sounds like Mark whenever he asks me to cook.”

“Hello. Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress greeted.

“We’ll have the number four. And also two spring rolls.”

“No problem,” the young female alpha smiled, writing down the last bit of their order. “Anything else?” She angled towards Youngjae.

Before Youngjae could answer, Jaebum corrected her. “No, we’re together.” Youngjae whipped his eyes towards Jaebum. Together?

“Oh! I’m sorry,” the girl became flustered very quickly. “I thought you might’ve been waiting on somebody with yo-“ she stopped herself. Lani, her name tag read, was frozen staring at Youngjae. She shook her head then resumed, picking up their menus. “I’m sorry. I’ll put your order in right away.”

She hurried off before Youngjae could have the chance to ask her what was wrong.

“What was that about?”

“I have no idea.”

And that was the last of that.

The pair continued their lunch, having good conversation. It was pleasant, and Youngjae was sure this was a date. The day felt perfect, almost too perfect. But Youngjae wouldn’t complain. He loved every moment.

When Lani returned with their food, she kept her head down. She only looked up when Jaebum asked for extra peanut sauce. The alpha female dashed back to the kitchen, quickly set down the peanut sauce, and made her way to leave but froze. Her hands were clenching her black apron, fidgeting, eyes moving back and forth between Youngjae and the floor. Jaebum made no move to acknowledge her. He was simply mixing his pad thai, oblivious to the world around him. But Youngjae noticed and he was starting to freak the fuck out from the waitress’ behavior.

Youngjae kept looking at her as she stood there. It was odd and eerie. It started to get cold, her stare. It was as if she was the one that was fearful of Youngjae, her eyes lightly glazed over.

She leaned down, after her and Youngjae held eye contact for a long second. “You smell like you’re going into heat… and of a beta.” She glanced at Jaebum, who was now staring at them, mid-bite of a spring roll. “Not that alpha.” She finished.

Lani looked Youngjae in the eyes, saying something that Youngjae didn’t get the chance to decipher before she turned to leave.

With her warning, Youngjae started to become a little panicked. The last thing he wanted was start his heat today; not when he and Jaebum were having such a good date. The omega sniffed the air, not getting any whiff of his own peachy scent. He didn’t feel like his temperature was rising. But, he started to think about the past couple of days, if his own behavior was signaling a heat.

Okay, maybe his heat could be near. He was being more irritable and moody lately, not being able to decide how he felt about things. The omega also started to fill out a bit more around his hips, thigh, and stomach. He also was a lot more clingy to Mark whenever they were home- which is probably why Lani had smelled beta on him. But Youngjae wouldn’t worry about his heat starting today.

He, at least, hoped he had a day or two until it started.

“You okay?” Jaebum looked at Youngjae up and down, concern written all over his face.

“Uhm…” Youngjae didn’t know if he should be honest or not. “She said that I smelled like I was going into heat…” He left out that Lani hinted that he smelled like a beta. Youngjae didn’t know how teritorial Jaebum was or if he was territorial at all.

Jaebum took a good sniff of the air, out of curiosity. “I don’t smell anything. I’m not that credible, though. I’ve never been good at scenting things like that.”

“Why?”

Jaebum hesitated. “I don’t know. I just haven’t been able to, in the past.”

Youngjae didn’t question him anymore.

After finishing their lunch, they both unspokenly felt like the day was going to well for it to just end after the meal. So, they made their way to an elementary school not to far from where they ate. The playground wasn’t extremely big, but it was just the perfect size for the pair to use without getting in the way of the few pups playing there.

They played around like children- just enjoying each others company. There wasn’t a moment that wasn’t filled with either laughter or some interesting conversation that an outsider would find irrelevant.

Those conversations were anything but irrelevant to Youngjae. They talked about everything. School, interest, hobbies, Jaebum’s pack, bits and pieces about their childhoods. And everything was going so smooth and right and Youngjae was happy. Youngjae was trying his hardest not to let his giddy feelings inside influence him to act a fool in front of Jaebum. That was the last thing he needed.

“Sometimes I worry about Jackson.” They were now swinging on the swings, confiding in each other on simple issues.

Nothing tragic.

“What’s wrong with Jackson?”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him. He just…” Jaebum had to word his next phrase carefully. He didn’t want Youngjae to get the wrong idea about the other alpha. “He’s very ‘helpful’, for a lack of better words.”

“How could that be something to worry about?” The omega kicked at some pebbles, slightly losing his balance.

“If I tell you, please don’t take it the wrong way.”

“I won’t. He and Mark are close.” Youngjae was so innocent and sweet and unaware- and Jaebum’s heart was beating, for no particular reason other than he was happy being around the omega.

“I know; but Jackson likes to, uhm, get around, I guess,” Jaebum grabbed Youngjae’s swing to stop him from moving, the revelation becoming more real once he said it out loud. Jaebum really didn’t want Youngjae to think ill of Jackson- the alpha was a good person and he be damned if someone thought otherwise. He gave off a tense vibe, and Youngjae was not expecting it. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. It’s not that I’m talking shit about him… I just don’t want to contribute the shit he already gets and I trust you enough to believe you wouldn’t do that.”

Youngjae only nodded. He and Jaebum were only centimeters apart and something about was too much for Youngjae. Yeah, this might be exactly where he wanted to be for the last few years; but this was sudden and he was so not ready. It wasn’t even that deep, but, fuck, Jaebum smelled so good and looked even better and Youngjae could just kiss him.

But he didn’t- of course, he didn’t.

Jaebum let his swing go, the air around them suddenly becoming casual and light hearted again.

“Omegas like to ask him to help them through their heats and that Chinese sweetheart doesn’t know how to say ‘no’.” The alpha was looking up at the sky. Youngjae wished he could see his eyes.

“And, of course, he knows these people, but that doesn’t make it any less risky.” The older continued. “I mean omegas are the most fertile in heat and even if you use protection, it’s never one hundred percent.”

“Is that why you worry? You think he may find himself in a situation he isn’t prepared for?”

“Yes. And with someone that he doesn’t even know.” It was obvious Jaebum meant “with someone who isn’t his mate”.

With this information, Youngjae was at a crossroads. He’s met Jackson only a handful of times- usually when he was leaving his and Mark’s apartment or picking Mark up- but from what he could tell, the alpha was an absolute bundle of happy energy. And Mark seemed to really like the alpha. He usually switched out people to help him through his pseudo-heats, but when he met Jackson a year ago, he’s kept him around since.

It was obvious that Mark didn’t keep him near for just his pseudo-heats.

But, now, Youngjae knew a whole other part of Jackson that made him question the alpha. Did Mark know? If he did, was he okay with it? If he didn’t, how would he feel about it? How often did Jackson really help omegas and betas? Why did Jackson feel compelled to always say ‘yes’? Why, why, why?

“How long?”

“Since he moved to Korea- which was right before he started at our school. He was an easy target because the dumbass literally didn’t know how to say ‘no’ formally in Korean. And, again, that Chinese sweetheart didn’t want to be rude and just said ‘yes’.” Jaebum sighed, a laugh hidden behind it.

Youngjae laughed. It felt nice in such a dense moment. “And that was the beginning of the end?”

“Basically.”

“It’s kinda sweet in a way.” Jaebum looked over at the omega like he was crazy. “What?”

Jaebum smirked. “Are you taking joy in my pack mates misfortune? How sinister.”

Youngjae pushed Jaebum slightly, jokingly. “Oh my goodness,” The omega playfully hit Jaebum on his shoulder. “I just meant that he’s coming from a good place- it’s a sweet intent but the execution is definently not all that sweet.”

