#lesson here is that you should read more art books but also DON'T EVER READ ART BOOKS IF YOU'RE FEELING STUCK

[jitterbugbear]

btw i read anatomy books for artists and got an incurable case of "i actually don't know anything and i've been faking everything unknowingly and also all my methods are wrong" while also being like "rules don't really matter if it looks good and i have fun doing it and also i don't need to be a master of everything and being fast or efficient isn't always needed"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Brother Pt 3

Tw: suffocating unbearable love, violence, general yandere, female reader shenanigans, infantilization, and of course incest. also christmas

minors and ageless blogs dni please <3

click here for part 1 and part 2

Click here for my new oc Yves (PLEASE READ IT I LOVE YVES)

plotholes and emglish errors everywhere and i could not be bothered :100emoji: please dont point it out thanks xoxo

Caught the Covid fuk now i cant leave my bed im so damn sick and pukey all the time, i dont fuckin know where my roommate is but at least they're not here to get infected, feeling like a busted up rustbucket rn

So this was originally written last year, couldnt find what else to write but this christmas time is perfect, so like dont mind the shoehorning of Christmas somewhere in this fic

You're having your summer break and you plan to pick up on a new hobby. Crocheting, perhaps.

Fuck, your brother picked up your search history from his spyware. Now you're left to deal with $1000 worth of wonderful quality crocheting materials and your big brother being your personal crocheting mentor.

This is where it gets frustrating. Yes, if you have the resources, you would enjoy your hobbies more. But, just like... What if you didn't like crocheting in the end? You're stuck with all these.

It happens to every single potential hobby. Stamp collecting? Your big brother will bid to the death for an extremely rare stamp from the 1900. You're not even fucking collecting the stamps, the stamp book already comes arranged with all the stamps ever produced. A collection that would only give a hardcore stamp collector an instant orgasm upon sniffing it.

Nail art? Where the hell should you keep all the acrylic powders, fake nails, drills and drill bits? Not to mention the dizzying numbers of nail polishes, nail brushes, nail stickers and cuticle sticks. Of course, your big brother is going to hire a professional nail artist to make sure you're practicing your hobby safely while he's learning how to do it himself, so he could replace your mentor too. He would become so skilled that he could qualify to open up a 5 star nail salon. But he's not interested unless you are.

Painting? you absolutely do NOT need all of those tubes of paint. The difference in shades for some of them are so small that you mistook it for the same colour. You would have a headache choosing the right type of paper, right type of primer and right type of fixative to use.

Are you having troubles on painting? Let big brother teach you. You would sit on his lap as he guide your hands across the canvas. Don't you think his warm hand enveloping yours feel nice? Doesn't his free hand feels nice sensually rubbing your thigh? Don't you just feel protected in his hold?

Makeup? Same situation with your nail hobby. You're essentially being babied by him and experienced celebrity makeup artists, you would drown in a mountain of eyeshadow palettes, primers, setting sprays, skin care products, anything and everything related to makeup.

Every instrument ever? Big brother would insist lovingly providing all the music lessons you need. He is a musical prodigy after all. If it's something ridiculously obscure like a Glass Armonica or the Theremin, big brother would master it in a couple of weeks, earn a fucking pHD in it and THEN teach you. No instrument is too expensive or hard for him. Your big brother is crossing his fingers HARD for you to have this hobby.

Chess? Oh, he is also a prodigy in it. He could teach you. Your chess pieces would be custom made to your liking, by the way. It would be the perfect density, perfect size, perfect texture for you. He knows what you like and you hate that.

Sports? Take a look at his "achievement room". It's filled to the brim with golden medals and trophies of every sport competition ever. He's not leaving you alone for this one.

Pottery? Welcome to your very own personal pottery studio, furnished with all types of drying racks, ovens, kilns, turntables and equipments you have never heard of. Big brother is always there to supervise you, making sure there won't be any accidents.

Cooking and baking? You get to have an industrial sized kitchen all for yourself. Everything is decorated such that it looks like you would be on television, starring in a cooking show. You don't need to clean anything, or prep anything, or actually do anything, really. There's a team of professional chefs and assistants to do everything for you. They're paid to cheer and clap and celebrate when you pour cake batter into a pan.

Gardening? Well, there's a massive plot of fertile land for you to garden to your heart's content at the house he bought as your 18th birthday gift. If you want a big project, it will be done overnight. You wouldn't hear the gigantic machineries and vehicles tumbling about due to the soundproof walls he installed. No one would be able to hear you both either, doing god-knows-what inside.

Video games? Your big brother personally do not encourage you to pursue this. But... Nonetheless, he would spoil you rotten with all the latest gaming consoles, limited edition merchandises, pre release copies of your favorite game franchises and whatever your gamer heart desires. All at a hefty price of... Daily cuddles and kisses. And you also have to move in with him. And he gets to decide what game you're playing, if he deems it a "bad influence"? It is not staying in his house.

You rather not.

Nothing is fun because the fun parts are already done for you. You don't get to experience the highs and lows of picking up a hobby, you don't get to explore and experiment. You're literally cursed with luxury.

So imagine your boredom, stress and paranoia during summer break. All your friends are spies for your brother, your hobbies aren't even "yours", leaving your house would inevitably lead you to your brother and all digital footprints are heavily scrutinized by him too. No privacy, no autonomy, all monotony.

You juggled three smartphones at once. Throwing one up in the air, catching the other one with your dominant hand, throwing the last to your other hand. Who gives a damn if one, or all of them breaks? It's riddled with spyware and your big brother would buy you every time a new model is released anyways. Which is... A new phone, a month?

You stopped caring where he gets the money. Obviously he has an assload and can afford to wipe his ass with thousand dollar bills regularly.

It's summer break. One last resort to try and spend your time like a regular ol teenager is taking up a part time summer job. There is a wide variety of jobs to choose from with your qualification. Granted, it's minimum wage and mostly customer service.

If you work as a barista, the cafe or juice bar you'll be working at will LOVE the crap out of you.

Your older brother will visit daily and increase their sales tenfold. Of course, he would pick the drinks that you like doing. It's okay if you fucked up, its only your beloved big brother's order, you can add as much sugar, salt, pepper, cyanide as you want. He will never yell at you, never tell you that you made anything wrong or never even die.

The management will suddenly see a surge in daily customer count. Thanks to big brother's networking. And like him, they also will accept anything you make with no complaint... As per his instructions. You could go full on ridiculous and give them a cup of ice drizzled with strawberry scented dish soap and call it Tutti Frutti, they would still pay for it and take it with them. Though, you're not sure if they ever consumed anything from you.

Without fail, your brother would visit you during every break and hand you your meal along with a kiss on the forehead or the cheek. He would bring you out to eat but you would refuse everytime. You also didn't want his company, which made him pout and whine without fail. But it's nice that he would actually back off after the sixth "no".

However, you know that fucker is watching you from a hidden camera somewhere in the nooks and crannies of whatever breakroom you're resting in.

He would engulf you in a big hug when you get off work, telling you how proud he is of you for getting through another workday like a champ. Praising you for all the hard work and excellent performance, making sure to soothe and comfort you if you happen to come across a rude customer earlier in the day.

You try not to think too much about their fate.

You will be fed, bathed and loved after every shift.

Hell, he would even build up a company from scratch just to hire you. Any position you want, barista, manager, cashier, back office work, janitor- you name it, you get the "job" and get paid a pretty penny. All your other coworkers and customers are probably paid actors and actresses to simulate a "real life working experience" safely. He controls it all, making sure you have just the right amount of drama, the right amount of diplomacy and the right amount of gossiping. You're rarely pushed out of your comfort zone, though. Big brother always has your safety and best interests at heart.

Of course, he will never tell you all of this, to keep the immersion going. You're going to feel sad that you're not exactly experiencing reality. But a bastardization of it. Might as well star in a trashy reality TV show instead, at least, it's much more authentic than whatever your big brother has going on for you.

He doesn't need to even tell you though. You would pick it up easily and quickly especially if you already watched the Truman Show. Don't tell him you did, god help you if he ever gets an inkling that you knew about the existence of the Truman Show. He deemed that movie as demonic propaganda and he needs to lecture some sense into you. If you want out, just say that you're 'bored' and want to do something else. Your big brother will gladly drop everything and do anything in his power to help you "achieve" what you want.

But for the sake of "plot" in this latest installment, you agreed to work in a quaint little bubble tea stall. Where you're the only employee, making drinks for whoever is ordering in front of the shop's decorated window.

Of course, your big brother miraculously happens to work in a nearby skyscraper as one does. It's not that you didn't do your research, you were a hundred percent certain he didn't work in that building, because that fucker never goes to work... At least, physically. Perhaps he does his job, whatever that may be, through online means.

You were planning to use your bicycle to get there that you got yourself with "your" money. He never bought you a car or a bike or anything that would get you around, he saw it as something unnecessary. Why would you need it when big brother is available 24/7 to bring you anywhere?

Actually, you could have gotten yourself a car with the allowance he gives you every day for being cute and adorable, and being patient with his incessant kisses and hugs and cuddles and love and touches and his fucking insanity in general.

But you know that he's going to kick up a massive fuss about driving alone. It was hell to even get your license with him actively trying to sabotage you at every exam- which includes him stooping so low to bribe the examiner to fail you. However, you persevered, and you got that stupid license. All the while, he was lamenting about how you're going to leave him all alone, how you don't need big brother anymore, how society pressured you to grow up too fast and recklessly drive off wherever.

You knew better than to fall for that. Or even entertain it either. Eventually, he gave up trying to guilt trip you into crying, apologizing to him and sobbing in his arms, promising that you won't leave him.

It's not like he DIDN'T kick up a fuss when you said you're using a bicycle either. He began freaking out about your safety, fearing that you might get run over.

Well. You admitted defeat. He's driving you to fucking work and back. It's not worth it to fight this battle.

So you began working in the stall. You had someone train you for your first 2 weeks. Then you were on your own.

The owner, who is also the person who showed you the ropes around there, said business isn't good, but it isn't bad either. So you didn't need to worry about rush hour where hoards of thirsty, sleep deprived office workers trample over each other to get their daily boba fix. It's pretty peaceful working there.

But what you do need to worry about, is your fucking big brother.

He would come and buy a drink, whichever you like to make. It can be the most expensive one, or the cheapest one, the most elaborate one or the simplest one. It's up to you, he will pay for it and happily drink what you made.

You could make him pay for the most expensive drink there is but serve him a cup of lukewarm water, and he would still drink it with glee and fork over his money, telling you to keep the change (which is usually a hundred bucks extra).

Let's say you want to be decent and make him drink that you know he would actually like. Which is anything that tastes generally fruity. And insist that you like making it even though it actually sucks.

He knows. He can tell that you're specially making his favourite drink. And that makes him happy and more obsessed with you if that's even possible at this point.

He would leave a massive tip and a kiss on your forehead.

Although your brother is fucking gross and weird like that, you still love him. Probably a bad idea but you're working so hard, trying your best to earn money honestly just to get him a Christmas gift.

Despite the restraining order between your parents and him, your brother is still invited back home each year to be jolly together. Preparations start a few days before Christmas, where you would see an unusual sight.

All of your immediate family members in the same room, or at least in the same house together without fighting to the death. Your dad's bones are intact, your mom didn't have her insecurities jabbed on for once. They're not exactly on speaking terms, per se.

You woke up one morning to see an... appropriate sized tree for your parent's house, erected in the middle of the living room. Adorned with beautiful ornaments and... are those pictures of you on the ornaments?

Wrapped presents were patiently sitting under the tree. There was a small box with your father's name on its tag, another small one with your mother's name on it. A decent sized box was addressed to your brother, must be a combined present from your parents.

Your shoulders sagged in defeat when you saw your presents took up the perimeter of the tree and even conquered the couch, the back of the couch and under the coffee table. You lost count after gift box #27.

Since everyone is in the kitchen, you quickly place the presents you got for your parents... and your brother.

You panned to the fireplace. Your Christmas stocking is filled so much to the brim that your brother must have added 5 more next to your original one. Your parents' and your brother's stockings are relatively empty. You stuffed them with candies and nuts to make them look less embarrassing.

You straightened your back, that should do it. Your ears perked up when you heard some clamoring in the kitchen. It must be your brother.

You let out a surprised yelp when you're yanked back by a pair of arms that snuck around your waist. "Merry Christmas, my little wittle precious baby!" You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face as he attacked you with a barrage of kisses.

He giggled and squealed as he held you in his arms and twirled you around in glee. You let out a scream of horror as your feet dangle off the ground. He does this every Christmas morning when you were a child to wake you up further and get you excited for the holiday. But you're not a kid anymore, and this is horrifying.

Finally, he stopped and put you down. Your hair is frazzled and the world around you is gyrating. He squeezed you in another hug and gently rocked you side to side.

He immediately unlatched when you said you're hungry. Your big brother gleefully lead you to the dining table, where he fixes up a napkin around your neck like a bib. You asked him why is he tying a ribbon on your hair, he said that you are his Christmas present and he is spoiling himself this year.

Before you could respond, he gave you a brief peck on the head before frolicking away into the kitchen.

Your parents came out of the kitchen, greeting you. They're holding a tray full of steaming hot breakfast foods, no doubt your brother forced them to make it for you. Every Christmas generated a metric ton of leftovers. It's because your brother wanted you to try all of the foods from all over the world. But don't worry though, the leftovers could be so intact that it was given out to neighbors and friends and extended families. Some didn't even need to cook after that, the sheer amount of leftovers was enough to fuel ten more Christmas gatherings.

Croissants, quiches, various types of bread, eggs, ham, bacon even panettone made from scratch. Looking at the spread in front of you is dizzying, your big brother sets down the last plate right between your hands. It's a breakfast plate your brother customized to fit your usual preference, everything is shaped into a heart. He patted your head as he took a seat next to you.

Everyone ate in silence. Everyone was focusing on their own meal except... your brother. Who else would rather stare at you adoringly instead?

He asked if you wanted to go make snowmen outside. Not without proper winter protection, that is. You shrugged, it's not like you could escape your family anyway. Your friends are all busy with their own families, and you don't even have friends. Everything is closed and if you lock yourself in your room, your brother will just pick the fucking lock and force his way in.

Your parents tried making small talk, this earned a feral glare from your brother because it interrupted the connection between the both of you. They paid him no mind and began asking about your life. You tiredly replied to their questions and asked some back yourself, to try to find any sense of normalcy. Your brother would be disengaged with the words coming out of your parents mouth, but highly interested in what you had to say.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully. You offered to help clear the table and do the dishes. Your brother just 'aww'd at you and gave you an appreciative kiss on your forehead. That wasn't an explicit yes, he appreciated the gesture, but he wouldn't allow you to dirty your hands doing chores.

He told you to wait for him to clean up. In the mean time, he gave you permission to open some of the gifts he got you. Frankly, you don't even want to deal with it at all, it's just too much crap. You decided to go through the stockings instead and grab some snacks for yourself.

As expected, he filled it with the most expensive treats and the freshest oranges. These types of foods are usually served in a formal setting, like eating gold crusted caviar at a 10 star restaurant, all dressed up in fancy clothes. But he just... shoved it in a Christmas stocking as if they're mundane chocolates.

Whatever, you shoved some into your pockets.

You turned around to see your brother smiling lovingly at you. He wrapped a puffer jacket around you, his scarf with his cologne on it, a pair of thick mittens on your hands , a winter hat snuggly fitted to your head, and a pair of thick pants he made you wear in front of him.

He picked one of your numerous christmas presents and handed it to you. He clasped his hands together expectedly as he watches you.

Your brother urged you to open it, go wild. Rip the wrapping to shreds. You felt so bad seeing how well wrapped it is and the quality of the wrapping paper is... indescribably good. It doesn't even feel like paper, it feels like silk.

So your carefully dismantled it, trying not to tear anything. You look up to see that your brother is pointing his camera at you, capturing this very precious moment. He encouraged you to go on.

You managed to remove the packaging and revealed a box of expensive winter boots. These are high quality and you would have been the source of envy even though most of your "friends" are also from wealthy families. Not everyone gets to have these.

You appreciate it but... You already had a pair of winter boots, the ones from last year, and the year before that. And the year before that, and a week ago where your brother is freaking out about you potentially having frostbite on your toes.

"It's the latest model! It was released as a part of a Christmas special, it will keep you warm and protect your feet too. It was selling out fast, I'm so glad I managed to get a pair for you, I can't have my sweetiepie sad on Christmas day!" Gushed your brother. You slipped them on.

You can't tell the difference between the one you had last year and the one on your feet now. Maybe some minor difference in it's stylistic design but... they're equally as comfortable.

You thanked your brother and finally gave him what he actually wanted from all this: a hug. He put away his phone and returned the embrace, sinking so deep into your jacket that neither of you can move without stumbling. You know he expected you to show gratitude for all his gifts through his main love language; touch.

It is exhausting.

After that, he brought you out to his private plot of land which he made into a park, complete with swingsets, monkey bars and slides. But these aren't for the public, it's for you. All the equipment are well maintained and look brand new even though you know it's been there for years.

He's not fond of throwing snowballs because it could hurt you. But he allows you to throw as much as you want at him. Even after the stunt you pulled last year.

You packed snow around a rock and hurled at him with all your might, it went straight to his head and his right eye was busted for months. Your brother didn't see that as something wrong, though. Even if you tried to apologize, he said that it was an accident and it was alright, he still loves you dearly and you did 'nothing wrong'. The first thing he did after recovering from his injuries at the hospital is to take you out for hot chocolate and then give you a backrub back home because winter could make your muscles stiff; and hence you must feel strained and sore.

He was still mildly bleeding from his gauze at the time, it was covering at least 70% of his upper head. Your brother was clueless when you asked if he needs any painkiller for his recent injury. He claimed to not feel the pain, but his wincing tells you otherwise. He rewarded you for your concern nonetheless with hugs and kisses and another massage.

You laid yourself on the snowy ground and started making snow angels. Your brother had his camera out and began capturing every moment he has with you.

You felt uncomfortable. And the cold is nipping at your bones even though you're thoroughly insulated by the sophisticated winter gear your brother made you wear. You're ready to go home now.

It shocked your brother and made him a bit desperate. He stammered and stumbled over his words, asking you if you wanted to play on the swing, build a snow man, play on the slides, the merry go around and... throw snowballs at him. Are you cold? He was in the middle of removing his own jacket to layer it onto you, but you stopped him.

You said you're tired. You don't find this fun and you're too old for this.

Maybe you're thirsty? He packed a flask filed with steaming hot chocolate for you- no? You're not thirsty or hungry? Maybe you wanted to use the bathroom-- no? You don't have to go?

He tried listing out all the possible reasons you wanted to go home and all its' solutions. Desperately wanting you to stop growing up so fast.

You got sick and tired of this, you yelled at him at the top of your lungs that you wanted to go home. You then stormed away towards the car, leaving your brother to stand there in silence, his camera capturing your explosive outburst.

Your brother saw you slamming the door angrily as you got in.

He sighed, gulping and hovering his finger over the delete button. But he ultimately decided against erasing the footage, it's still a video of you after all. Your brother assured that he's coming to the car, he wipes a stray tear away as he heads to his vehicle.

The both of you stayed silent as he drove you home.

Once you arrived, you bolted out of the car and ran back in. Locking yourself in the bedroom and barricading the door with random furniture. Hugging your knees close to your chest as you pray that your brother does not go after you by climbing into your windows.

And... he didn't. He left you alone for once. For a few hours too. It gave you the much needed relief, you felt like you could breathe now.

You're starting to feel a bit hungry. And you're hungry enough to be willing to face your older brother. So you began unbarricading, placing your dressers to it's original place.

You carefully unlocked the door, fully expecting him to be waiting outside for you. To your surprise, no one was in the hallway. You could hear some noises downstairs, in the kitchen.

You cautiously went down, the tree is still intact. Nothing is broken and there doesn't seem to be signs of a fight. You released a breath that you didn't know that you were holding, happy to know that you don't need to spend another Christmas at the hospital visiting your badly battered parents.

You whipped your head to the sound of your brother calling your name softly. He's holding a baking tray and a bowl, you can't tell what is in there because he's too tall. He smiled at you as he set it down on the dining table. The tray contained freshly baked parts of a gingerbread house and the bowl contained vanilla frosting.

You scanned the rest of the table. There are numerous small glass bowls containing different types of candy and snacks; from pretzel sticks to colourful chocolate rocks, to real gold leaves. Piping bags with metal tips are present too next to a box of plastic gloves.

Your brother pulled your chair out and invited you to sit there. You did, and he called you a good girl. His good girl. As you put on a pair of plastic gloves, he kissed you on the temple.

You asked where your parents are. He said that they're preparing the food for dinner, which includes ham and a roast turkey. And 15 other dishes.

You quizzed on, asking if there will be more people coming in. He shook his head: no. It's only the four of you. In the meantime, you should enjoy yourself building this gingerbread house. He puts on his own pair of plastic gloves too and began filling the piping bag with icing.

The two of you worked in peace, you opting to decorate the house while he pipes the details on the gingerbread men.

There is only two, a large one and a smaller one. You can guess which represents who.

You noticed the odd choice of attaching the small one to the large one's torso. With strategic use of the candies and frosting, he made it look like the larger gingerbread man is carrying the smaller one on its hip. He piped your defining features onto the baby gingerbread, and piped his features on the larger one.

He noticed you staring, your brother asked if you had a hard time connecting the pieces with frosting and if you needed his help. You said no, you just need a spatula from the kitchen. He tried to get up from his seat, but you pushed him back down, saying that you can get it yourself. He pouted, telling you to be careful and not touch the knives or stoves. Your brother went back to obsessing over the details on his gingerbread men.

You went inside the kitchen and greeted your parents who are busy cooking. You go through the drawers to find a silicone spatula and decided to help pick up some stray food scraps on the floor, throwing them into the bin. But as soon as you step on the pedal and have the lid swing open, you saw two crushed, but perfectly edible, gingerbread men in the garbage bin.

You returned to the dining table to see that your big brother is proudly presenting his work. He said this represents you and him... as if you already haven't figured it out. He said he dreams of having you live with him in a perfect fantasy house, fantasy world where you never have to grow up. And he will always be there by your side, taking care of you till the end of time. You will be pampered and spoiled rotten, you don't have to do anything, you don't have to lift a finger. Your big brother will do everything for you. He would even breathe for you if he could.

You nodded in acknowledgement, too tired to engage with him. You sat back down, continued with the gingerbread house. You failed to notice the flicker of sadness in his eyes, your brother felt so neglected and unwanted these few years. He wished that you were a kid again so the both of you could play together and be happy. The more he tries to win your favour, the more distant you get from him. He is endlessly chasing and you are running non-stop.

The rest of the afternoon went by uneventfully, other than the fact that your big brother rests his head on your shoulder the whole time.

Now, it's time for dinner. You tried helping them bring out the dishes, your brother praised you for being a darling as usual. He lets you have the first bite of the turkey, tearing a small inconspicuous piece of flesh from the bird and hand feeding it to you. It's still warm, juicy and delicious. Maybe it's the feeling of being special that makes it even tastier.

You chew as you brought out the casserole, setting it down on the table.

You looked at the spread. It looks like a buffet at a high end hotel. So many varieties and extremely nutritious.

Your brother fixed your napkin bib for you again and took food for you. Slumping in your seat, you were thinking of protesting but you knew it's easier to just wait for him to carve the best parts of the turkey for you and let the food pile up neatly on your plate first. He returned it to you, all your favourite dishes are on it within sensible portions. But these are still a lot of food for a person.

He didn't care about praying. Your brother wanted you to eat as soon as possible because you must be hungry. And it is absolute sacrilege to let you go hungry.

You insisted that you join your parents in saying grace and you're not that hungry. Your brother looks uncomfortable, still believing in his sick mind that you're starving to the point of emaciation. But since you are adamant in doing such 'pointless' things In his mind, he agrees, only if he leads it.

Everyone bowed their head down and held each others' hands.

Your brother said the shortest, most insincere, laziest grace ever. Once he fulfilled your requirement, he urged you to eat.

You're upset, you felt really angry and you thought he was mocking you instead. So you opted to eat alone in your room, you made it clear that you didn't want anyone in. Especially not your big brother.

He cried out a desperate plea to get you to stay with him. You ignored him and took a couple more of your favourite finger foods. Predicting a fight between your brother and your parents.

You wrenched your arm away from his powerful grip and fled the scene, hurrying up the flight of stairs. Only slowing down when you're out of sight.

As you thought, sounds of verbal fighting started resonating throughout the house. You heard your brother screaming his head off at your parents for being bad influences and poisoning you to hate him. Your parents defended themselves and this only fuelled the fire. You didn't want to be around when your brother started hurling chairs, so you slammed the door as hard as you could. The sudden loud noise did stop the commotion downstairs briefly. But it continued soon after.

You ate alone, in your barricaded room. Wishing that you're born into a 'normal' family, with 'normal' trauma. To a lot of people, you are complaining about a blessing. But you are always feeling alone, the only person facing a problem which everyone sees as a solution.

You scraped the last bits of food with your spoon. Waiting for the sounds of the ambulance or at least for the fighting to quiet down.

You looked at the clock. It's 1 AM. It's been relatively quiet for a while now, they should be finishing up their fight or cleaning up. Time for you to return your plate.

You grunted as you pushed the furniture away from your door which felt like the umpteenth time. You left your room and head downstairs.

Hearing soft sobs from one person, your brother. He's sitting in front of the tree, hugging the present you left for him earlier. The presents addressed to your parents are both missing, presumably being taken back to their room. A blanket is loosely draped around his shoulders.

You took slow steps, unsure if you should comfort him or not. But before you can even decide to chicken out, he spotted you. However, to your surprise, he didn't approach you or tell you to come forward. He gave you a soft assuring smile, before returning his attention to the tree.

You set your plate aside and went by his side. Your brother watched you with puffy eyes full of love, yet it tells you that he has been irreparably hurt by something... or an accumulation of things.

"Thank you..." He whispered, refering to the gift you gave him. It isn't something particularly valuable to you. It's a picture of the entire family in a photo frame. Your brother is going to cherish it, because it is a gift from the person he loves most in the world. But deep down, he secretly wishes that it was a photo of you and him alone.

He still looks extremely upset and distraught. Almost like he is at the brink of a breakdown. Your brother usually verbalizes what he wanted, but he couldn't this time.

You wonder what your parents got for him. You peeked over his shoulder to see that an unopened box containing a plain T-shirt and a pair of socks is carelessly discarded to the corner of the room.

Then, it clicked. Just like you, he felt alone. Maybe you will never understand why he holds you so dear in his heart. Just like how no one will understand him either, his struggles are unique to him with no one to relate.

He destroyed the relationship between himself and your parents. His friends are all superficial. You're grown up and constantly rejecting his love.

Not a single one of you paid attention to him. Yes, it is hard to think of a present for someone who has everything. But they could have put in a bit more effort, the colour of the shirt and socks aren't even in his favourite colour or in the correct size. You could have removed your parents from the photo, your brother will never remove it himself. Because that would mean defacing your gift for him.

And growing up, your parents never saw him as... a person. As someone with feelings and a personality. They only saw his value as a trophy piece to show off to their friends and family. Same goes to his friends now, if it wasn't for his skills and possessions, he would be nothing to anyone.

He had to beg to be loved. Even that isn't reliable, he could give it his all and everyone around him will expect more. Your brother could never dream of being the receiving end of his own affection. It seems like an impossibility to him.

Perhaps he is doing all of these despite getting nothing but disgust and disdain from you is all to protect your innocence, to not put you through what he had to face. It's just that he went about it the wrong way. Or maybe he is just... wrong in the head. Or maybe he was hoping by loving you so much, you would give him the intense type of love he was yearning for his entire life.

Either way, he is alone.

The both of you are now seated in front of the fireplace. You didn't want to open presents, your brother is okay with that. He did not nag you to do it for once. Snuggling closer, the both of you shared a blanket. He still looks unhappy and crestfallen.

You remember you still had the ribbon bow on your head.

He hovered his arms around you as you squirm in his grip. You managed to crawl into his lap and rest your head on his chest. He lets out a chuckle and some sniffles, clamping his arms back down around you.

You reminded him of one last gift. Your brother is confused until he saw your ribbon.

From that moment on, he burst into tears of joy. He found you so unbearably adorable, so unbearably cute that his heart couldn't take it. An excited squeak escaped his lips as he held you even tighter. Peppering kisses all over your face, neck and head.