“You’re sweet.” Jaebum whispered to himself. It had just slipped out and hoped, goddess he prayed, Youngjae hadn’t heard it. That would make things awkward- at least for Jaebum.

But Youngjae had heard it. All he did was blush and look down at his worn down vans.

After what Youngjae was one thousand percent convinced was a date, the alpha that took him on said date walked home back to his car. The walk wasn’t long from the park. It was perfect (like everything else that day), giving enough time for the pair to have a nice conversation together, still. They seemed to never run out of something to talk about.

Jaebum’s little comment was not talked about, though.

When they had arrived at Youngjae’s car, they still continued to talk about any and everything. And at some point, they made their way in top of the cars hood.

Why are they so corny? Youngjae, of course, wasn't complaining.

“I’ve been wondering,” Youngjae began, breaking the silence that fell over them. “What was your mother-pack like?”

Jaebum sucked his teeth. “Average. Nothing special really.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly. I was probably the wildest thing to happen to that pack in a while. Everyone was pretty square.” Jaebum shrugged.

Youngjae looked over at him. Damn, he looks so pretty. “How… why were you the wildest thing to happen?”

“Because I’m a fucking dud?” The alpha had a ‘duh’ tone in his voice.

“Oh my goddess, hyung,” the younger sighed. He didn’t believe for a second that Jaebum was an actual dud. He had a rut, he (Youngjae could only assume) popped knots, so why would Jaebum call himself a dud? “I wish you wouldn’t think so low about yourself.”

“Uh huh, I know.”

“Sure you do.” Youngjae’s phone started to vibrate. He groaned, reluctantly pulling it out of his back pocket. Mark was calling him.

He stared at the screen, debating whether he should answer it or not. Wouldn’t it be rude to answer the phone when Jaebum was right there to talk to? Youngjae went to send Mark to voicemail, but Jaebum stopped him. “Aren’t you gonna answer him?”

The brunette turned towards Jaebum. He shrugged in response. His phone was still ringing.

“Answer him. He’s probably worried.”

Youngjae sighed. The omega answered the call.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?” Mark sounded slightly out of breath.

Youngjae glanced over at Jaebum. He was looking up at the sunset, yawning. Maybe they should go home soon. “I’m still out with Jaebum. Why?”

“Oh, really?” Mark had a teasing tone. Youngjae could feel his ear go slightly red at the hidden implications.

“Yes, really.” Jaebum was looking at him now, a grin on his face. Youngjae grinned back, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

“No, no, no- you crazy kids can stay out as long as you want. I was just making sure you were okay. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“Yes, I know. Will you be home in the next hour?”

“I don’t know. Probably, but I’ll text you if I leave. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Stay safe.”

“I will, hyung. Bye.”

Youngjae stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He let out a deep sigh, rolling his head back towards Jaebum. He still had a grin on his face. “What?”

“Does he do that often? Just randomly check up on you?” Jaebum asked.

Youngjae furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course. Don’t you do that for your pack?”

Jaebum looked at his hands, fidgeting. “I guess not as much as I could.” Jaebum started to suddenly feel insecure. He knew he wasn’t the best alpha and little things like that easily got into his head. Mark and Youngjae weren’t even a pack, but Mark to care of the omega like Jaebum was supposed to take care of his pack.

“Mark-hyung is a little overprotective, so don’t compare yourself,” Youngjae seemingly read the alphas thoughts. He shifted onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “He’s always been that way. Especially when we got to college.”

Jaebum took this opportunity to sway the subject to something else besides him. “He wasn’t like that when you guys were in high school?”

The omega shrugged. “He had no reason. Our school didn’t have a lot of… ‘misbehaving alphas’.”

“And our school does?”

“Yes. More alphas means more chances of some of them being, you know, not all that good.”

“You’re right.” Jaebum’s phone was the one ringing now. He pulled it out. Yugyeom’s name flashing across the screen. “Yes, Yugyeom-ah.”

“You need to come back home… now.”

Jaebum glanced at Youngjae this time. Yugyeom was slightly yelling so Jaebum knew he heard him.

“It’s Yugyeom.”

“The youngest one, right? Beta?” Youngjae asked. Jaebum nodded. “He needs you?”

Jaebum nodded again. “Jaebum-hyung!” Yugyeom whines loudly from where Jaebum’s phone was pressed against his chest.

Youngjae smiled at the betas demanding whine. “He really is like a child,” Youngjae joked. “It is getting late. We’ve had a good day.”

“Yeah we have.” It’s been more than “good”, Jaebum wanted to say. He refrained- his mouth had done enough for the day.

“Yugyeom, shut your mouth. I’ll be home in a little bit. Where’s Jinyoung?” Jaebum was getting irritated by the vibrations against his chest. The beta was a pain, but Jaebum wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Not here. But Jackson-hyung is and so is Bambam and no one is letting me into their room. I’m basically homeless.”

Jaebum understood exactly what Yugyeom was going on about. “Okay. I’ll be there in thirty. Stay calm.” Jaebum ended the call before he had to hear anymore of Yugyeom's complaining.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Pack problems.” Jaebum sighed, sitting up. He really didn’t want to leave. This day was the best day he’s had in a long time. And it wasn’t even about what they had done, but who he did it with. Jaebum loved how he spent his day today and he didn’t want it to end.

A bizarre feeling for Jaebum.

Youngjae hoped off the hood of his car, Jaebum following. “It’s okay. I had a nice time today.”

“Me too.” And then it was silent.

Youngjae looked at the ground. Jaebum wanted to hug him, but that’d be too much. Too early, but mostly too much. So he settled for a “goodbye, see you later” then went on his way to his own car.

And as he drove, the need to go back and actually hug the omega clouded his mind. At the same time, he couldn’t understand why.

“Get me into that room, hyung. I am tired of having someone get my clothes and having to sleep on the couch. I need to be able to plan my outfits and sleep properly.”

“Yugyeom. Sit down.” The beta was pacing back and forth in front of Jaebum, who was sitting on the couch. Yugyeom had just finished ranting. Don’t ask Jaebum what about because he sure as hell wasn't listening. It wasn’t like it was anything the beat had went on about before.

Yugyeom stomped. “There’s something going on and no one will tell me. I’m an adult. Tell me what is wrong with Bambam.”

The alpha sucked his teeth. “Yugyeom-ah…”

“Hyung. Tell me. Please.”

It went against Jaebum’s better judgement. He didn’t have a real, personal reason for why he wasn’t telling the beta. But, then he realized why. It wasn’t his problem to tell. He hadn’t seen Bambam in the last week because the omega was keeping to himself. He checked in with him periodically, of course, but that didn’t mean he really did anything for the omega. Bambam’s slick scent was still pungent in his room and the alpha couldn’t think all that straight in the room, nor stand to be in there too long. It was almost suffocating. Besides, Jinyoung was better at this type of stuff.

“I’ll be right back.” Jaebum stood up. He started to walk towards the hallway, but Yugyeom whined in protest. “Hyung!”

“Just a second, beta.”

He walked to Bambam and Yugyeom’s shared room. He knocked three times, getting no response. “Bambam?”

“Alpha?” Bambam didn't sound like himself. He hadn’t in the past month. His voice was empty, small, and scratchy. Maybe even pitiful.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bambam’s pine scent was strong and potent when Jaebum opened the door. It was dark, the blinds closed, all lights off. The room wasn’t messy, but it was disorganized. Bambam was bundled up in blankets, facing the wall his bed was pushed against.