He started blabbering in baby talk, calling you every pet name and listing out everything he loved about his 'gift'. Repeating that this is the best gift he ever received and this is all he ever wanted. You are all he ever wanted. Praising that you remembered what he loves.

You hope that he could feel a little less lonely tonight. You can't peer into his head and know exactly what is going on inside. But you knew, he was happy.

Your breathing calmed him down and he closed his eyes, nuzzling against your neck. The collar of your shirt wet from his tears and your arms are secure around him. Your brother mumbled "I love you." as he adjusted you on his lap. Pressing your form against his, enjoying the heat that the both of you shared. Wishing that this moment will never end and you will never part from him.

You realized another thing too as he strokes your hair.

Your older brother is the only person in the world who harbors true, undying, unconditional love for you.

Even though he has his flaws, there will be no one else like him. Ever.

So you closed your eyes and melt into him. Just like before, you felt safe.

The both of you fell alseep in front of the hearth, surrounded by gifts, mostly unopened ones. Snowflakes floating down from the skies and landing delicately at the edge of the roof. Feeling unburdened and content in the living room.

Merry Christmas.

[thatuselesshuman]

Casper's 101 guide to improving your writing

So uh I'm not at all qualified to tell you how to write but someone irl told me I should make a guide so here it is. This is how I learned to write, and I like to think I'm not that terrible

Step One: Read

It's difficult to learn to write if you don't have the base material. It's like cooking, if you never eat different foods then your food will be bland cause you don't know what flavors are out there. Reading is the best thing you can do to when you start getting into writing. It'll tell you what your preferences are and it'll expand your vocabulary (both very important steps!). It'll tell you what POV you want to write in, certain words that give you the ick, plot points you enjoy, genres you like, how many mistakes you can tolerate, styles of writing you enjoy, etc.

Note: don't just read prim and proper books. Read fanfiction, read manga, read manhwa, read webnovels, read anything and everything that catches your eye. They all have their different qualities, and they're all better at doing one thing or another. Read, read, and read some more.

Step Two: Start Small, and Start Enjoyably

No sane person starts out writing massive novels out of the gate. A novel is a massive undertaking, and if you do it incorrectly it's a great way to kill your enjoyment though writer's block. What you're going to want to start with is short stories, one shots on Ao3, etc. Write small stories that are manageable and write a lot of them. Write stuff you enjoy as well, since you're not trying to impress anyone. This step is to dip your toes into the world of writing and kindle a good starting flame so you don't crumble into the ground the first time you hit writer's block.

Note: Don't be afraid to start with nitty gritty stuff if that's what you enjoy writing. I personally started with heavy angst, whump, torture, and the like because that's what interested me. That's what I wanted to write. There's nothing wrong with writing whatever the hell you want. I stand by the fact that censorship is the death of art.

Step Three: Practice Detail

Have you ever looked at a passage while reading and thought 'huh, this description is really bland'? Well I have. A mark of a good writer is being able to describe everything down to the dirt (not that you always should, but that's another lesson for another day). You may think that it should be easy to describe things in detail, but trust me when I say that it's a skill. Some ways you can practice are:

Describe your room in excruciating detail through brush strokes (like you would a painting)

Describe a mundane object through the lens of someone from the far past

Describe the nature around your house in abstract shapes

Describe a waterfall through the perspective of someone who has never seen one in their life

There are plenty more, but here are some to get you started.

Step Four: Grammar

Trust me when I say this is most people's least favorite step. It's boring, I know, but knowing how to utilized commas, ellipses, — <- these things, semicolons, etc, is a relatively easy way to instantly boost your writing. No one likes to read a story where it seems like the author hasn't seen a period in their life.

Note: This is just general advice, but if you wouldn't want to read it, then don't write it. That's another reason why the first step of reading is important.

Step Five: Share Your Writing With People

Whether you share it with strangers (like I did) or people you know, sharing your writing is an amazing way to get advice and feedback. It's also a great way to meet people who have the same interests as you. Writing is a bubble with no outside interaction makes it harder to get better at writing because it's easy to have rose-tinted glasses about your writing. It's also easy to think your writing is ass, even if it's really not. Having people around you who will tell you the truth is great as a reality check whenever you're blind to how things are.

Step Six: Write Until Your Hands Hurt

This is the step that always shows up on writing how-tos, and I'm not immune to it either. The reason everyone says to write a ton is because you're never gonna get better or have a passion for writing if you never do it. It's like art or a sport, how the hell do you expect to get better if you never touch a pencil or never pick up the ball? Divine intervention? I mean that is possible but unless you're writing the Bible then I don't think God is going to bless you miraculously with amazing writing skills. It's like anything in life, practice makes progress.

Everyone starts out terribly, and there's always going to be that 8 year old prodigy who's better than you, but that's not why writers write. We write because if we don't, the voices hunt us down-

Anyways, jokes aside, that's my guide to writing. I don't think it's too terrible, but that could just be the glasses I mentioned in the fifth step speaking.

[lyralit]

4.1.24 - the importance of learning new things

As much as I think academic & work focus is incredibly important going into the new year, one of my other goals is to practice doing more: to learn all of the things I want to do, in addition to work, in addition to writing. I want to know how to do thousands of little things, and I think the longer we wait, the less likely we are to do them.

Picking up a new hobby doesn't have to be buying a dozen textbooks and spending hundreds of dollars on lessons because you might have the slightest interest: it can be from whatever you have here, now, and you'll never learn if you don't get started.

Some of the things I've been getting into (as I've mentioned before) are baking & crocheting. it just feels so cozy and nice & I love the idea of comfort.

here is a list of things I want to / you should try that's new!

learning a new language. fifteen minutes a day, I kid you not. I'm learning latin on duolingo and I don't ever think about it, but when I do it (25 day streak 💪🏻), I'm starting to notice my improvements

consuming good media. and that's not scrolling for half an hour on tumblr. it's books—deep ones and silly ones and ones about romance and dragons and apocalypses. it's movies! I watched keira knightley's pride and prejudice twice in the last few months, and also three men and a baby which is something I never thought I would watch, but it was quite funny I think. and I learn from it: I cannot write humour or romance for the life of me, so it's basically studying to write (is the self-gaslighting too evident?)

learning to crochet. I made a silly little headband today, after scrolling through pinterest and desperately wanting one. I started crocheting in december to give as gifts (I completed none of my wips, much like when I write) and used the tools I had around me: an old rainbow loom hook and whatever string I could find. now I'm proud to say I can read somewhat fluently crochet acronyms.

baking. I keep saying this. I know. but when I tell you a two years ago I was exploding cupcakes in the oven and last month I made bakery-style cookies...I made bread! a loaf of bread! (in a bread machine, but it's so good and I instantly made another. there is one in the bread machine right now). honestly it just made me feel that much better about improvement, and trying new things, and that is the mindset I want for the new year.

learning to code. in all honesty, I never thought I was a compsci - engineer kind of person. then this year, out of sudden (masterminded) urges, I joined a bunch of tech and robotics initiatives, and maybe it's the sense of community (I can rejoice in finding another nerdy group) but now I am happily chauffeuring myself to these meetings 4h a week. I'm looking into pursuing more into the fields of eng and science. and I'm learning some code from one of the friends I've made!

starting a blog. ...I know most of the people who linger around my blog stay for the writing content (the last posts have turned this writerblr into a digital diary, and I'm only half sorry for that). but since I've joined tumblr (almost three years ago now!) I've got to meet so many wonderful people (including you!) and want to try so many things.

and I get it. it's overwhelming. so here are some starting goals that maybe I'll try also.

start doing art. -> make a card for someone as a gift.

learn a new sport & start exercising. (I'm trying out track & field in the spring, so stay tuned to figure out how that goes) -> see if someone will come play ball with you. do 1 or 2 youtube workout videos a week.

film videos of your daily life. it doesn't need to be for posting! -> edit together clips you've taken for a last year recape.

start a scrapbook. -> print out photos and dig up construction paper. decorate a page.

make a poetry journal. -> go on pinterest to read poetry! pin styles you like and set fifteen minutes to writing.

make a regular journal! -> write once a day. just try: goals for the day in the morning, or a recap at night.

try your hand at gardening. -> research plants that grow well in your region. see if any of the seeds you may have at home are useful. water your lawn. buy a plant and try to keep it alive (set reminders, leave it in front of your sink)

learn to make candles. -> watch a youtube tutorial. see if you can play around with candles you already have.

play chess. -> see if someone will play chess with you. no? chess.com is right there. go make an account. go find a stranger.

learn to play an instrument off youtube. -> maybe you have a piano sitting around, or a guitar you've never touched. you don't even need to master it. pick a song you like and google that. no instrument? maybe there's a way to play drums with home items.

go for a run. -> once a week. a set time. just shoes and the outdoors. too cold? go to a gym and use a treadmill. maybe that's not possible? skip rope.

start / join a book club. -> just you, or some close friends, or people online. a book a month. talk about it.

** on that note, would anyone like to join a tumblr book club? slide into my asks and maybe we can get a blog list!

thank you for reading again <3 until next time.

k.

[dokoni-mo]

So your wonderful sketches have sparked the fluff part of my brain with an idea!

What if bunny was an artist or simply liked doodling and they had a sketchbook. So maybe one day they left their sketchbook on the counter. And because Peepaw willy is nosy as fuck, he looks through it, and finds sketches of himself. Kinda a lot of sketches of him.

He’ll probably bring it up with his dear bunny, because they’re simply so cute to him. How sweet of them to doodle him💜. But personally i think this would be a disaster for three reasons.

1. Inflates his ego

2. Inflates his ego

3. Inflates his ego

Thoughts??

CHERRY ADLFKJAJKFF;A YOU CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THISSS /LH

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader 20 will almost 40), sensual touching, will likes to snoop lol, he's also obsessive, and VERY egotistical, sir kink, sexual themes, teasing, dom/sub undertones, allusions to corruption kink, not proofread IMSORRY

It depends on what you mean by a disaster tbh,, Like yes of course it's gonna inflate his ego to holy hell LMFAOO like just the thought of you sitting there on your own? Thinking of him so much that you draw him a bit of an embarrassing amount of times? Oh my god he is over the moon

You're not ever gonna share this information though. It's embarrassing, at least to you, so you'd never show him on your own. You'd show him some of the other things you draw, but never those ones. But you underestimate how nosy Will is. Especially when it comes to his bunny. He wants to know every single little thing about you, and he knows there's pages in that sketchbook he hasn't seen.

So when you leave your backpack unattended to whilst you're in the shower, of course he's gonna rummage through there. How could he not? When it's so easy? Besides, he's learning more about you. And, in turn, that'll help him take care of you better. Why wouldn't you like that?

He pours through your bag and digs out all your books and papers, reading over them all. He finds your handwriting cute, and some of your essays are actually interesting to him. He even finds some of the notes you pass back and forth to Michael during class.

He throws those away.

But oh what do we have here? Your sketchbook that you keep so heavily guarded. Why do you feel the need to hide things from him, little bun? Don't you trust him?

Shifting through the pages though, he quickly learns why you didn't share all the pages. Your art is somewhat stylized, but he can tell what those sketches are of.

Of him.

Pages and pages of him.

Oh bunny. Weren't you supposed to be focused on your lessons? Why are you doodling him in the margins of your notes then, hm? Did sir really occupy your mind that much? Oh sweetie, if you missed him that much, you were always welcome to come to his office. Just because you weren't in his bed didn't mean the two of you couldn't have some fun, not at all. Sir knows plenty of fun games he could show you there. You know you're always welcome, too.

Before he can delve too deep in his fantasies of you, you snatch the sketchbook out of his hands and slam it shut, your face beet-red. You had snuck up behind him after your shower, him too lost in his filthy thoughts to pay enough attention.

"What are you doing?" You ask him, feverishly with your sweet little eyes wide open.

He can't help but smirk as he steps closer to you, causing you to lean up against the kitchen counter with your sketchbook behind your back, "You know exactly what I'm doing, little bunny."

"I-It's not fair to look through my things like that... That's mean."

William chuckled as he placed each of his arms on the counter, pinning you in place as he leaned in close.

"Oh, sweet thing. You should know by now that sir doesn't ever play fair. Tell me," he said, only loud enough for you to hear, "When did you draw all those, hm?"

"I... " you trailed off, your gaze falling to the floor. William was quick to remedy this, using his large, strong hand to point your chin back up at him. His grey, lust-filled eyes staring into your timid ones.

"Answer me, bunny. Use your words like I taught you to."

Your face as getting hotter by the second, "It was... While I was bored doing homework..."

The brit tutted, "But that's when you should be paying attention to your studies, is it not?"

"Y-Yes... It is, sir."

William's other hand found its home on your waist, "But what were you doing instead, little one?"

He already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you say it.

You bit the inside of your cheek, "I was... I was thinking about you. And that I missed you, sir..."

The older man let out a low groan from the back of his throat, a wash of pleasure rolling down his spine. Oh you just loved him that much, didn't you bunny? He just made you feel that good, didn't he? Where that's all you could ever think about? Only him? Precious rabbit. If only you knew just how much he thought of you.

William's thumb pressed against your bottom lip as he studied your face, the tightness in his pants becoming hard to ignore.

"Oh, bunny," he cooed, "whatever will I do with you? I'm not sure whether if its appropriate to punish you or reward you."

The brit's thumb slid across on your lips as you spoke.

"Th-that's for you to decide, sir."

His smirk depended at your words, the pressure in his pants too hard to ignore now.

Perhaps you could help with that, wouldn't you?

"I suppose it is, isn't it? Good bunny. On your knees, little one. Now."

[maladaptive-jcb]

Chapter 1: Icebreaker

Jamie x female!reader fanfic

(fluff, safe for under 18)

Summary: Reader is an independent artist who lives on her own in a small town and meets Jamie, a musician, in an art studio where their budding relationship formed through shared interests of different forms of art.

Warning: There will be talks about trauma and PTSD from domestic abuse and dissociative episodes throughout the story.

A quiet groan. I can hear it from two seats away from where I’m sitting. It’s almost been a month since I started this painting class where I saw it opened two blocks away from my apartment a month ago. I thought it was a perfect way to ignite my old artistic passion again. Lucky for me, it's a budget studio class, which means I don't have to break my savings just to fill up some of my free time. I work at a local bookstore and currently renting a small apartment. I'm doing good, but not amazing while living as an independent girl in this town.

I hear another sigh coming from him. Jamie first came into class around the second week I started here. I remember it was a slow day in class. I was wondering if I should even be here in the first place until I heard footsteps coming in. The way he walked in with his tussled blonde hair and iridescent eyes captured my attention immediately. Ever since then, he never missed a class. I decided to stick around after all.

“Jamie…Jamie… What did I say?” Mr. Hayes, our art teacher stops behind him as Jamie is struggling with his work. “Always check the proportions. Sorry,” he says in a low tone voice. Subtle English accent. Disgruntled look is forming on his face as he tries fixing his painting with more acrylic. Mr. Hayes pats on his back with approval and goes along to check his other students.

He's not really the worst in class. I’ve seen his work, he did a lot of good paintings except that he hates small details and proportional work.

Should I help him more? I mean, we barely talk in class aside from the occasional “Hey,” from time to time. In fact, he barely talks to anyone in here.

He shoots up a look to me.

Shit.

I didn’t realize that I’ve been staring at him for a while.

“Y/n, you’re doing great just don’t forget to clean up your finishing touches this time,” Mr. Hayes distracted my train of thoughts. “I will. Thank you, Mr. Hayes,” I give him a quick nod. I've had such a great experience so far with Mr. Hayes. He'll find a way to make one-on-one teaching lessons feel so personal to you. He's also very patient with all of us considering most of his students came in with zero prior art knowledge. I think that’s why Jamie has improved so much in just a short period of time.

____

The morning is still early when the class ended and I'm now on a hunt for some caffeine to keep my day going. The café is just a five minutes walk down the road. It's called the Aroma Mocha. Since it's an hour away until my shift starts at the bookstore, I decide to have a brisk walk under the cool weather, taking it all in.

As I walk in, there are already five people in line ahead of me at the counter. I wait in line as I soak in the café’s inviting atmosphere. I see a few people inside with their quiet talks to each other. Another middle aged woman reading her book while sipping on a hot coffee. A dark haired teenage girl in the slightly hidden corner with headphones on while sipping on her cold drink in hand. I can't tell what it is but it makes me crave for an iced latte. In another corner, there's a tired college student staring straight into his laptop screen with the fast click-clacking sound of his hands on the keyboard. Just the right amount of calm and busy here, topped off with the aroma of freshly grinded up coffee beans filling up the air. It’s just such a nice morning to start. I've been observing everyone that I haven't noticed anyone getting in line behind me until…

“Y/n, right?”

I turn around and met with a tall lanky figure, silver rings on his fingers, blonde hair framing his cheekbones perfectly in the dim lights of the café.

“Oh yes. And you’re Jamie!”

He smiles. “Yep. Fancy meeting you outside the class.”

“I hope that’s not a bad thing.”

“Not at all. Pleased, really,” his eyes twinkles.

I don’t see the disgruntled, contorted face he always makes when painting in frustrations. He seems… sweet.

“Next!” The barista calls out to me.

“One iced latte, please…” I turn to Jamie. “…and whatever he’s having.”

“Coffee. Black,” he leans forward to respond. His subtle breath warm on my neck. “Thank you."

“You’re welcome,” I return his smile.

I’ve wanted to approach him so many times in class and chickened out. Crazy to think that this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.

Our drinks were done at the counter after a few minutes. I grab both and hands his coffee. He takes it, fingers brush against mine.

“I’ll see you again, soon?”

“Yeah. See you again, y/n.”

He smiles and raises the cup of coffee thanking me again. I nod and quickly turns my face towards the floor hiding the warmth that's rising to my cheeks. With one last wave, I walk towards the door to leave.

“Wait!”

A surge of relief going through my body. Somehow I was hoping it wouldn't just end there.

“Do you have time to sit with me?” he asks.

I hold my wrist up and check the time on my watch. My shift is not starting until 40 minutes anyways. How long can it be to sit and talk with Jamie?

“If that’s okay,” a little hint of pleading in his voice.

“Yes, of course."

____

We sit across each other at a table near the big window. His long legs brush against mine from time to time. Now that I'm actually closer to him than before, I can see his blue eyes sparkling even brighter under the sunlight streaming through the window pane. He's a little quiet at first. His fingers knotted with each other around his warm cup of coffee. It's almost as if he's wondering what to talk about. Eventually, he tries to ask me more about myself. Trying to set aside the sudden surprise of actually sitting with a new person on my day, I let myself cool down and let the conversations flow on their own. His eyes wide, yet soft as he looks at me attentively every time I tell him little things about myself. I just thought it was just out of politeness but I notice that he's actually listening to me when he chuckles and nods along to my stories. It's like every word that came out of my mouth hung around the air and he's just absorbing them all in.

"You know it's very interesting to finally hear all about the teacher's favourite in class," a teasing tone in his voice.

“Oh, stop. But you know, I've wanted to talk to you in class for a while as well."

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me?” he smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

My heart does a somersault. He noticed that?

“Oh… I uh,” my cheeks starting to feel a little warm.

He winks.

“So what brings you to the class anyway,” my attempt at changing the subject.

“Oh, umm…” Jamie purses his lips as if he's thinking about the question itself.

"I wanted to try something new in this town. I just moved here and happened to walk by the studio and… well here I am."

“I see. I’m guessing you came all the way here from…”

“London. Yes. The accent, I know,” he laughs. Hand brushing through his beautiful locks.

“I just needed a change. What about you?”

“Oh I’ve lived here for a while. Two years now. Trying to prove to my parents that I can be independent, you know?” I tell him, quickly brushing the question off.

He nods. “You’re working?”

“Yeah. Do you know Bookworm Shack? It’s a block away from here. In fact, I should be getting into my shift in like 15 minutes now.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen it. Come on, I’ll drive you,” drinking the last bit of his coffee before he gets up.

I didn’t have time to process it. I haven’t sat in a car alone with a man for so long. Not since-

“You’re coming?” his head tilts towards me and scanning my eyes, hoping for a hint of agreement to his plan.

“I guess, there's no harm in that. Thank you."

“The least I could do for that coffee,” he gives a friendly punch to my upper arm and grinning ear to ear. Every bit of his face lights up when he does it. It feels nice to see him in a more cheerful mood than usual.

I'm not one to know much about cars. Truthfully, all cars look the same to me. If anyone would name a model of a car, no image would pop in my head at all. However, I am able to tell when a car is luxurious and expensive. Jamie's car is exactly that. At least better than the one I drove back in my hometown. It was an old car that my dad gave me after he finally saved up enough for a new one for his own. It was a little beat up but I loved it just the same. It didn't have the leg rooms as I have right now sitting in Jamie's car though. I know it wasn't the best car but it took me where I needed to and it was comfortable enough for me. Looking up at Jamie from the passenger's seat makes me feel a little shy. What do you do when someone told you to make yourself comfortable? Do they actually mean it or do they just want to be polite? Maybe I'll just play it safe and tuck my feet together and not mess with anything in here.

"Relax. The leather seat is not gonna bite you," he snickers after noticing me shifting carefully in my seat.

"Yeah, but you might," quickly giving him the same retort energy.

"Wow. Hurtful. Although, you'll never know. Hope you already got your rabid shot."

His face stays on the road but his eyes peering sideways towards me while smirking at his own joke. A giggle start escaping from my mouth and he finally lets out a big heartful laugh I've ever heard from him.

I feel myself being a lot more relaxed in my seat after that. We continue our conversations along the ride but it was cut short when Jamie pulls over in front of the bookstore. A little disappointment in my heart when I realized that I have to say goodbye to him now.

As I’m getting out of the car, he asks, “What time your shift ends?”

“6 pm. Why?” I respond back through the passenger’s seat window.

“Sounds like a good time for dinner. I’ll pick you up,” he winks again and drives away.

“Wait, I-“ Oh there’s no use. He’s gone.

_____

Chapter 2

Note: Hi! I'm new on here and I'm sharing my writing for the first time on the internet and thought that it'd be nice to start on here. I don't know if this will take off or not but I'm excited for everyone to read it. Do let me know your thoughts and reblog if you like it. If it starts picking up then I will continue posting the next chapter :)

[wesavegotham]

Batman vs Robin #4...spoilers and a long rant under the cut.

Waid continues what he started doing in the preview and wastes Bruce's inner monologue on listing the martial arts moves they are doing. What is he trying to tell us with this? They know a lot of fighting techniques, what a revelation. The parts not about martial arts aren't that interesting either.

When I got to this page I thought for a split second that Bruce was finally going to reflect on his relationship with Damian a bit, but it's the most basic, surface level deep stuff you could possibly write. And instead of picking something meaningful from their history (Bruce gifting Damian Titus, Damian giving Bruce one of Martha's pearls he searched for in the sewers, the scavanger hunt, their trip to the moon, Bruce reviving Damian...) the artist gave us...this. Heartwarming. You can really feel how much writer and artist care for the relationship this book is supposedly about according to the title.

Also apparently obligatory Talia bashing.

I believe Bruce saying "he's my son" here was supposed to make me feel something, but it's all just so damn basic. He's Bruce's son, and? He doesn't seem to like him as a person and Damian being Bruce's son has never stopped Bruce from letting Damian down. Badly. If Damian being his son truly meant anything their relationship wouldn't have gotten this bad.

If anyone feels happy that Bruce's injuries from the last issue didn't get ignored here, let me assure you, despite it looking like it for a few pages none of this is going to matter later.

(I'm going to skip a page here, it's just more martial arts move and Bruce thinking that Damian can counter all of his moves. I'm really not sure what Waid wants to tell me with this. Am I supposed to think that Damian is a real threat? But Bruce already said that he could easily beat him under normal circumstances. Pride? But again, he's doesn't seem that impressed? Idk. I don't get Waid's Bruce.)

It's not compelling.

Also, as if anyone would even think for one second DC would let Bruce seriously be beaten by Damian. DC makes Damian lose against characters that picked up martial arts like two weeks ago to hype them up or to "teach Damian a lesson"

(Another uninteresting page of Damian punching Bruce and talking about killing him I'm going go skip here.)

Because why should Damian ever be allowed to have a win?

Also, we could have gotten a cool scene of Bruce rescuing Talia and talking about saving their son together, but instead Waid chose to go for the boring "gotcha, Bruce always pulls something out of his ass" route. I swear to god, DC writers are so afraid of letting Bruce make mistakes or be in real danger that it's infuriating. It's so boring to read Bruce. I know this twist is coming, I'm just always hoping they don't do it because it's such a predictable twist at this point.

Yay. Batgod😒

With the power of the helmet Bruce simply breaks Nezha's control over the possessed characters and teleports most of them home.

Damian immediately begging for forgiveness from Bruce kinda irks me. Especially when I consider how Bruce talked to Damian in the first issue and how he thinks about him...it just all gives me the vibe that this book is trying to "put Damian in his place". It's all so...patriachal? In a really bad way.

Bruce starts fighting Nezha. Bruce is batgod and Nezha is boring.

Talia and Damian go after Mother Soul, but Mother Soul can't really do anything on her own, so they beat her easily. She's also boring.

Nezha continues to be generic.

Bruce's line could have been really cool and touching. If Waid had built up to it. But at no point did Bruce reflect on anything Damian said to him during this book or think about how his mistakes as a father landed them in this situation, so when and how did Bruce reach the conclusion that this was actually about being the father Damian needs?

Because to me it feels like Damian was only in this as an excuse to draw Batman going up against demons.

*sigh* I feel like I read this dialogue 100 times already.

Bruce is still fighting Nezha, but is too cool to use magic correctly, so Nezha is able to pull the helmet off his head and the helmet breaks and lands in the lazarus pit, releasing all the magic it accumulated into it. If Damian had pulled something like this he would be laughed at for his arrogance, but this is Bruce so instead Nezha just rants about how great Bruce is:

You know, for one second I thought Damian was actually allowed to something useful for once in this story and save Bruce, but of course it doesn't go that way.

Instead Bruce ends up saving Damian. Why actually talk about their relationship issues if you can just throw in a heroic sacrifice to resolve it all?

Do you know how many times DC has "killed" Bruce this year? He'll be fine.

Also, Bruce had basically nothing nice to say about Damian or Talia this entire book so seeing them care so much about his death is just...guys, he's not worth it.

King Fire Bull arrives and starts fighting Nezha because he apparently killed his real parents. I don't care, they are both generic.

Black Alice revives Bruce with the lazarus magic running through Nezha's veins. I guess that is why Bruce turns into a demon in Lazarus Planet.

Nezha flees, the humans run to the plane Bruce arrived with and King Fire Bull blows up the volcano that spews the contaminated lazarus pit water all over the world.

Uff. I just feel like Waid has absolutely nothing interesting to say about Bruce and Damian's relationship. There is zero reflection going on. This book only exists to make Bruce look cool and everyone else is only there to give him opportunities to do so.