Jaebum closed the door, gently. It was still suffocating how much Bambam’s scent permeated the room. It was so powerful Jaebum was close to gagging. Not only was the pine scent strong, but so was the feeling of sadness. Bambam was radiating depression. That affected the alpha just as much as the pine scent in the air.

The alpha made way to the edge of Bambam’s bed. He sat down, laying a hand on Bambam’s resting figure. The omega huffed, shifting at the alpha's touch. He turned enough to glance back at the alpha. His face was straight. If Jaebum didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Bambam was completely fine. But he did know better.

“Yugyeom misses you,” Jaebum started. Bambam stayed silent, turning back towards the wall. “Why don’t you want to come out, Bambam? It’s been a month.”

That means his heat is coming soon again, Jaebum remembered.

Bambam said something but it was muffled by the comforter his head was stuffed in. “I can’t hear you, Bam.”

The omega flipped all the way over, giving Jaebum the full view of his appearance. Bambam’s hair was a mess, dried tears covered his face- which was red and swollen. Jaebum could feel Bambam’s hurt. He wished he could just hug all of the youngers embarrassment away; but when Bambam falls, he falls hard.

“I want to, alpha. But it’s hard. None of you have seen me like that but you did and it was ugly. I was ugly.” Bambam’s face scrunched up a little bit. Jaebum placed a hand on his knee. Jaebum could sit here and tell Bambam about the past, tell him to get over it. But the alpha wasn’t that insensitive.

“You know you’re heat is probably due in a couple days, right?”

“And?”

“What are you going to do then? Are you going to still just stay in your room even after it ends?” Jaebum angled more towards Bambam. “You- We have to get through this together. Your heat is your heat and it’ll change you every time and we know this. I can’t make you come out your room, but I can tell you that we all miss you. Especially your favorite beta,” Bambam sniffled. “I know it’s straining you just as much as it is the rest of the pack. We need you, Bambam. I begging you to come back- even if you may not be how you were before, you’ll still be you and that’s all we need. Please, Bambam.” Jaebum had brought Bambam into a hug hesitantly. The omega accepted, gripping his alpha with all his might, letting a few tears out.

Bambam let out a deep breath, whispering an “Okay”, and turned back towards the wall. Jaebum bit his lip. He really didn’t want to leave the omega alone- but he did anyways. There’s nothing he could do that he hasn’t done already to encourage and support the young omega. It was all a waiting game now. Jaebum didn’t beg often, but he really missed his omega and wanted him to be happy again. He’d always be there for him. Always.

Much to the packs pleasure, Bambam finished his next heat and, this time, returned to life. Jinyoung and Jaebum were of course the only ones who weren’t surprised to see the omega. Jackson had wanted to smother the younger with welcome back hugs and kisses, but he was polite enough to see that someone else in the pack needed to spend some time with Bambam.

Bambam had just waltzed into the living room, as if he hadn’t been MIA the past month, and lied down right on top of the large sleeping beta. Yugyeom brushes it off, telling them to leave him alone. But when he heard a familiar Thai accent whisper into his ear “but I’m comfortable”, he was wide awake.

“Kunpimook Bhuwakul!” Yugyeom was the only Korean Bambam who could say his name with no struggle; and the only person besides his mom to say it so smoothly in distress.

The youngest wasted no time cuddling and scenting the omega. The omega had a slightly different scent (because now he wasn’t on suppressants so his scent was more wholesome- but Yugyeom didn’t know that), but it was comforting and familiar enough for Yugyeom. He was just so happy to be with his best friend, his brother-from-another-mother.

And that’s how they’ve been for the past hour. Yugyeom sniffing at Bambam’s neck, getting used to his new, fresher scent, cuddling, and smiling.

They both were just bundled up in a blanket, watching old reruns of dramas, Jackson on the floor solving a puzzle. He was an old man at heart- but it was endearing. Jinyoung and Jaebum had gone to work, so it was just the three of them.

Yugyeom hadn’t asked about where Bambam had been or what had happened. It kind of concerned Bambam because he was expecting the beta to ask a million and one questions. But he wouldn’t make it weird or awkward by being the first one to bring it up- but he wouldn’t avoid it if Yugyeom asked. The beta deserved that much.

“Why’d you leave?” Yugyeom said out of nowhere.

Bambam looked up at the beta wide eyed.”What? I didn’t leave?”

Yugyeom shifted a bit. “You just disappeared and I didn’t know what was happening, so, yea, it felt like you just left.” Bambam couldn’t argue with that.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say...” Bambam was definitely thrown off and, yes, he told himself he wouldn’t avoid Yugyeom’s questions, but damn he was not expecting nor prepared for the actual thing.

Yugyeom stayed silent. After a moment or so, right as the omega opened his mouth to speak, the beta separated from Bambam and walked towards the kitchen, leaving behind a bitter scent. The omega cowered a little bit- he didn’t like that Yugyeom was upset with him.

“That was uncomfortable.” Jackson piped up. His attention was on the scene that just unfolded the whole time.

“I thought everything would be good when I came back. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?”

“You and I both know it’s more complex than that, Bam.” The omega didn’t give a response. He was trying. He really was.

“I panicked and, I don’t know… it just…” Bambam could feel his emotions spinning and he was getting frustrated. Jackson saw this and was on his feet, walking towards the younger. “...hyung.” Bambam whimpered as he caved in on himself. Jackson just sat on the couch and pulled Bambam into his lap, cuddling him and rubbing his back.

Jackson hushed him as the omega started to quietly sob. “It shouldn’t be this hard but it is a-a-and…” Bambam tried to continue but he choked up and was shushed again by Jackson. It really shouldn’t have been that hard. Why was it so difficult? It was just his heat and Yugyeom barely was there when it hit him and Yugyeom would never judge him so why was it so hard? Bambam knew it looked so over dramatic and unreasonable how he was sobbing and clinging to Jackson like this over a small problem- which was completely his fault- but he couldn’t help it.

Everything was just so hard.

Two weeks had gone by since The Date and the two stars of said date we’re getting along great. All past conflict seemed to dissipate.

Jaebum and Youngjae were friends. That’s all Youngjae could ever ask for. They talked normally at work, texted back and forth whenever, and, surprising for Jaebum, actually talked often on the phone. It was good. Youngjae felt on top of the world- the alpha of his dreams knew he existed and was at least the slightly bit untreated in him? What fucking dream come true.

It was a Wednesday night, both boys were working overtime cleaning the cafes’ various equipment. It was maybe around half past nine, all the other employees left. Mark was the only one there, but that was only because he was waiting on Youngjae so they could drive home together.

“Do you want me to get us dinner?” Mark had asked from a table across from the register, where Youngjae was cleaning. Jaebum was next to him cleaning out the display.

“Sure,” Youngjae turned towards Jaebum. “Do you want anything, hyung?”

“No, I should be fine.” Youngjae would’ve complained that Jaebum hadn’t eaten in the past couple hours, but he bit his tongue.

He looked back at Mark. “You know what I like and don’t like. Nothing spicy today, though.”

“Alright. Be back in twenty.” Mark exited through the back to the employee parking lot.

And then there were two.

It wasn’t awkward at all. They easily made small talk, but the light conversation still had substance- which was very common whenever they spoke to each other. Youngjae loved these little random talks they would have. It was all mostly trivial but it was just their thing.

Jaebum always surprised himself whenever he talked to Youngjae. He didn’t like to venture out into the friendship world a lot. He didn’t have commitment issues or was a loner or was mad at the world but he just had his people, his circle which he kept small. But Youngjae had him stuck. He made friends in his classes and stuff: Sure. But never has he talked and actually wanted to so much with one person.

Again, it was bizarre and Jaebum was confused.