[astronnova]

Okay but I wouldn't purely blame LMK for the flanderization of Tripitaka. All the flanderized depictions in fan works I've seen are from people who actually read the book and made fan art of the original source. And both versions of Trip develop into better people, anyways. Also, it's a little hurtful to say that most people don't analyze what they read, no? Granted, it's a kids show so much of the fanbase are minors, but like...kids will be kids.

my bad that it came across as hurtful! thats not my intention, i meant it as more of an objective viewpoint on something that's become widespread online and irl then just an insult to people.

unfortunately, a lot of people within the uhhh lets say 15-early 20s range dont... dive as deep into literature as they should. you ever heard of that one meme about "the door is blue because the author liked the color blue" ?

this is just one of many, and you couldnt go anywhere online without seeing somebody make this kind of joke. schools dont even really teach deep analysis of literature recently (i should know, ive been in multiple english lit classes and most of them don't dive as deep as you could and should. the only one that does that is with my most recent professor), and this stuff happens in highschool. yknow, during students most formative years of learnin stuff.

kids shouldnt just get a free pass on choosing to ignore the main point of a piece of literature because "kids will be kids". literature is the backbone of critical thinking, most people develop that skill through reading, and stories have a greater purpose, especially classical ones, than just "heres a show that provides constant stimulation with no reason".

i probably sound a little crazy or something, and im not articulating this as well as i could due to me taking *checks notes* two melatonin like 30 minutes ago BUT anyway tldr for that section is that a lot of people just dont dive deep into literature and its true meaning. a lot of folks like only looking at the surface level bits because its so much easier and simplier than writing an 1000 word essay about the importance of a certain theme within a piece of classical literature or something

steering this back to monkie kid,

the thing i explained above i think is one of the sources as to tripitaka, and sun wukong's, flanderization within the monkie kid fandom. instead of looking at the characters with the original intent of the religious text, its looked at as more of a "well he did X so he's a bad person". its too literal for a religious allegory. trying to apply strict "real world black & white morals" onto characters like this just wont work and will end with every character from the original jttw with the label of "bad person".

i could go onto a whole rant about how the recent decline of deep analysis of literature is the reason so many people seem to prefer "childrens cartoons" (because of the easier to understand morality/lessons) over, say, classical work or hell even some modern classics. this isnt an insult towards ppl that like "kids cartoons" btw, like look at my whole blog its just about cartoons LOL . i think theres more than just that one reason as to why people, at least online, gravitate towards childrens cartoons (likely because theyre more fantastical rather than trying to cater towards "adult gritty realism" and are animated, which is hard to find nowadays with all this "live action remake" junk), but i do think its one reason.

again, my bad if i sound like an ass or something or if i dont make sense, its like 12 am and i shouldve been asleep like an hour ago but im easily distracted LOLOL . but yeah, i think the source of the flanderization is just people misunderstanding the point of the original text and trying to apply modern storytelling conventions to something thats meant to be a big ass metaphor for enlightenment

[ettawritesnstudies]

Now that beta reads will be starting soon (can’t wait btw!!!) what are you gonna work on next?

Not sure really! I'm taking a break right now to finish prepping a DnD game that I'm running and to do some art projects, but I'll probably start outlining either End of the Road or Vilotta's Adventure. My logic here is that my next book following Runaways should be A) another standalone, which rules out Storage and the Laoche Chronicles, B) something that overlaps with the target audience for runaways, so either contemporary speculative fiction or middle grade, and C) An Actual Book I have mostly developed so far, which rules out the webcomic and multimedia projects which would be way more labor intensive to produce.

End of the Road fits the speculative fiction vibes because it's got ghosts and takes place in modern day America, and in Runaways, the kids start and end in modern day America even if they don't spend most of the book there. It's a closer overlap in genre, and similar themes about leaving home/going home/finding a home, grief, responsibility, growing up, and discovering freedom, even if it's written for an older audience.

Vilotta's Adventure is middle grade so it would fit the same young audience, and it also has a stubborn, clever protagonist who leaves home to go on adventures, but unlike Runaways, it's set in Renaissance Italy! This was the first book I ever wrote when I was 14, and I still have a copy of it! I actually stole my copy back from the library lmao. Long story. Anyhow, I need to reread and do a massive rewrite, but I still think the idea of an inventor princess helping Leonardo Da Vinci collect paint pigments is a really cute idea and "Women in STEAM but make it Historical Fiction" is a very easy pitch. You have aerospace engineering, art history, the chemistry of color, political intrigue, and architecture lessons disguised in an adventure "collect them all" kind of plot as Vilotta has to fly from city state to city state and avoid getting kidnapped.

I'm just so torn between these two ideas and I'm really having trouble deciding!

[salsa-and-light]

"I was going to good faith read the post they made until I realized it was longer than MY rants by a order or magnitude."

I find you readiness to abandon good faith to be disturbing.

But then I guess you don't spend much time reading academic papers, a lot of those are just thinly veiled arguments anyways and it always takes more time to expose a lie than it takes to tell one.

"I'd show the pictures here in the books but Tumblr would smite me if I did. That alone should be proof that they are NOT ok for kids."

Every version of this argument is stupid

And fine, I'll do it myself.

Prepare for artistic and educational nudity.

It's a sex-ed book, frankly I think that people think that child-level educational materials about sex are inappropriate(or worse pornographic) is a sign of a cultural disease.

I can assure you that anybody with even passing experience in the study of medicine or biology has seen real naked people in books.

Many of those textbooks would also not be allowed on social media, that doesn't make them inappropriate.

[These are all from It's Perfectly Normal by the way, one of the many books being commonly banned]

"And yet that is the argument you are making is not the case."

If you're trying to say that I'm arguing that nudity is not pornography then that's correct.

There are hundreds of nude paintings and statues in this world commissioned by churches.

Therre are thousands of nude statues, reliefs, gargoyles, fountains and even paintings that are outdoors in the full view of the public; some of which have been there for hundreds of years.

There have many periods in Western history where sex negative attitudes were so prevalant that adultery or premarital sex was punishable by mutilation or death and they still had public nude art.

If you think that nudity is inherently pornographic, especially in an educational context, then you are hundreds of years out of touch with reality.

And if you get turned on by a cartoon nude demonstrating correct condom use, then that's your business and you can keep it to yourself.

"Fact is that "Gay kids have ever right to learn about sex as~" Nope. I'm going to stop you right there."

Oh I'd love to hear the non-homophobic explanation for this.

[hint: if there is one you didn't give it]

"Sex education is the means of which to teach PROCREATION. Nothing more nothing less."

Well, when you want to rejoin us back here in reality let me know.

Because there has never been a culture so bad at sex that they've needed external help with procreation.

In fact, any culture who's comfortable enough with talking about sex to even consider sex education wouldn't need to be told how to have children.

And better yet I would love to hear how you think putting a penis into a vagina gets turned into a semester long course.

As someone who's actually designed a curriculum, I can tell you that's not going to work.

Now if you're ready to join us back here in the real world, here is a real-world 44-page curriculum from a Christian primary school in lovely Oxfordshire.

Which obviously covers more than just how babies are made, in fact more of it has to do with puberty and building healthy relationships. If you check the school website you'll find that this course is for year six students approximately equivalent to American fifth graders or 10-11 year-olds, but I've also buried the lead a bit here because this is actually the third sex education unit that this school provides, the others occurring in year 5(9-10 yrs.) and year two(yrs 6-7).

The year two curriculum actually includes full and correct terminology for genitals, which is a faculty that many adult Americans lack.

It also addresses very basic gender stereotypes; which is, again, a faculty that many adult Americans lack.

Also those very long documents that I suspect you won't read only covers 3-4 lessons. I can't speak for whether this particular school's version of these course extend past this but I think that in general we should both know that some schools, especially with older student do have full-length courses.

This is a brief overview of a British "secondary" school's sex ed curriculum, the years of both would be considered middle school in American terms.

And as you should be able to see, it covers STIs, motivations for sexual intimacy, the differences and relationship between sex and Love, gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception, risk factors and sexual health clinics.

And I will reiterate, almost all of these students are younger than American "high-school age".

And they're getting a more comprehensive sex education than many people.

So no, sex-ed is not just about procreation.

I grew up in the rural South, it was incredibly sex-negative, I didn't know anything about how STIs worked and frankly I was shaky on the mechanics until I took responsibility for my own ignorance and fixed it.[FYI part of that included seeing real penises on YouTube, because Youtube recognized that it wasn't porn]

But even I had to listen to an hour long lecture from some guest speakers about the intricacies of consent and rape.

I know so many people who were completely convinced that contraceptive pills protected them from STIs and that herpes was going to kill them. I have a friend who was very sexually active and had an HIV exposure risk and didn't know that there was any treatment to stop HIV from becoming a death sentence.

As I mentioned far above, the ignorance is astounding and highly dangerous.

And if not during sex education classes then I would love to hear where you think it would be more appropriate to have discussions about gender, sex and sexual health.

"And they make is so scientific, as to make it boring."

And yet you're still worried about nudity.

But regardless, you can't simultaneously argue that something is porn and that it's boring.

"Sex education is not about teaching you how to HAVE sex."

That's generally true, but you're the one talking about instructional mechanics so I'm not sure how you reached that conclusion.

Sex-ed does cover a lot of other how-tos though.

Correct condom usage, what to do in the event of a rape, how to get consent. These are all things that I was taught by a weird stranger in a tornado shelter on what I imagine to have been a Wednesday; I feel safe in assuming actual sex-ed classes have more.

Maybe the hospital that my sister works at would have fewer incidents if people knew that they have two anal sphincters.

"And the pictures they use are normally very detailed internals of the male and female parts."

I don't think internals are going to quite get the message across do you.

Knowing where the urethra is isn't exactly going to tell you how to use a condom.

"There is zero point in teaching gay sex because it can not be used for procreation."

That's gross and homophobic.

It's also wrong.

We don't teach children sex-ed so that they don't mess up procreation; I'm sure that there are penty of mothers and mothers-in-law who would be more than willing to fix that problem in the one in a million chance that the couple can't figure it out.

No. We teach sex-ed so that people can be informed about the things that they are dealing with in their own lives. Basic things, like their own body.

I don't work in the hospital, but I hear from the people who do, do you have any idea how many times I've heard about children who are being sexually abused and they don't even realize it's happening?

Or worse, the children do recognize that somethings wrong but because they only know cutesy euphemisms no one recognizes that what they're hearing is actually the desperate cry of a scared child who needs help.

Even in an ideal scenario where no one is successfully abusing them I don't think you're aware of just how beneficial it can be for a child to know what sex is, to know that they can say no, to know what puberty is, to recognize the signs of abuse, to know where to go if they need help.

A person could go their entire lives without ever having sex and they would still benefit massively from even the most basic of sex-education.

"WHAT YOU are advocating for, is teaching sex for purposes of pleasure."

No, that's not true. You're making that up, imagining it really because I never said any such thing.

If you want my honest view on the matter, I don't think we should be enforcing any ideological purpose when it comes to sexual education. Telling anyone, adult or child, the reasons that they "should" be having sex is completely inappropriate, verging on monstrous.

But I also don't see any reason to lie to children and pretend that pleasure isn't a part of it, that it's not one of the motivations that people have for doing it.

This is very cause and effect, X might cause a pregnancy, Y might lead to an infection, Z might be a sign of abuse, W might cause pleasure.

You're treating pleasure as if it's some grosse act of hedonism to talk about when really it can be just a clinical as anything else.

..

I don't have any desire for an particular ideolgy of sex to be taught or pushed, franky I think the idea that there ever could be a single accurate ideology of sex that applies to everyone is preposterous.

You're confusing information with suggestion or command.

I have no interest in telling people how to spend their money but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to explain the concept of a retirement fun.

And I certainly don't see you squirming about it.

"And also I saw that quip about, "repeated an instance so that's the level of intelligence we are working with here". So writers make mistakes. WOW what a gottem moment."

Writers make mistakes yeah but I think the average typo is on a different level from purposely writing out the word "Pedophil" misspelled in giant letters on poster board before presenting it to a crowd.

Of course the real intelectual blunders were more in the parts where a grown woman was choking back tears because her highschooler read the word "dick" in a book he chose to read and in calling this an act of sexual assault.

And then calling it pedophilia with a giant misspelled sign.

That's a several layers away from a typo, and I think you know that.

Or at least you would know that that if you read what I wrote which is a bit up in the air the moment.

"We are not about teaching KIDS sex for pleasure. We actively avoid it if we can because if you say, "Hey kids this is fun, but DON'T DO IT now." what the hell do you THINK they are going to do?"

I defy you to find a single sex-ed curriculum that says "this is fun but don't do it now".

You seem to be confusing me with some sort of cartoon villain.

Truly it's too much.

Meanwhile here in reality people are literally saying that having sex before marriage will kill you. Notice how the real thing is significantly worse than your worst nightmarish imagination?

If you tell people the truth about what sex is they will be able to make informed decisions about it.

And believe me, I'd much rather that we live in a world where most teenagers are not having sex, but I'd still much rather a teenager make an informed and reasonably safe decision to have sex then have someone in their mid-twenties or thirties to come back from their honeymoon, raped, hurt, infected or even pregnant with little to no idea why or how, let alone while being ignorant of what they were involved in in the first place.

Also just to remind you of some afore mentioned statistics since we are operating in reality, it doesn't really seem to matter what we do or say, teenagers are having sex already.

You're acting like this is some crazy hypothetical, like if we explain sex to people they might tarnish the nation's perfect records of 0% teen pregnancies and STI transmission.

We already live in this reality, I believe we should act accordingly.

"And you know the answer. That's why you advocate for it."

Assuming my motivation.. that's stupid of you.

Expand your worldview maria, not everyone is operating out of the same assumptions that you are. I'm certainly not.

"But what concerns me is that you want to teach sex for pleasure"

Like I said, I never said that, if you want to fight strawmen I can recommend some good corn-fields. Ever heard of Craig, Iowa?

"is that you want to teach sex for pleasure to people who are gay but not to those who aren't."

And I definitely never said that I don't know who you're talking about girl.

"And if you tell me you want to teach non gay kids that too, I have BROADER questions."

Well if you're done fantasizing then I can tell you what I actually think.

I think that a good sex-ed course should cover a broad spectrum of sexuality for all of its students. Because as general reminder bisexuals do exist, and as an additional reminder Queer people shouldn't have to out themselves in order to get an education.

And some people might not realize their sexuality until much later or be unsure of it, I don't think that total ignorance of another form of sexuality is good for them either.

If that means that some straight people have to learn about gay sex so be it.

I fail to see the issue with potentially straight people knowing how gay sex works or with cis people knowing how gender transition works.

Call me crazy but I think understanding people who are different than you is a good thing.

"But something I have run across recently is the idea that gay kids, especially gay boys "Know what they want" and therefore can consent to sex."

Well.. that's not my argument now is it.

Frankly that idea is the closest to something that could be used for sexual predation of minors that I've seen in the many long months since puritans remembered to care about censorship again.

It's also vaguely homophobic but.. it's not your argument so I won't press.

You have your own baggage anyways.

"And this feels VERY remnant of fucking NAMBLA."

Well, this is again one of those moments, because I am both beautiful and curious, where I will do some research.

..

..

How.. is it that you know about a possibly dead pedophile organization from the '90s but you don't know what's involved in a sex.. ed.. class.

What kind of radio are you listening to? And by radio I do mean propaganda, what are you into that's giving you this weird asymmetrical knowledge?

Regardless I've already told you that I never made any such claim and in fact I agreed with the assessment that it's an idea ripe for sexual predation.

But while we're on the subject, boy wouldn't it be great if young people were taught to identify forms of abuse.

If only there were a class for that...

I don’t know guys maybe there should be a don’t say gay bill since gay sex is apparently all the left wants to talk to children about.

[rumor-imbris]

are you mentally ill or just so alone?

i mean, dude your words are even good sometimes but for a non-existig pixel guy to build a whole blog about feels sick

sorry but someone had to say it!

I know my kind of contents can generate doubts and scepticism, so maybe, considering curiosity, it might be enough to legitimate your question, which I won't restrain to answer.

I surely had my harsh times and still have high-lows unfortunately, just like anybody else here meaning to carve a quiet space out for creativity and sharing; but, for your information, nothing ever suggested nor I was ever diagnosed a serious mental illness, luckily.

Furthermore, let me ensure you, I'm one of the luckiest people on planet Earth, as I have a perfect partner loving me and making my life a real romance every single day. Every woman should have a man like mine (ah, he's made of flesh and bones, of course, and can cook like a pro U.U). Also, I can count on a great family and so many close friends near and far always supporting me, and a lovely cat. So, NO. I'm not alone, at all.

I rather wonder how alone You must feel to send an ask like this, instead of spending time with someone you love or doing something that makes you happy.

You read some words, see a picture, a gif or whatever post and you think you figured out the person behind it. But you don't; you can't.

Glad to know you consider my words "sometimes good", so do I! xD Many things do not exist in the proper materiliastic sense you intend, but that doesn't mean they cannot give you emotions and feelings. Leonardo's Monna Lisa picture is just a bunch of mixed colours on a small canvas. That smiling lady isn't alive, she isn't even a person; still it's the most iconic and admired work of art in the entire human history.

In conclusion, if you find my blog monotonous because it's one character-centered (let's say Connor-centered!), let me remind you that you and all those thinking the same are not obliged to visualize my posts or follow me. No gun is behind your heads, so... if you don't like what you see or find it lame, just leave.

As hurtful as it may have felt in the first place, I must thank you for your question, for it made me reflect about everything precious I have and should be more grateful for, when I lose myself in the darkest moments.

One last thing. Remember there's a war going on today. A War. No lesson you're learning on your school book about the past. It's happening now. People are dying, suffering, losing everything just because someone decided to claim the right to tell them how to live and what to be.

Be kind, always. Especially to yourself. It all starts from that.

[theomengirl]

~ GOM as a father ~

[notes] ~ hello! i' m sorry for not being active for the past two weeks because i was battling writer's block, and since college has started it also got in the way of my writing. the requests are piling up and i'll try to work on them as soon as possible ;;; here's a hc of your fav gom boys while you wait. thank you! ♡

Kuroko

the most normal out of the 6.

he’s really appreciative and compliments his child on something they do.

the type to give a sweet morning call and kisses them as soon as they wake up.

later at night, he would read them books and stay longer before their bedtime just to have a simple talk. “what was your favorite part of today?”

also assures them that he's all-ears if they're bothered by something.

no matter how bad his day went, he would never show it in front of them.

you and Kuroko always stick a note filled with encouraging words on their lunchbox to boost their spirit.

sets a healthy lifestyle to help with their growth because he doesn't want them to take after his low stamina.

he loves to assist when they have an art project and he'd display the artwork at home while giving a pat on the head. "look at this awesome work made by you."

Kise

the moment he officially became a dad, he cried for a whole day.

one night, you felt exhausted and Kise wasn't on the bed the moment you woke up. then you found him at the room next door, snoring on the carpet with scattered diapers while your child was sleeping soundly in their crib.

hangs family pictures all over the house and he puts his child's shots throughout the years. he's also active on social medias to boast about his little family.

he's clingy and would give big hugs and kisses at random times, for no reason at all. often argues about who love whom more.

a little sad when they refuse to accept his affection. "dad, stop it. i'm older now." "doesn't matter, i'd still hug and kiss you every day even if you grow grey hair."

spoils them with toys until there's barely any space to keep them, which gaining him a whack from you. "don't buy toys anymore." but he just couldn't look away and came home with another one.

brags about the magazines which he featured on. "doesn't your dad look handsome here?"

he takes his child to his photoshoot site once in a while and the people there would squeal.

his heart breaks if he sees them getting frustrated or sad. "hey, you have your mom and me. you'll always be our biggest pride so let's figure out together, alright? now should we crash at your favorite restaurant?"

gets excited when they do. he's also good at role plays, sometimes a cop, a prince, a monster, etc.

Midorima

a little awkward and confused as how to act natural when his child pretend to shoot him or he plays a prince.

"mom, can you play with me? dad's terrible." then he'd call Kise to ask for some advice.

often doubts himself whether he's a good father or not, but that thought got washed out after his child came home saying he got an A for his essay; 10 things i love about my father. reading it before he leaves for work has become a routine.

bonds over basketball. he'd teach his child how to shoot threes and encourage them until they get better.

he makes sure they keep lucky items with them every day.

totally lost his cool and was panicking when his child got a fever. you tried to calm him down but he instantly rushed to the hospital, only to return home again because the doctor said it wasn't serious; just a usual fever every kid runs to.

the type to set a curfew.

might push them in term of academics, but not too hard. and he would always praise them no matter how bad the score they get. "it's just a number. i just hope you understand the subject so it'll be an advantage for you in the future, you can always do better, because you're our son/daughter."

lowkey jealous if the Shutoku uncles get close to them and glares at Takao because his child seems to favor him.

Aomine

the troublemakers in the house, especially if he has a son. a carbon copy just in a smaller size.

definitely passes on his basketball legacy and they would lose track of time. you had to call them multiple times over dinner only to get responded with "5 more minutes!" and lasted for another hour.

tells them the importance of teamwork no matter how good they are in basketball. he doesn't want his child to repeat his mistake in the past.

"why are you worried over the exam you just finished, when the scores aren't out yet at that? honey, tell the kiddo what place i was during high school," he said as he laid down on the sofa, watching tv while picking on his nose. "your dad was in last place."

he would give a lesson to whoever tries to pick up on or belittle his child.

try to position himself a friend instead of a parent so they'll not be afraid to open up to him.

calls them with pet names he comes up with or he just go with "oi kiddo"

lots of skinship and he often buries them under his large body or traps their head under his shirt when he's being playful.

"don't grow up too fast. i'll be sad, you know?"

Murasakibara

despite his habit of unhealthy eating, he restricts his child to do the same.

"no more candies." "but dad, you had it more than me. can i, please?" "no. you're still growing, your teeth will rot." "so can i eat as much as you once i grow up?" "still no."

the happiest when the school invites parents for a one-day activity together. the other children hover around him because they find his purple hair amusing.

you were amazed by how much he had matured after having a child compared to before the marriage.

rewards them with snacks and sweets if they achieve something.

loves to give them teddy bear hugs.

Akashi

sets good examples that his child would follow; a man with manners.

pays full attention to their education. at the same time he takes things slowly and is aware that his child isn't a machine that should excel at everything.

"please do tell me if you ever feel like the lesson doesn't suit you. talk to me, okay?"

says "i love you" or "you're the greatest thing ever happened in our life" whenever he gets the chance.

tries his best to spend some time with them despite his busy schedules as he doesn't want to lose track of their growth.

takes them along to his business trips, classical concerts or simply playing basketball with the uncles from Teiko in hopes that his child will learn naturally by watching.

he would never demand them to be perfect like the doctrine he received from his father, because his child's happiness is number 1 priority above anything else.

teaches them leadership skills and how to earn other people's respect without hurting them.

overall, he avoids to repeat his past by being more considerate and affectionate to his own child which he treasured so much.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Underestimate Me (Chapter 3)

A slightly longer update to make up for the tiny one a few days ago. Plus I got sucked into this and would have finished it last night but it was already 4 and I had a decent amount to wrap up.

We finally get to see Skylar and Fred together and boy is it cheesy. I make no apologies.

Warnings: Fluff

word count: 5.4k 

Taglist:@thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrypotter289​  @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @things-that-start-with-f @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @darlingdelacour

The Art of Dancing in The Rain 

“Alright I think that’s enough for today.” Fred bellows over the crowd. A couple people groaned at his words. “Oh save it” He laughs as he starts to take off his gear. George starts to help clear the training gear from the rink. Pushing the dummies back into their holding cell. 

“What do you think of them?” George asks as he leans against the cage. 

“Of who?” Fred asks. 

“Prospective troops. Find one you trust yet?” Fred just shakes his head. 

“But the tournament hasn’t really started yet. This is just training.” George claps a hand on his brother's shoulder. 

“One will show eventually.” They both sigh. 

“Not that we have a choice.” 

The two finish cleaning up in silence. 

“Well that’s all done. Want to walk back up?” George asks, brushing the dirt on his hands onto his pants.

“You go. There’s someone I’m hoping to bump into.” Fred ruffles his hair. 

“Does this someone have a name?” He says with a wink, jabbing an elbow into this twin's side and grabbing him around the shoulders.

“Abigail.” George whistles. 

“That’s a new one for sure.” He looks around a few times. “Well have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“That’s quite a small list.” They both laugh before George gives him a wave and starts to head back up to the royal families part of the castle. Fred looks back before heading up to the main part of the estate. 

“Funny running into you again.” Fred says to the girl running around the corner. She freezes, stumbling slightly at the change of speed,  and gives him a look so frightened it's almost laughable. After a few heavy moments she seems to remember herself and straightens up, fidgeting with one of the frills on her dress. 

‘Is that..” He points to the girl in front of him. “One of Ginny’s old dresses?” He has to fight back a laugh. She looks out of place in it, the dress an ugly pastel blue that doesn’t suit her at all. She just nods her head. 

“Apparently I didn’t have good enough clothes for the palace and Minerva found something that fit.” She ruffles the garment again. “And now I look like a little girl.” She shrugs and Fred can’t help but laugh. A full body laugh that makes the corners of her mouth turn up in spite of herself. “I’m gonna ignore the fact that you're laughing at me because I did too when I saw it.” She chuckles softly at her own joke. 

“As much as I love these run-ins. I am late for a meeting.” Abigail mutters before giving a low bow. Fred chuckles again at her small mix up and gives her a small curtsey. 

“See you around.” He says as she starts to walk past him. 

“Seems like it.” She calls over her shoulder. A small part of Fred can’t help but help a small part of him that hopes he sees her a lot more. He walks back to his room with a little more swing in his step. 

As the door clicked closed the small chatter in the room died down. She immediately felt multiple sets of eyes on her, she felt her cheeks heat up.  

“Ah! Abigail!” Fleur's voice calls from one of the chairs in the room. The blonde girl pats the chair directly next to her. Shaking off the nervousness, Skylar slowly walks further into the room. The stares seemed to have died off slightly at Fleur's greeting, small chatter started to pick up in the room again echoing off the high ceilings. 

When Skylar sits down she is greeted by a hand sticking out. She notices the girl, a halo of curly brown hair almost the color of her skin. She has warm friendly eyes. 

“Hermione Granger. Pleasure” She says as Skylar takes her hand. 

“Abigail Green.” The name still feels uncomfortable in her throat. 

“I haven’t seen you around the castle before, are you from around here?” Hermione asks. Skylar just shakes her head. 

“I was invited for the ball, I think. Why I couldn’t tell you.” She gives an awkward laugh at the small joke. “But when the royal family sends you a letter.” Hermione chuckles and nods. 

“Well you must have gone to some important school to be on the royal families radar?” She looks her up and down. “Not Hogwarts, obviously, I would have noticed you around.” It’s like you could see the light bulb go off in her head. “Oh, Fleur.” 

“Unfortunately no. I’m from a small village right outside the kingdom.” Skylar says with a shrug. Hermione seems to be a tiny bit dejected. “But my father was a trainer for dueling so that might have something to do with it?” She quickly adds when she sees the girls face fall ever so slightly. 

“Ah yes of course. I think I remember reading something about the Greens in a book somewhere..” She mutters mostly to herself.  

“All right stop hogging the new girl.” Another girl from across the room calls out to Hermione with a smile. 

In a matter of moments she is shaking hands with all of the girls in the room, names and backgrounds being thrown around. Honestly, it’s making Skylars head spin trying to match the name to the face, the face to the voice, and the random bits of information on top of that. 

Spending time with all the ladies was a quick way to spend an afternoon but it was draining. If it came down to a day of training with Mace, she wasn’t really sure which one she would prefer. 

It became time for the girls to go to their individual activities and lessons which ended up leaving Skylar in the room with just Fleur and Hermione, eventually the two girls do have to excuse themselves and it’s Skylar in the room, holding the book that Hermione had loaned her to read. 

When she looks at the clock it’s still fairly early in the day, barely past morning. The benefit of getting up before the sun to have to train. There's still so much of the day left for anything. She sits and opens the book before hearing someone open the door. 

She looks up from the page she’s reading and is greeted by the smile facing of Prince Fred. 

“What a surprise seeing you here.” She says glancing up. 

“Oh in my own castle.” He shoots back. 

“No in this room.” She laughs. “It’s a big castle and what are the odds?” With that she closes the book. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were looking for me?” 

“Looking for you? Why would I do that?” 

She shrugs. “You tell me.” 

“Walk with me?” Fred says, still standing in the door. 

She puts the book in her lap and looks at him, examining for a moment. 

“I have nothing better to do. Why not.” She stands up and bows to him. Fred curtsies again. Laughing at what seems to be their new joke. She walks over to the door and he gestures for her to lead the way. 

They walk in silence for a while. Both just basking in the silence. It was a comfortable silence. One that didn’t really need to be filled. They walk down the hall until they get to a split in the hallway. 

“My room is that way.” She points towards the left. Fred nods. 

“Mine that way.” Pointing the other way. She nods

“Well then I won't take up any more of your time.” She bowed one last time

As she starts to walk away Fred feels the words come out before he can stop them

“Do you want to go on a walk of the gardens?” He quickly puts his hand over his mouth, like he can catch the words after they came out of his mouth. She turns around slowly, like she doesn’t believe her ears. 

“I beg your pardon? I think I might have something wrong with my ears.” She says, cupping around one of her ears. A playful smile hinting on her face. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. 

“Well I’ve noticed you always going from one meeting to the next and I don’t think you’ve actually gotten to see how beautiful the um..” He clears his throat again. “The grounds are. So who better to show you the castle than a royal.” 

“Do you give all the new girls the royal tour.” She says as she crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. The smile is still hinting on her face. 