“I want to meet the rest of your pack.” Youngjae said. Jaebum had a million thoughts racing through his mind when the omega had said that.

Sure, Youngjae already knew his pack. He went to highschool with Jinyoung, had English with Bambam, knew Jackson through Mark; but this was different. Youngjae knew this was different. What would Jaebum introduce Youngjae as? Why would he be introducing him anyways? His pack may not have be blood, but they were pack bonded and that almost made it more stressful. And, in it’s own way, Jaebum formally introducing the omega to the pack felt like a commitment- one he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with.

“Don’t you already know them?” Jaebum was turned away from Youngjae, so the omega didn't see the alpha scrunch up his face at this discussion.

“Well, technically, yes. But you always talk about them. It’s only right that I finally meet them as your pack members.”

It made perfect sense. Jaebum knew Youngjae was coming from the most innocent and caring place, but this whole friendship thing was still new to him. “Maybe one of these days…” Jaebum said the first thing that came to mind that didn’t sound rude.

Youngjae smiled and nodded. Now it felt awkward. Jaebum didn’t sound very reassuring when he replied and Youngjae easily picked that out. He didn’t realize at first that it could’ve sounded a little more than platonic. He didn’t want to ruin the little bit of connection he had with Jaebum- especially with how their first initial meeting played out. And, yea, they might’ve gone in what Youngjae would call a date, but he wouldn’t expect Jaebum to suddenly conjure up romantic feelings for him; and Youngjae was trying his damndest to keep his at bay.

“I didn’t mean to be intrusive. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He corrected himself.

“No, you’re fine.” Jaebum waved him off.

Youngjae wasn’t fine.

The omega just let out a sigh before continuing wiping down the cabinets. He felt a vibration in his apron, his phone ringing. When he pulled it out, his English teachers name was on the screen. Youngjae excused himself and went to the staff room to answer the call.

“Mr Finley, how are you?” Youngjae greeted, in english.

“I’m doing well, Youngjae,” Mr Finley was a French man whose accent really only came through when he spoke English, but rarely when he spoke Korean. “I was calling because the English department has been offered an amazing opportunity.”

“Really?” He replied in Korean. “I mean, really?” He corrected himself in English.

“Yes. You know how we visited that one sister school in Nevada early last year?”

“United States, Nevada?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“I remember.”

“Great! The reason I bring that up is our school has paired with another school- this time in California and they want us to come and visit and present the program to their school board!” Mr Finley was clapping and laughing, like this was the greatest thing to ever have happened. Mr Finley was always a breath of fresh air.

Youngjae grinned at his professors excitement. “That’s great! Is there something else?” Youngjae was hoping he’d say that the omega got to go to America again this year.

“Oh, of course. You, Youngjae, are, obviously, one of the students I picked to accompany me on this trip.” His professor let out a little squeal for Youngjae. Mr Finley was always cheerful and it sometimes freaked Youngjae a little. But it was Mr Finley’s character.

“Thank you, professor. I appreciate it a lot. When is the trip?”

“In about two weeks. I know it’s short notice but the American school just called yesterday, so we’re all in panic. Do you think you could make it?”

Youngjae believed he could. The only possible barrier he saw was if his historically unpredictable heat decided to oh so conveniently showed up then. He prayed it didn’t, but it’s been almost three months since his last and his symptoms were only getting worse. Youngjae hoped it was a sign that his heat was on the verge of breaking, preferably before the trip. “I would like to think so. Can I call you back Friday to confirm if I can or not?”

“Of course. I hope you can make it.”

“Me, too.”

“Have a good rest of your evening, Youngjae.”

“You, too, Mr Finley. Good night.”

Clinics were the absolute worse. They had this sad emotion connected with them. Just the knowledge this is where newly presented omegas get their suppressants, omegas lose their pups (willingly and not), and other sad stuff Youngjae hated to think about.

It was the next day and Youngjae made an appointment with the college clinic to have a check up. Mostly because he needed to know if his heat was as near as he felt it was. His heats were never consistent. Sometimes they’d appear two weeks within each other and other times they’d be separated by months. It was a blessing and a curse, all at the same time.

The omegas knee was bouncing rapidly, his hands scrunched up, gripping the hem of his gray t-shirt. He wasn’t actually nervous for any real reason- Youngjae just didn’t like clinics.

“Choi Youngjae.” A nurse called his name. He stood up and greeted her. She led him back to sterile room, telling him to sit on the cot. Youngjae found extremely odd that he couldn’t scent what caste the female nurse was.

The nurse examined his chart, silently. The silence was slowly getting to Youngjae after a few moments, but luckily she began to speak. “You have irregular heats?”

“Yes. That’s actually what I came in for today. I just wanted to know if it’s near. And how close it is, if you can. It’s been three months since my last one” The nurse only nodded in reply.

“I’ll go get the ultrasound ready.” She walked out. A few minutes passed by before the nurse was back inside the room and escorting Youngjae to another. The room the nurse took him to was very similar to the one he was in, just a bit more larger and dimmed- the only light coming from the large computer screen.

The nurse ordered Youngjae to lay back on the cot, lift his shirt and unbutton his jeans. He did so, quickly. He just wanted to hurry up with this appointment and get the hell out of the clinic. Youngjae felt weak in a way being inside the building.

A lukewarm jelly was squeezed onto his abdomen, then spread out by the wand the nurse was holding. As the wand moved lower towards where Youngjae’s uterus would be, he shivered slightly. He was starting to feel cold, his nerves not resting. Youngjae was almost tempted to just ask the nurse for some sedatives.

After some pictures were taken from the ultrasound, the nurse wiped Youngjae’s stomach down. He sat up and buttoned his pants back up, stretching his arms and neck. He was tense through the whole ten minutes the nurse was examining his stomach.

“Well, Youngjae-ssi,” The nurse began, eyes looking back and forth between her clipboard and the pictures on the screen. “I’d say that your heat is ready to break at any moment. I would advise making heat preparations for the next week- that’s the time it seems it should be breaking. Any other questions or concerns?”

Youngjae shook his head. “That was all I was curious about. Thank you.”

When Youngjae hoped into the passengers side of the car, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He ran his hands through his hair, steadying his breath and heartbeat. Mark was just looking up at him, eyebrows raised in question. “How’d it go? Bad news?”

“No- great news, actually. She said my heat should be breaking within the next week.”

Mark smirked. “Like I predicted. I’m right, as usual.”

Youngjae rolled his eyes and puffed out some air. “Whatever.”

“You’ve been thickening up like crazy. Your ass had been pretty perky. I know the signs of your heat.” Youngjae hit Mark’s shoulders as the beta let out his infectious hyena laugh. Youngjae couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Just get me home without killing me.”

I feel like there’s a lot of dialogue in this chapter??? Idk it’s whatever. BUT how did you guys like it? How you guys feel about the dynamics between the characters so far? There’s still more characters to be introduced and all, but the story is starting to pick up and i’m hella excited. eeekk.

Stay filthy xx

#2jae #2jae fanfic #2jae fic #2jae smut #im jaebum #choi youngjae #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #got7 #good love #mark tuan #park jinyoung #jackson wang #bambam #kim yugyeom

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fanfic-from-a-67-impala · 7 years ago

Text

A Supernatural x Reader Story Chapter Twenty-Three: Citizen Fang

Word count: 4231

(You can also read it on Wattpad here)

Master Post

"You called (Y/N), too?" Dean demands. "Gee, Sam, there anyone else I should know about?"

You have parked your car behind the Impala and walk over to where they stand on the side of the road.