Fred decided to take the bait. “Well only the pretty ones of course.” He instantly feels the tips of his ears heat up. 

“Oh and am I one of the pretty ones now?” The sound of her giggles comforts him. 

“Well….” He drags out the word before sucking his teeth. “the amount of new girls is pretty limited around here so I guess by default.” 

“Wow.” She says pushing herself off the wall. “You really do know how to flatter a girl. Consider me won over.” She dramatically puts her hand over her heart and pretends to swoon. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“It’s not a no.” She sticks her head up in the air. Fred laughs and lightly holds his hand in front of hers. Softly she looks down and she seems to hesitate for a second before placing her palm against his. Without thinking against it he ducks if head down and gives her a small kiss on the hand. 

“Please. I’d like to show you around Abigail.” His voice is soft, like talking to a cornered animal. What am I doing? His inner voice is screaming at him but right now he’s acting on instinct. She takes her hand back just as slow as she gave it. Her eyes seemed to linger on the spot where his lips touched. 

“Alright, enough showing off your majesty.” Her voice sounds a little dazed. 

“Is it still ‘not a no’?” He says, raising an eyebrow to her. 

“If it’ll get you out of my hair then sure. Why not?” She raises her hand in a slight surrender. 

“But, if I may speak so frankly, you should go freshen up. You stink.” She pinches her nose to emphasize her words. He can’t help but laugh but also knows she’s probably not wrong. 

“Well if that’s what the lady wants.” He gives her a small bow, “I’ll meet you here in, let's say an hour?” He asks.

She nods. Fred notices how she’s biting her lip to keep her smile in. 

“Then I guess I’ll see you in an hour. Now shoo” She waves him off before walking away. He can’t help to notice the same small bounce he normally gets after talking to you. He looks at her retreating figure until she turns the corner and goes out of sight. 

The moment she is out of his sight, she pulls up the bottom of her dress and starts to sprint down the hall. Running down to the apartments. She gets to the outside of Fleur's door, out of breath. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she raps on the door a few times. 

“Fleur it’s Abigail. Please?” She says after a few seconds of no response. 

“One moment!” She yells through the door. Skylar hears some rustling around and swears she hears another voice. After a few more beats, Fleur opens the door. 

“Um..I’m sorry if I’m interrupting..” She looks at Fleur's face and the slight smug of her lipstick. “Something. But I need a favor?” 

She raises an eyebrow. Skylar groans and looks at the ceiling. “Look, don’t make a big deal out of it but i have a da..” She sighs. “I have a..” 

“A what?” Fleur seems more intrigued now, smiling. 

“A date.” she squeals out. Putting her hand over her eyes like a school aged girl. 

“Oh you should have led with that!” She squeals back and grabs her hand, pulling her into her apartment. 

“You’re not planning on wearing that?” Fleur questions while looking her up and down. 

“What’s wrong with it?” She ruffles the skirt and looks down. 

“It’s beautiful but wearing a little girls dress on a date isn’t the smartest move.” Fleur laughs at the look that crosses her face. 

“Never thought of it that way.” 

“And that’s why you came to me for help. I’ll grab you something. Sit.” She barks and points to a stool in front of a mirror. 

A few minutes pass and Fleur comes back in the room with a dress folded over her arm. 

“I think this color will look amazing on you.” She tosses it to the girl sitting down and she stumbles to catch it. 

She stands up to try to unbutton the dress she is currently wearing. She struggles to get one open and Fleur rolls her eyes and huffs. 

“You really are useless.” She laughs and walks over to help her get into the dress. “Ah you won't be needing this. Most dresses from France have them built in now.” Fleur says tapping on the back of the corset Skylar is wearing. 

“Thank Merlin. I hate this thing.” She sighs out as Fleur unlaces it and slides it over her head. The dress quickly replaces it and Fleur makes quick work of the laces. 

“There.” She says as she does the last button on the back. Skylar takes a glimpse into the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize herself. The dress gives her more shape than she has ever seen herself have. Cutting into her hips at just the right places and the panel in the front gives the illusion that a hand might be able to wrap around her waist. She notices her chest sticking out just a little bit more than she’s used to and tries to pull it up to give her a little more modesty. 

“Leave it.” She says casually, at the look she gets from skylar she laughs. “Give him something to dream over.” Skylar looks offended at the comment. 

“I doubt anyone will be dreaming over me but I take your word.” Skylar mutters with an uncomfortable laugh. 

“Sweetie, look at yourself.” She comes up behind the girl and straightens her shoulders back. “You’ll do just fine. You just need some confidence. And while I’m talented, that’s something only you can give yourself.” Fleur gives her a small smile. “And if you can’t do that. Hold your head high, if you trick them you can sometimes trick yourself along that way.” She sighs and shakes her head. 

Skylar turns around and looks the girl in the eye before throwing her arms around her middle. 

“Thank you so much! I owe you.” She whispers to the girl. Thanking her for the dress and for the kind words. 

“Oh don’t think I forgot about our little agreement. But for now, go.” She holds her at arm's length. 

“Oh and I never asked but who is the lucky man?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t freak out,” She takes a deep breath and tries to swallow the smile that crosses her face at the thought. “Prince Fred.” Fleur's eyes go wide. 

“You’re kidding me!” She says in a high pitch voice. “Here for two days and you already have caught the eye of a Prince and you have the nerve to think you aren’t pretty.” Fleur gives Skylar’s shoulder a little playful shove. 

“You must have something, Fred normally keeps to himself.” A deep voice from Fleur’s room calls. Skylar looks over to the source of the voice and she can’t figure out if she should freeze or bow. She starts to kneel down but a laugh stops her. 

“Absolutely not.” Bill chuckles out. 

Skylar looks over to Fleur who is staring at King Bill like he is the last star in the sky. 

“I see we have more to talk about but I’ll leave you two back to yourselves.” She says to Fleur with a small smirk. Bill laughs again before retreating back into the room. 

“The king?” Skylar mouths to Fleur who only gives her a big smile and a simple shrug that says “can you blame me?” 

“Good luck.” Fleur says to her in a friendly tone, her mind seeming to be elsewhere. 

“Thank you again Fleur.” Skylar whispers as she walks to the door. 

Looking at the large clock on the wall Skylar realizes she is about ten minutes early. 

“Someone looks eager.” A voice says from seemingly nowhere, making Skylar jump. 

“Merlin, you scared me!” She says putting her hand against her chest. Skylar takes a second to recover before falling right into their normal banter. 

“I could accuse you of the same thing.” She laughs. To which, he just rolls his eyes. 

“Come on, I’m dying to see what’s so special about the garden that I would require a first hand tour of it.” Skylar says eagerly, holding her arm out. Fred chuckles again at the slight role reversal. He wraps his hand loosely around her extended arm and they head to the door arm in arm. 

The hedges alone were enough to take away Skylars breath. All meticulously groomed into twists and turns. Making the whole border along the walkway look like waves following along besides them. Skylar was pleasantly surprised to see moss and vines wrapping themselves into the hedges, making them look like they could have actually grown that way. The diversity gave it a certain magic that reminded Skylar of their tiny overgrown garden that her mother used to tend to. It’s a warm homey feeling. They follow the path of randomly placed paving stones that seem to sparkle under the sunlight, what little still hangs in the air as clouds start to swirl in the air. Fred seemed to not notice how the air had gotten the slight heaviness that tells rain is on it’s way in. Not wanting to ruin their nice walk, she decides to not point it out. They just walk, seeming to have no destination set. That is until they get to a clearing with a gazebo. 

The smell is the first thing she notices, which is shocking considering the amount of color that the area has. Never in all of her life had Skylar seen this many flowers. It looked like a scene from out of a story book she would read when she was younger. So many different colors and smells. Hydrangeas in various colors lined where the bushes used to be like a little wall, wildflowers in beautiful pastel shades tickled the bottom of her dress, apparently this area didn’t get groomed like the rest of the grass and she was thankful for it. She noticed honeysuckle snaking its way up the one structure in this little clearing, making it seem like it belonged there just as much as the flowers themselves. 

“This is mums doing. She had the hydrangeas planted when Charlie was born. Then the roses with Bill.” He points over to the trees in the furthest corner. “The trees came for the rest of us. Apple for Percy, twin lilacs for George and I, willow for Ron, and an orange blossom for Ginny.” He laughs to himself. “My parents got married in this field when it only had the wildflowers, that’s when that was built.” He pointed to the shelter. “She wanted it to be a place to show how much we have grown as a family.” 

“It’s beautiful.” Skylar says reaching out to touch one of the large hydrangeas. Fred glances over to her. 

“That it is.” He walks over to the apple tree and plucks two from a low hanging branch. 

He calls over to Skylar, “Catch.” And he’s surprised when she does without a second thought. 

“Nice one.” He says, wiping off his own apple on his shirt. “Here let's keep walking. There’s a lot more to show you.” 

Skylar turns around and looks over him. “It’ll have to do a lot to top this place.” Fred just smiles and she joins him by his side, taking her arm again as they continue back to the path. 

The moment they do, a loud clap of thunder can be heard and that’s when the sky decides to open up and start to downpour on the two of them. The coldness of the rain against the warm temperature of the day makes Skylar shriek out. 

“Let’s go back inside!” Fred yells over the sound of the rain. Skylar just pulls on his arm, stilling them. 

“Come on you’ll get all muddy.” She keeps them frozen. Both getting drenched. 

“A little dirt never hurt anyone. Come on it’ll stop soon.” She laughs out, pulling on his arm so he spins. 

“You’re a strange one for sure.” Fred mutters to himself. Not really being bothered by the rain. An idea pops into Fred’s head when she sees her spin around him. He grabs the arm he formerly held, lighty, and pulls her close enough to wrap his hand around her waist. 

“This okay?” He says, hovering his hand an inch away from her waist, not wanting to assume he’d have permission. She gives him a sceptical look but nods her head anyways. He guides the hand that was still holding the apple to his shoulder and she drapes it across his back. 

He starts to waltz them around the grass, as best as he could with her clearly not knowing how to. “Here just let me lead.” He says when he notices her stiffness. 

“I’ve never danced before.” She says like she was confessing to a crime. 

“That’s why you follow me. It’s simple once you know what you’re doing.” Fred responds in the same tone. He gives her the same instructions his teacher gave him when he was learning to dance. Right, back, left, back and before he knew it they were dancing across the grass. He was so caught up in the moment he didn’t even notice the rain was starting to get lighter, before stopping altogether. He spins her around before grabbing her waist again and dips her down low to the ground. A few of her curls had sprung loose and just barely touched the grass. He pulled her back up with a bit too much force and she quickly grabbed onto his shoulder to stop herself from crashing against him. The apple that was in her hand goes flying across the lawn and he swears to himself. “Sorry about that.” He says before noticing just how close they are held together. He lets go of her waist and hand before muttering. “I’ll go grab that.”

With a swift curtsey to her he goes off to retrieve the lost apple. 

He finds it had rolled under a brush and grabs it quickly before jogging back over to Skylar. He gives a bow, holding the apple in his palm. When she goes to grab it, he snatches it away right before she makes contact with it. She groans. 

“Okay funny. Give it.” She giggles. A wonderful sound he deems in that moment. He holds it back out for her and the same thing, snatching it away at the last second so her hand grabs at air. Making both of them laugh this time. They do this a few more times.

“Fred. I’m not kidding, give it back!” She says through a fit of laughter. 

“Oh this little thing? Well if you want it so badly…” He trailed off before giving her a look, and just like that he took off. 

“Are you kidding me?” She shouts after him, before running to follow him. She struggles for a little bit, heels not agreeing with the soft grass after the rain. Luckily she didn’t lace them very tight and was able to slip them off pretty easily. With that she chucked the shoes, making a small mental note to grab those later to return to Fleur, hiked up the last few inches of her borrowed dress and started to really chase after Fred. Unfortunately, he already had a bit of a head start and was a good few inches taller. But Skylar spent years playing these types of games around the house. Granted, it had never been quite this much fun but the same principales still applied. 

Fred took a moment to slow down to look for her, expecting to hear her struggling and out of breath after chasing him. Before he knew it, he felt someone jump onto his back and a pair of arms wrapping under his shoulders. The surprise mixed with the slippery ground made him lose his footing, falling onto his back and something solid behind him. 

All he heard was a soft groan underneath him before he rolled onto his front, revealing a slightly frazzled looking Abigail. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one sweeping you off your feet?” Fred chuckled as he got himself up. Still laying on her back, Fred’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat just slightly. The chase had caused her cheeks to flush just a tad, and her hair framed her face in an unusual way as she stared up at the sky. 

“Need a hand?” He says, standing over her to offer her help up. Before he knew it, he felt his foot get kicked out from under him and he was laying opposite her on his back. 

He could hear her laughing up a storm as he processed what she had just done. He crawled over to besides her and joined her in looking up at the sky. The clouds had just started to part, letting a small amount of sunlight peak through the grey sky. 

“This is my favorite part of a storm.” She whispers before taking a deep breath. Her eyes close and Fred turns his head to look at her. He can’t help but wonder what's going on in her mind. To say she was unlike any girl he had never meant would be one, be the most cliche thing he had ever said, and twi, be wrong. She was so unlike anyone he had ever met before. Being around her was as comfortable as being around George. 

It took him a little bit to notice her eyes had opened up and she was studying him with the same curiosity he only guessed was on his own face. 

“What’s your favorite part?” He rasped, voice seeming to get stuck halfway in his throat. She smiles widely at him and his whole body melts at its warmth. 

“The smell. The way the clouds are still rolling across the sky, not exactly satisfied but content.” She takes a deep breath that makes her eyes crinkle up. “Just the way the whole world seems to be taking a collective breath and things seem okay for a moment.” 

“Cheesy.” He responds with a laugh. With that she sits up and scoffs at him. 

“I just give you the most poetic and mushy thing I think I’ve ever said and you dare pretend to not buy it.” She leans on her elbows, hair almost tickling the ground as she leans her head back to look at him. 

“Hey not my fault you don’t know you audience.” He lets his head fall back as he laughs at her hurt expression. After a few seconds of her not joining in, he notices her sitting still and intense look on her face. 

“Oh crap. Look I didn’t me..” 

“Ha” She bursts out. “Got’cha.” She finally laughs. “If I wanted someone to buy my sappy words I would tell it to the other ladies.” She gives him a tiny smile that she exhauerates by scrunching her nose up with it. 