"She was in the area," Sam defends. "And you can never have too much back up."

Something more is implied at the end of his sentence, in the hostile look that they share, but he keeps it between the two of them.

"I'd offer to leave this one to you two," you say once you reach them, "but if you're going to drag me down into the bayou, you're stuck with me."

Since the Mayan god case, you went off on your own, keeping in touch with the boys and meeting up with them for hunts if you happened to be in the same area.

Things had been tense between you and Sam since a werewolf case in Michigan, where you voted not to go after Kate, a wolf who had just turned. After all, she hadn't hurt anyone human, and she didn't choose the life she was handed. You all decided to let her go, but to take care of it if it turned out she couldn't stay clean.

You almost told him no when he called, not wanting to deal with the criticism, but there was a note of desperation in his voice that softened your resolve. Besides, you missed your boys. He smiles at you now, and you return it, letting each other know that whatever tension there was is in the past for now.

You were on a case in Missouri when Sam called. Not quite as "in the area" as he would have Dean believe, but you think it best not to complain too much.

"So, what do we got?" you ask.

"Guy got his neck ripped out," Sam informs you.

"A vamp?"

"Yeah," he says, "we've had a hunter friend tracking him for a while."

"Per Sam's request," Dean spits, glaring at his brother.

Sam scoffs. "And it looks like I was right."

"We don't know that it's Benny," Dean argues.

"Come on, Dean –"

"Whoa," you interrupt, turning to Dean. "Benny? Your friend who got you out of Purgatory, Benny? He's a vampire?"

"Yes, okay?" Dean concedes. "But he promised me he was going to keep his nose clean."

He says it with such conviction that you lean toward giving him the benefit of the doubt. Dean Winchester is a lot of things, but not a lousy judge of character, and anything but over-trusting.

You follow the boys through the door of a red-brick building, which you would have thought was the back of a restaurant kitchen had it not been for the Rooms for Rent sign. Up some stairs and a short way down the hallway, Sam is about to knock on a door labelled with the number 2.

Before his knuckles touch the black-painted wood, however, it opens, revealing an older man.

Crap, you think, recognizing the hunter.

"You said 'look for an eruption,'" he tells Sam. "How's Mount Vesuvius?"

He ushers the boys in but stops when you come into view, staring at you and crossing his arms, blocking the entryway. He looks to the boys again, then back to you.

"This one's going to have to wait outside," he announces, looking you in the eye. "I don't work with your kind... queers."

"Well, I don't work with nutjobs," you mimic his bitter tone, pushing past him, "so I guess we're both going to have to make an exception."

You feel Martin's eyes following you, burning holes into the back of your head as he closes the door. Sam and Dean look shocked and concerned, but you give them a quick nod.

"God," Martin starts again, "if John saw you hanging around his boys –"

"John's not here," you snap. "You going to start talking about the case?"

He glares at you for another moment, then turns to the boys. "I got into town about a week ago," he explains. "Up until last night, nothing. He's been clean."

"Doing what?" Dean asks.

"Just minding his own business," Martin replies, "working at the gumbo shack. Slinging hash, pouring coffee – the whole bit. And he may be Benny to you, but folks around here call him Roy."

Dean narrows his eyes at him. "Martin, you sure you're running on a full charge?"

You heard that Martin spent some time in psych hospital, and now, him standing in front of you, a paranoid mess, you don't doubt it.

"Y-yeah," he stutters, an insane smile on his face, "little sh-shock therapy in the morning and I-I'm good to go."

Dean flicks his eyebrows up at Sam in a "told you so" fashion.

"Tell us what happened last night," Sam prompts.

"I followed him home, just like every night," Martin continues, his voice shaky from paranoia and paired with elaborate gestures . "He turned up a path. I hear a scream. Boom – there he is. The old coot that Roy was eyeballing at the joint – vamped."

"Did you actually see Benny kill the guy or not?" Dean challenges.

"I saw enough," Martin insists. "I saw Benny turn up the path, and then two seconds later, I trip over a body with its throat ripped. You ever hear of Occam's razor? 'Keep it simple, stupid'? It's not that complicated."

"There's a lot of holes, Martin," Dean retorts.

"Holes?! The only holes we should be looking at are in the vic's neck," Martin exclaims, then turns to Sam. "Why am I getting the distinct impression that your brother is vouching for a vampire?"

"I got history with the guy," Dean remarks. "I'm not signing up for a witch hunt, okay? I owe him more than that. Until we get the facts, we stow the bloodlust and we work this case right, or we work it separately."

"Doing it right would be separating his head from his shoulders," Martin mutters.

"I just need a couple hours, Sammy," Dean turns to both of you, "(Y/N)?"

Martin turns to Sam again, who has been leaning against the wall, watching Dean. "You're not actually considering this?" Martin says, hate and disbelief in his voice.

"Hey," you shout over him with conviction. "Someone was killed out here, and we can't afford to miss anything. He needs a minute, we're giving him a damn minute."

Sam's eyes meet yours, and you think you can see a hint of disappointment in them. Martin scoffs at you and shakes his head. "Of course you –"

"Couple hours, Dean," Sam interrupts. "No more."

• • • • • • • • • • • •

First Kate, and now Benny.

You know that there is everything wrong with this picture, and you don't even understand why you put so much trust in them. Where are you supposed to draw the line between intuition and naïvety?

Sam walks over to where you sit on the floor, leaning against a wall, on the opposite side of the room from where Martin paces, mumbling something incoherent to himself every so often.

You prepare for a lecture, for Sam to repeat everything you have been telling yourself since Dean walked out the door. You're ready to tell him he's right, that you don't know why you've been sticking up for monsters aside from the feeling in your gut.

"So, I guess you're not as well-liked by other hunters," he says.

This renders you silent for a moment, shocked at the abrupt subject change from how the conversation had gone in your mind to what he says to you now.

It was true that quite a few of the hunters you have met while working with Bobby hadn't taken kindly to you. It's difficult enough being a woman in the business, even a business as lacking as hunting. Add being gay on top of that, and you grow accustomed to the name-calling and bigotry.

"Apparently not," you remark.

"He mentioned Dad?" His brows furrow in question, but the way he says the word, with love, endearment at the very least – not "our dad", or "my father" – Dad.

You can't tell him that his father and you had always felt a loathing each other. That you and he simply had different beliefs. And how he threatened that you wouldn't like what would happen if he caught you near his boys again, hence why you went years without seeing them around the time Sam left for college.

"We just..." you start, "didn't get along, I guess, that's all."

He looks at you as if he knows there was something more, but he only says, "I guess he was pretty old school," with a note of finality.

"How have you two been doing?" you ask with a lighter tone. "I heard you found Kevin."

"We did," he agrees. "He's staying on Garth's houseboat in Missouri, translating the demon tablet as we speak."

"Must have been tough," you comment. "Crowley being who he is and all."

"Well, Cas helped a lot."

You raise your head to him now, surprised. "Cas is alive?"

"He got out of Purgatory," he explains, "and he has no idea how."

"Really?" you exclaim. "Well, that'll come back to bite us in the ass later."

"Probably," he admits. "But, you know – bigger fish."

For a while, you sit there together, talking about recent hunts. Neither of you mention your demon thing, or how it might be clouding your judgement, though it's at the forefront of your mind.

When Dean finally gets back to the room, he explains that it wasn't Benny. Another vamp is in town, and he's taken another life.

"All I'm saying is that Benny is innocent," Dean insists, once the cries of opposition have died down.

"Did he say where this other vamp is?" you ask.

"Get it through your head, girl," Martin sneers. "There's one vamp in this town, and two people dead already."

"He didn't say where he was," Dean answers, ignoring him, "just that he'd lead us there."

Sam seems to consider this, looking from Dean, to you, to Martin. You were never one to do anything by blind faith. That's a good way to end up dead in this business. But trusting in Benny, someone you have never even met before, doesn't feel like faith. It feels like a hunch, a strong one, a feeling you couldn't describe if you tried.

"No," Sam tells him, rising from his seat to walk toward the door. "You're too close to this."

"You're not gonna find him," Dean says, holding a hand out to stop his brother from walking further. "And if you do, you'll be lucky to get out alive."

Martin down his glass of what smells like whiskey and sets it on an already cluttered end table, ignoring Dean's warning, and shuffles to the kitchen behind you and Dean.

"These are innocent lives we're talking about here, Dean," Sam pleads. "And you're willing to risk that on Benny's word alone?"

"Damn right I am."

You feel it before you hear it – something telling you to keep alert. Then Dean turns to you and the hilt of a knife flies out to meet his head, knocking him to the ground. It comes for you next, but you are already on your guard. With one hand, you grasp his wrist that holds the knife and bend it. With your opposite elbow, you pin him against the refrigerator, holding the knife to his throat.

His eyes are wide, and he seems surprised, either that you were so quick to react, or that you were able to overpower him.

The last time he saw you was ages before you started hunting with the boys, but what pokes at the back of your mind is how you knew what was happening before it happened. You could chalk it up to experience, but you know that whatever it is has something to do with Hell, with whatever you are becoming.

Sam gives your shoulder a light tug, but you are already pulling away, making sure to look Martin dead in the eye when you say to him, "Try it again, and I'll slit your throat."

Dean's body lays on the side, and you stare at him for a while, almost afraid to go near him.

"He made his choice," Martin says, then turns to Sam. "Let's go do our jobs."

Sam looks to you now, a question – a plea, maybe – in his eyes. But you have made your opinion clear.

"I can't stop you," you say. "Do what you have to do."

And he does. He and Martin walk out the door, and you watch them drive all the way down the road from between the blinds.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

You checked – Dean is out cold. Nothing but time can bring him back now.

His phone, however, was much more helpful. From the recent call logs, you find Benny's name, with a number listed below, which you track. It takes longer than usual, but you narrow it down to a workable area and drive until you reach a rusty grey camper blocking the road next to an old, neglected boathouse.

There is no movement in the area, but you assume the sounds of your car's engine would be enough to keep any vamp hidden.

Machete in hand, you climb out of the driver's seat and close the door.

"Benny?" you call out into the humid nighttime air, as loud as you think is safe with another, less friendly vampire on the loose. You are aware of every sound, every slight breeze, the movement of your clothes on your skin.

"What's it to you?" a rough voice with a heavy Cajun accent sounds from behind you, sending a chill up your spine.

Slowly, careful to avoid sudden movements, you turn around, swallowing back your fear.

Before you stands a man in a black coat, no taller than Dean, with sad eyes that you suspect are the result of years of loss and bloodshed and Purgatory.

"My name is (Y/N)," you explain, hearing the shakiness in your own voice. "I'm a friend of Dean's. I'm here to help."

He narrows his eyes at you, though you saw them flicker with recognition when you told him your name. Maybe Dean mentioned you. "You expect me to believe Dean sent some other hunter to help out his bloodsucker friend?"

It occurs to you now that you haven't thought this through. Why would he believe you? For all he knows, you're just another hunter, and he's just another vamp. Another kill.

"I guess we're going to have to trust each other," you say finally, turning the machete upside down so the side of the blade rests against your arm.

"Why would you trust me?" he retorts. "You don't know me."

"I know enough," you say. "Dean is like a brother to me, and you got him out of Purgatory. I owe you one."

He considers this, raising his chin toward you. You know that there's a possibility that he could be lying, that he's not Benny. But he looks familiar in a way that makes you believe it is him. And if it stops the actual killer, then you would have no choice but to believe him.

"Okay," he agrees. "(Y/N)."

With the blade and a flashlight, you follow him to the boathouse, taking the back door while he takes the front.

You cast a dim beam of light on the fishing equipment and scrap pieces of wood that line the shelves and tables, eyes and ears intent on sensing any kind of movement while trying not to make a sound as you step further into the room.

Minutes tick by without so much as a passing breeze, and you start to think that maybe Benny was wrong and there's no one else here. That is, until you feel movement behind you, following you as you advance through the room, the change in the air making the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

In one swift motion, you swing your machete all the way around you, but a head of blonde hair ducks low enough to avoid it before you feel his hands in a strong grip around your waist and you are off your feet, flying across the workbench.

Your shoulder aches where you landed on it, but you already see the vamp on top of you. With all of the power you can muster, you kick him across the shins, knocking him to the ground, giving you a chance to crawl in the opposite direction and reach for the blade you dropped when he threw you.

Your fingertips brush the hilt, but a hand is pulling your shoulder – the bruised one – down before you can get a grip on it. His teeth are bared now, the weight of his body holding you to the ground. You hold a forearm out across his chest, but you know it won't keep his teeth away from your neck for long. Desperate, you search for your blade to see if you can grab it in time, but something catches your eye behind him instead.

He pins your wrists to the ground above your head. Teeth still bared, he leans in toward your neck, and you headbutt him. It hurts more than you think it would have, and the shock makes it difficult to move. He leans back from the impact, barely phased, until a thin line of blood runs across his neck, and his head, now separated from his body, falls to the side.

Blood drips off of Dean's machete as he kicks the body away and reaches out his other hand to help you up, which you take, grateful.

"You good?" he asks, eyeing your forehead.

It aches, and the room spins when you first stand up, but you nod.

"Where's Benny?" you ask, holding a hand to your head. "He should get out of here. Sam and Martin could –"

"I, uh," he starts, avoiding your eyes. "took care of it."

You sigh, afraid to ask. "What did you do?"

"Let's just say Sammy's on his way to Texas," he says, "probably in Martin's car, so that ought to slow him down."

"Texas..." you muse. "Amelia?"

"I did what I had to, okay?" he says. "Question is, why didn't you go with them? Don't get me wrong – I'm glad you didn't. But that's a little out of character for you, isn't it?"

You take a few paces to pick up the machete and flashlight where you dropped them. Dean is right. This indescribable trust you put in Benny not being a killer – you can't place it, and it frustrates you to think that Hell was the reason you might not be cut out for this life, that you might be putting the people you work with in danger.

"Hey," he takes on a more serious tone now, eyes focused on yours, concerned. "What's going on with you?"

You shake your head. "I don't know, Dean," you admit. "Maybe I shouldn't be hunting. Whatever's been happening to me... I mean, I vouched for a vampire today."

"You vouched for me," he says. "You don't get to check out, not now. I don't know what's going on here, but we'll figure it out."

"Yeah," you mutter, not bothering trying to hide your disbelief, "we've been saying that for a while now."

"Listen to me," he says. "We will figure it out. Like it or not –" he raises his arms in a matter-of-fact motion "– you're family."

You can tell he truly believes what he's saying, but you also know that there's only so much any of you can do. You concede anyway.

"Look, you go and tell Benny he needs to get underground. Once word gets out, who knows how many hunters are going to be all over this? I'll take care of the body –" you gesture to the beheaded figure at your feet "– and you, my friend, are going to drive your ass down to Texas and make things right with your brother. You got that?"

He looks like he wants to argue, but he only nods, and you watch him walk out the door.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

A sheen of sweat has made your forehead and neck slick to the touch by the time you have covered the hole in the ground. You want nothing more than to stand outside and wait for the slightest breeze to cool the humid air, but decide against it, figuring it best not to linger where you just buried a corpse.

Instead, you climb into your car and make it a few blocks from the edge of town before you see a familiar grey camper speeding in the opposite direction.

You are so exhausted that you almost ignore it, but it pokes at the back of your mind until, almost with a mind of its own, the steering wheel is turning your car into the other lane, heading in Benny's direction.

At the end of the road, the car is parked outside a weathered-looking shack. You pull up next to it and grab the gun you keep underneath your seat before climbing the porch steps.

"Please," Benny's voice comes from inside the dark room, "I'm asking you – do not do this. The bad guy is gone, okay?"

"She doesn't know... Benny," Martin's voice says now.

"Roy?" An unfamiliar woman's voice sounds, trembling in fear. "Who's Benny?"

You swing the screen door open with your foot, your gun raised to Martin, who is holding a young woman with tears in her eyes in a chair with a knife to her throat.

"Take it easy, Martin," you warn, advancing further into the diner.

Panic flashes in his eyes for a moment before he kneels down behind her, blocking your shot. A line of blood forms on her neck, and she exclaims in pain.

"Stay back!" Martin yells, and you can't tell if he is talking to you or Benny. "You... you call yourself a hunter, but you're no better than any of these monsters."

You don't point out that you're not the one drawing civilian blood, and you don't move any further, afraid what a mad man would do to an innocent woman if he felt any more threatened.

"See that?" Martin looks at Benny now. "Dilated pupils, hair standing – signs of hunger!"

Glancing over at Benny, you see that he is right. His fangs are already becoming visible, and he turns to face the other direction. Away from the woman, you think.

"Benny." You want to offer some support, something for him to hold onto, but you can't think of anything to say that wouldn't make it worse.

"Don't worry," Martin tells the woman. "He won't feed off his own flesh and blood."

"'Flesh and blood'?" she voices what you are thinking as well.

"Tell her, Benny," he spits, rising as he shakes the knife at him. "Tell her how you're her long-lost grandpappy. Tell her about all the dead you left behind."

You follow him with your gun, but Benny, whose fangs have retracted, motions for you to stand down and turns back to Martin.

"What do you want?" he asks, sad eyes avoiding the woman.

"Isn't it obvious?" Martin snaps, unsheathing a machete with his other hand. "I want your head on a stake."

Benny says nothing. Only gives a small nod and walks over to the counter, where he lays his head down.

The woman lets out a soft gasp. "Roy, no," she pleads, voice breaking.

You consider killing Roy, while you have a clear shot. It would be so easy, to justify it with him threatening her life. But Benny is a vampire, and Martin is a human, a hunter. And though you know it wasn't Benny who killed the people here this week, you are a hunter, too.

For a moment, you hope, pray, with all you have that maybe Martin will see sense, that he will change his mind. You imagine him dropping his machete, conceding, and walking away from it all. You have never felt more helpless, unable to move as he raises the blade over his head.

Then, as if by some invisible force, it flies backward out of his hands, hitting the wall and clattering to the ground.

The panic returns to his eyes, but only for a moment, only for the time it takes Benny to leap across the counter and take him down.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

You are still in shock as you wash the blood off of your hands, having buried your second body of the night. Benny fed and left without a word, long gone by now. You checked all over the restaurant, finding no sign of anyone who could have moved that machete.

A thought you have been avoiding thinking, one that makes your skin crawl, crosses your mind: What if it was you? What if this linked to the part of your soul that's in Hell?

What if you killed Martin?

You offered to drive the woman – Elizabeth, she told you – to her folks' place, where at least she wouldn't be alone.

Now, you find the closest on-ramp, not caring which direction. And you drive.

#Supernatural #Supernaturalxreader #Supernatural fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #A Supernatural x Reader Story #series #writing is hard

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ioncewroteadream · 8 years ago

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Home

Isak and Even moving in together.

It started, as most things did at the kollektiv. Eskild making faces that ranged from fond to conflicted to constipated at him in the kitchen. And see, Isak had been really good lately. He’d done all of his laundry (thanks to Even). And he hadn’t been stealing food. Mostly. (Also thanks to Even.) So really, he’s done nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant Eskild’s scrutiny, at least. Finally he decided to give up and huffed before asking.

“What’s going on, Eskild?” The older boy jumped, as if they hadn’t been making awkward eye contact for the last ten minutes.

“Nothing, baby Jesus. Why do you ask?” He’s doing that thing. The thing where his eyes are kind of shifty and he’s fidgeting.

“Eskild, you’ve been weird all week and now you keep, like, making faces at me. What is your deal, man?” Even was supposed to come after his shift and the lack of his comforting warmth by his side was making Isak a little snippier than usual.

“Uh. Ok. So, there’s. Um. We, the girls and I, have been talking and - “

“Honey, I’m home.” It’s a thing they did now. Even’s booming voice is a magnet and Isak lets himself be pulled into long arms. “Was I interrupting your, uh, guru advising?” There’s a teasing smirk and raised eyebrows and Isak’s in love. You can’t really blame him for almost forgetting Eskild and their non-talk.

“He told you about that?” Oh right, he was still there. But. Even.

“Ja.” Even peppered Isak’s face with kisses and even Isak can admit it’s a little gross how cute they are.

“Ok. Boys,” Eskild’s dad voice was really effective when he needed it to be. “We need to have a family meeting.” Another thing they did. To keep the peace and all that. Isak acted like he hated it, rolled his eyes and sighed into Even’s neck through them all. But, he really loved it. It cemented that the kollektiv was his family.

They followed Eskild into the lounge, and settled onto the couch. Or, Even did, and Isak settled on top of him.

“So - “

“What about everyone else?”

“Herregud, let me finish. So. It’s been wonderful having you and Even here, mostly Even, you we tolerate.” Eye roll. “But. Um, five people. It’s a little crowded.” Isak sat up straighter, brows furrowed.

“Are we getting kicked out?” Even’s soothing hand did little to calm his suddenly pounding heart.

“No, no, sweetheart. Well, sort of? The flat isn’t meant for this many people, so someone has to go. I brought it up to the girls first, to ask them if they would be able to, but Noora suggested to ask you two, you know, in case you want to move in together?” And. Oh. That’s. Isak hadn’t thought of that. And from the way Even stilled beneath him, it seemed like Even hadn’t either.

“I...can we think about it?” Eskild looked like he was going to cry and nodded as he flung himself out of the room.

---

Isak couldn’t sleep. Not with his foot sticking out from the covers. Not with Even’s breath tickling against his neck. He just couldn’t stop thinking. He knew that he wouldn’t live at the kollektiv forever. He’d even imagined finding a place with Even someday. It’s just. He was so young. They both were. How would they support themselves? Even’s paycheck wasn’t enough for rent. And he really didn’t want to rely on his parents. Not with their rocky relationship. And the kollektiv was his home. The place where he forged his own family.

But there was a small (actually it was really fucking huge) part of him that really wanted to live with Even. Wanted to wake up to Even’s damn morning breath. And making out in the kitchen without being interrupted. Not having to wait for an empty flat to have sex (ok, they do it anyway, but the knocks on his wall are real mood killers). He could see it now. A small place to call their own. With odd furniture and pictures of them. Maybe a little puppy curling up at the foot of their bed. And.

“Even, baby wake up.” He didn’t. “Even, wake the fuck up.” Isak pushed him off and he nearly fell.

“Hva faen Isak. What was that for?” Grumpy Even made Isak want to kiss him. (All Evens made Isak want to kiss him, though.) He kissed Even sweetly.

“I want to do it.”

“What are you talking about.” Even’s sleep heavy voice was hot and Isak couldn’t stop kissing his sleepy man.

“I want,” kiss, “to move,” kiss, “in with you.” His hands found their way into Even’s hair and took hold. Even, as if by instinct, pulled Isak flush against his chest.

“What?” It was a mumbled little thing, but Isak stopped and sat back on his heels on Even’s legs.

“I want to move out. And find a place with you.” Even in the dark, Isak could see Even thinking.

“That’s...a lot.”

“You don’t want to?” At two am, Isak was allowed to overreact.

“I didn’t say that. Just. Are we ready? Would we even be able to afford it?” It’s all very reasonable. But still, there was domesticity and puppies on Isak’s mind.

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Eskild was right, babe. Five people is a lot. We could do it. It doesn’t have to be a huge, extravagant place. I was thinking about picking up a job anyway. Besides, isn’t this some kind of rite of passage? Like, moving in with your partner?” He was rocking on Even’s legs, not meeting his eyes.

“Partner?” Even laughed of fucking course, that’s what he focused on. “That’s a pretty big word baby.” Isak pinched his thigh. “I just mean. Are you ready? Being with me everyday? All the time? What happens when I’m manic and I do something shitty and you’re -”

“Hey, hey. None of that. Minute by minute, remember?” Isak had surged forward, and bumped their noses together, breathing him in. “I want to be with you always. I want to be there when you’re manic. I want to be there when you’re low. I want it all. I didn’t know how much I wanted to move in with you, but, god I really, really do.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” They smiled stupidly at each other.

“Yeah, I mean. We’re pretty much living together already. It’ll be nice to not worry about bothering your roommates hearing us all the time.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” As if Isak hadn’t thought about it. (He thought about it a lot.)

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

“Sorry!” They don’t sleep.

---

“So.”

Eskild’s nervous laughter is becoming way too common and he needs to chill.

“Yes, my gay son. That I love very much and want in my life.” Isak snickered into Even’s shoulder.

“We’re going to start looking for places this weekend.” Even was a good, responsible boyfriend.

The relief that washes over Eskild is visibly apparent. “Oh, my little babies, take as long as you need. And I swear to god, if you guys cut me out I’m going to be very upset with you.” He crushed them into a hug and Isak started to complain almost immediately.

---

It took them exactly two weeks to find a new place. Which was a lot sooner than anyone expected. But Even knew a guy who’s brother’s friend was trying to get out of his lease. It was kind of perfect. The flat itself was small, but enough room to chill with all of their friends comfortably. It was even close enough to both Nissen and UiO (Even still doesn’t know how he got in with his grades). Even had his parents help them with the deposit and they both had enough money to scrounge up IKEA’s finest (cheapest) furniture.

It made Isak’s head spin, all these changes. But with Even by his side, it’s so good. He’s given his resume out to at least a dozen places, and has been called back by most of them. They’re making this thing happen and it’s going to be so good.

---

“No you can’t just throw it in like that! It says fragile for a reason.”

“Oi, come on. You don’t even own anything fragile.”

“Gutta, chill.” Even checks the contents of the box and then carefully pushes it in the trunk. “See baby, it’s ok.” He kisses Isak’s freshly cut curls and lovingly smoothes his hand over his back.

“I’m going to see if there’s anything left in Isak’s room. Mahdi come with me.” Magnus pulls him away and they almost miss the imitation of a whip cracking and the two boys cackling behind them. Isak is holding Even’s face and that boy won’t stop looking at him like he’s most precious thing in the world and goddamnit if this is whipped, then Isak loves it.

“Halla, baby.” He scrunches his nose. “So I was thinking. Maybe we should just leave the boys here and start our own little party at our new place. What do you think about that?”

Isak can’t stop giggling, and nuzzles into his face. “Yeah? What kind of party did you have in mind?”

“The kind where I get to have you against every damn surface in every damn room. I even bought some sparkling wine.” It’s cute. He’s cute.

“Sparkling wine?”

“Yeah, isn’t that what you’re supposed to celebrate with?”

“I want beer.” His hands won’t stop playing with Even’s hair. He just can’t stop with this boy. His boy.

Even turns Isak’s hip and calls out as Sana approaches them

“So you’re here now?” There’s no bite, just easy. Teasing.

“Am I late?” Isak settles in Even’s lap and chuckles. No doubt she was late on purpose.

---

“One last thing, before I let you leave.” Eskild fiddles with the buzzer before stepping back to reveal a pride flag sticker next to their flat number.

“Eskild,” Isak groans fondly. “We don’t - “

“Yes you do, now give your guru a hug.” Isak holds onto Eskild for longer than he’d ever admit. Eskild has been so many things to him. A friend, a guide. A brother.

“Thank you, Eskild.” It means everything. It means thank you for helping me become someone I can be proud of. And thank you for not asking questions. And thank you for asking too many questions. It’s thank you for being there for me. And they’re both teary eyed when they finally pull away.

“Don’t forget me, baby Jesus.”

“I don’t think I ever could, guru.” Even lets an arm hang off Isak’s shoulder as they wave him off.

“That was sweet.” Isak hums in response. They’re living together now. This is it.

“Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Even’s looking at him, worried.

“I need you to kiss me. Now.” Even complies, gasping into Isak’s mouth.

They can barely keep their hands off each other and Isak is so glad when he’s being pushed backwards through their front door.

“Wait, wait. Stop for a second.” Isak pulls away, frowning.

“What?” He’s a little annoyed, they were doing something.

“Babe. We’re doing this all wrong.” What? “Let’s go back outside, I need to carry you over the threshold.”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible.” He’s less annoyed now, but Isak really just wants to be kissing Even again. “Isn’t that like an archaic tradition? Like. You don’t carry me in this relationship. We walked in together. That should be more symbolic.”

“Jonas is rubbing off on you in the worst ways. Who even are you? Just...come on baby, please? For me?” Even’s got those damn puppy eyes and Isak melts like butter on a hot stove. “I’ll make good on my promise and then we’ll bust out the wine. Please?”

“Fucking do it.” And he does. He wraps his legs around Even’s waist, though. He refuses to be held bridal style.

---

It’s late at night. Or early in the morning. And nothing’s unpacked. They’re lying on the mattress in their room, empty bottles next to their heads. Isak glows in the low light of the lamp by the door. He let Even take pictures of them in between rounds and the wine wasn’t as awful as Isak thought it would be.

He’s still wary of all the changes. He’s going to miss his kollektiv. Going to miss having free time (jobs suck, ok). But. This? This right here? It’s the closest Isak is sure he’ll ever come to heaven. He’s so happy with his boy. In their home. Their home. Holy shit, what a thought. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and he’s so goddamn lucky.

“Still awake?” He’s reminded of the night they decided this was going to happen. Even’s voice is gravelly and deep.

“No.” Even laughs his belly laugh and turns to look at Isak.

“I can’t believe we did it.” Isak hums thoughtfully.

“I can. I think we were always going to end up like this.”

“What, living together?”

“Yeah. Or. Just together. Happy. I think all of the other Isaks and Evens do too.”

“You think the parallel universe Isaks and Evens end up living in a shitty apartment?”

“Oi.” They’re giggling quietly, but then it hits Isak that he doesn’t really need to be so quiet anymore.

“Kidding. It’s not shitty. It’s home.” Even’s eyes say so many things but all Isak can see is love.

It is.

Home.

#evak #isak x even #isak valtersen x even bech næsheim #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #fanfic #Skam #skam season 4 #my babies #im so happy for them

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