They just sit in the grass for a while, saying a few things here and there. Simple questions with simple answers. It isn’t long until it starts to get a little chilly out and Abigail shutters at the drop in temperature. 

“It’s getting late, it’s probably almost dinner time. We should head back in.” He says, getting to his feet and brushing off the little bit of dirt before noticing the mud on his pants. 

He holds out a hand for Abigail, which she takes this time and he helps her to her feet. 

She looks down at her dress and groans. “Oh Fleur is going to kill me!” 

“Hey, a little dirt never hurt anyone.” Fred said with a smile at the earlier words spoken by the girl. She sticks her tongue out at him before returning the smile. 

The two walk back up to Skylars apartment, her hand wrapped around his arm. They swing back around to the place where she abandoned her shoes and sees them in better shape than her dress. 

They walk at a slightly slower pace, both seeming to not want to rush this part of the night. They finally get to the point where they are standing in front of her door and it’s time to say goodbye and go their separate ways for the night. 

The two just stand, looking at each other while they wait for the other to say something. For once, it’s a comfortable silence, like they are currently in their own little bubble and speaking would suddenly pop it and let the real world in. Not saying anything Fred takes her hand again and brings it up to his lips, looking her in the eye while doing so. 

Skylar suddenly feeling a little bit braver than she should, pulls her hand and him up to full height before twisting her hand and resting it against the side of his face. His skin is softer than she thought it would be, a slight bit of stubble could be felt starting to grow right against the skin of his lower cheek. She finds herself looking at his lips and Fred notices after a few seconds. His hand goes up to grab hers and he starts to pull her closer.

The door right in front of them swings open and that’s all it takes to pop whatever was left of their bubble. 

“Oh.” A surprised voice calls as the two snatch back their hands like a child caught in the cookie jar. Both of them are standing in front of a very surprised Minerva, both red as red can be. 

“There you are.” She looks Skylar up and down before clearing her throat. 

“I think I can handle it from here your majesty.” A while he is a whole head taller, she still manages to look down her nose at him with a stern face that tells him he is being dismissed. 

“Right.” His hand goes to his hair. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” Is all the girl manages to say before she is pulled into her room by her forearm. 

George is sitting and waiting on the couch of their shared living room. 

“Well well, look who's back.” He says slinging one leg over the high back of the seat. Fred must still look a slight bit starstruck because when he sits down next to his brother he snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Merlin, what did she do to you mate, you look out of it.” 

Fred just rested his head in his hands. “I wish I could tell you.” He just sighs “Something feels right with her.” 

“I get it. Kinda. I guess.” George swings his leg back over, making Fred have to duck to avoid getting a foot to the head. “Just be careful. We’re about to be some deep shit soon.” 

“I know.” Fred groans. 

“I’m not saying don’t be happy obviously,” He holds his hands up in front of him. “Honestly, it’s good to see you so happy.” George nudges his brother. Who now seems to be lost in thought. “Come on, don’t get all broody. That’s my job.” Fred doesn’t really react. “I’’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything.” He takes a pause trying to think of how to save his brother's good mood. “Tell me about her.” That catches Fred off guard and he can tell by his expression but slowly that dreamy look comes back and he starts telling him all about her.

Reblogging because the tag list got fucked

Taglist: @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrypotter289 @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @wand3ringr0s3 @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @darlingdelacour @heart-of-tempered-steel @things-that-start-with-f @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

[angellesword]

Silver Dust

Summary: Yoongi proposed to you and you're contemplating whether to say yes or no.

Pairing: Songwriter Yoongi x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, and fluff.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings/ author's note: I wrote like a whole ass song using Cypher pt.4 beat lmaooo, kissing, minor smut, mention of rape, abuse, killings, and corruption.

<<< The first meeting >>>

The first time you met Yoongi's eyes wasn't really that special.

There was no sign of your heart skipping a single beat, if there was, you're 100% sure he's not the reason behind it because 1) you pretty much believed it's just the effect of drinking three shots of espresso in one sitting. 2) You were damn nervous since your prelim grades were already out.

You didn't even feel any butterfly in your stomach, nor did your world light up—and this, to be honest, was understandable, especially when Yoongi's eyes were dead as fuck. You figured that if it wasn't for your shared seven am class, he would probably still be lying in bed.

"The professor said you're my partner for this project." Even the first time you heard his voice wasn't special.

If there's one thing that made Yoongi Yoongi, it's his monotonous voice. At first, you thought he just didn't like the idea that you two were stuck together to work on a project. (Again, it's understandable) You also found it ridiculous that your professor actually paired you with a stranger.

Well, it's not like you knew Yoongi. Unless knowing his full name counted. But really, it's inevitable since the two of you went to the same classes since freshman year (you're a senior now) apart from that, almost all your professors never failed to voice out their adoration for him.

You first heard his name when your history instructor made it very clear that Min Yoongi's works would be his "standard" when it came to grading your individual projects. In short, if Yoongi got an A, you and your classmates should also either get an A or an A+ or else, you're considered 'failed.'

It’s kind of fucked up, really. Most of you knew that Min Yoongi was a monster when it came to collecting As. Unfair. All he did during class lectures was sleep and yet, he still managed to be number one.

Huh. It must be awesome to be God's favorite.

There was also this one time when one of your professors, Mr. Bang, cried when he asked Yoongi to read his essay in front. The smart boy was reluctant at first. He despised exposure, that's for sure. However, the professor's so persistent that Yoongi obliged just to make the annoying instructor shut up.

You're actually glad Mr. Bang managed to persuade Yoongi. His speech about finding yourself and being happy made Mr. Bang and almost everyone in your class cry. Yoongi transformed into a completely different person the moment he started his speech. Monotonous Voice? Gone.

You figured that yes, your heart didn't skip a beat when you first caught his eyes, but boy did your heart hurt when those simple words leaving his mouth turned into a piece of art.

<<< Your one brain cell >>>>

The second time you met Yoongi's eyes was in front of his house. The two of you decided to work on your project at the school's library, however the place was loaded with students cramming their paper works and you just couldn't bear to hear another person aggressively typing on their laptop anymore. You were sick of it.

"Uh, hi?" you awkwardly smiled at the blond man in front of you.

You weren't quite sure how to react when he was just staring at you blankly. Yoongi's lips were pursed together and that alone made you uncomfortable.

"We were supposed to meet at the library..." He raised his brow as if he wanted to know how the hell did you know where he lives? And were you a fucking stalker?

"I..." You instantly trailed off when he narrowed his brow more. Man, he sure was intimidating. The lack of spark in his eyes made you wince. The man in front of you had thick, low set brows—making them appear almost completely straight. (Poker face alert)

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat before trying to form a coherent sentence.

"There...people. I mean, the library is packed with uh, people."

"So you just decided to show up in my house?"

His question made you quiver. This was such a wrong move. Of course you couldn’t just knock on his door like this; you two were not even friends!

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know any other place and I..." You heaved a deep sigh. "I saw your friend Jeongguk and he told me where you live—“

"Right." He cut you off by opening the door wide. Of course it had to be Jeongguk. That little shit really knew how to annoy Yoongi.

"Holly peed on the couch so there's no way we can work there. Is my room okay to you?" Despite not seeing his face, you instantly knew that Yoongi's question was directed at you. He was leading the way inside his house and you're behind him, quietly following where he's going.

Yoongi's house was not that big, but it's a lovely and comfortable place. Unlike your dorm, you felt at home here. It's probably the indoor plants that made the place more alive. You suddenly wondered if he's living with someone. Did the love of his life stay here? Or did he have a roommate? You're adamant that he lived alone; otherwise all these plants would probably be dead.

You weren't really a judgmental person, you're rather logical. Yoongi slept during class hours; he couldn't be bothered by moving a single inch, too. You guessed that he hated any form of activity and maybe, that included watering plants.

You were about to ask him if he lived alone when your voice had been overpowered by loud, boisterous bark.

"Oh! Hello there, little guy..." A giggle escaped from your lips when a small dog went your way to lick your exposed legs.

You squatted in front of the puppy so you could pet his furry head.

"Holly, no!" Yoongi called the attention of the brown poodle, but it couldn't care less. The dog named Holly still continued to ask for your affection.

"Holly!"

You almost whined when Yoongi took Holly away from you. You're sure the puppy hated it too. But Yoongi told you that his pet needed to learn his lesson first. The naughty dog really peed on the couch right after his bathroom training. Yikes!

Yoongi let you inside his room after your little encounter with Holly. The vibe of his room contradicted the overall theme of the house, but you had expected it to be this way nonetheless.

His bedroom walls were painted dark blue, too dark it's almost close to black. There's nothing much in his room except a single bed, a study area with lots of technical devices, and oh!

Amusement danced in your eyes when you noticed different manga books on his shelf. You didn't think that Yoongi was the type of person who would dwell on such things, but what really caught your attention was his album collection.

"You like Epik High!?" you couldn't help your enthusiasm when your eyes found the band's album called Shoebox resting on the black metallic shelf near his bed. Damn. Shoebox was your best-loved album of all time! You liked all songs by Epik High, however nothing could ever top the said album for you. Your ultimate favorite song had to be Amor Fatti. That song slapped, though its meaning was often misunderstood by many.

Yoongi only spared you a few glances from the moment you showed into his house, this time, however, he was looking at you intently and for the first time, you saw him smile, a shy one at that.

"Yeah...they're the reason why I write songs..." He whispered, too soft you barely heard it.

You even blinked. Did you hear him right?

"Oh, you're a songwriter?" You flashed a loop-sided smile that made Yoongi's cheeks red.

"Uh, well...it's just what I like to do during my free time."

You nodded and hummed, your eyes were still busy roaming around his room when an idea popped in your mind.

"So why don't we make use of your talent and write a song for this project?" You caught Yoongi's eyes again, but this time, it didn't look dead, truthfully, his pupils dilated when he heard what you just said.

You instantly defended your suggestion.

"I mean, we don't really have a plan, and now we have. I think you're pretty good at it so it'll make our jobs easier. I can sing, don't worry..."

You hated saying that, though you didn't have a choice. You needed to convince him that producing a song would be such a good idea.

Your professor said you needed to make something, anything that would elicit a reaction from him and your classmates. This was a psychology class and your topic for midterm was all about emotions. Mr. Kim Seokjin, your professor, was tired of doing all the talking, especially because your class was unresponsive, so to save his voice (and brain cells probably) he told the whole class that the remaining meeting for midterm would be about his students showcasing their talents that wold, like what you had said, gain extreme emotions from your classmates. It's actually easy except that you're paired with someone you were not close with. On top of that, the presentation of the project shouldn't exceed ten minutes, and lastly, it should be personal.

You spent days thinking about what you and your partner could do, but your brain cells weren't cooperating since you only had two of it, the first one was sleeping and the other only knew the words "Nothing, bitch."

And so now that your former brain cell decided to wake up and save you from your misery of being stupid (even if it's just for good three minutes) you're willing to take it.

Before your 180 seconds ran out, you immediately started blabbing words to convince Yoongi to produce a song with you.

And guess what? Your convincing power must be really good (or maybe you're just as annoying as Mr. Bang and Yoongi just wanted you to shut up too) but hey, at least Yoongi agreed!

<<< Weirdo >>>

The third time you met Yoongi's eyes—well, it's not really the third time. You had actually lost count on how many times your eyes locked with each other. Sometimes, it's a conscious act, but most of the time, it's not. You guys would just find yourselves staring into each other's eyes when you didn't know what lyrics to write next.

Producing a song was not as easy as what you thought it would be. It had been three weeks since the two of you started this project. Yoongi's room had been your workplace ever since. He had the equipment you needed plus it's easier to meet here since your dorm was just meters away from his house.

"My damn throat hurts like hell!" You groaned before collapsing on top of Yoongi's bed.

The past three weeks you spent with Yoongi made the two of you start a beautiful friendship. Admittedly, it's not really beautiful since most of the time; you're bickering at each other. You and Yoongi were so different from each other. He liked starting his work early because he wanted to finish it early. You, on the other hand, were his exact opposite. You're the play now, work later type of person and Yoongi hated it so much. While he practiced delayed gratification, you sat there and ruined everything.

You were always on his bed, cuddling his pet Holly. That's most likely the reason why it's only been two days since you two finished the song. It took almost three weeks because of your procrastinating ass, and now, you suffered. The two of you only had a week before you performed this in front of your class. Yoongi was pissed off at you for the reason that you still hadn't finished memorizing the lyrics and your voice was already strained.

“If I ever see you drinking cold water again, I will fucking drown your ass on that water as I behead you, and then I will freeze your head." Yoongi warned as he joined you in bed.

"Ohhh, morbid. I like that..." You shrugged your shoulders and then you buried your face on his chest—making him groan in irritation.

"You weirdo, get away from me!"

"No..." You laughed because Yoongi was the weird one here. He told you not to touch him or stay close to him, but at the same time, he's wrapping his arm on your waist.

You wondered if this was okay, it's just been three weeks since the two of you had been formally introduced, and yet, you found comfort here. On his bed. In his arms.

You smiled to yourself, yes, Yoongi was a weirdo, but so were you.

<<< Namjoon’s Party >>>>

What you considered as the fourth time you met Yoongi’s eyes was also the first time he called you by your given name.

“You feel so good…” He moaned your name on your neck, his hands were tightly wrapped around your waist—enjoying your body heat.

You suddenly thought if dragging Yoongi into this party was the best idea. Right now, you had no freaking clue how to act. You’re drunk, but not too drunk to not think about the consequences of this night. But damn, you’re just a human. A horny human! How could you possibly stop Yoongi when he’s using his soft lips to paint bruises on your neck!?

You could just push him away and you knew that, though you were also aware that your mind and heart wouldn’t want that, not when you liked what he’s doing to you.

“Namjoon’s party sucks.”

“Just not your crowd, weirdo...” You chuckled. Oh, thank heavens for Namjoon. He was one of your childhood friends and frankly, the song you and Yoongi produced wouldn’t be finished without the help of Namjoon. So when that friend of yours texted you to come to his birthday party, you immediately agreed. Fortunately, you didn’t have to force your one brain cell to wake up just so you could convince Yoongi to go with you.

This wasn’t what Yoongi likesd he hated parties because he didn’t want to talk to stupid people and drunken people were stupid people. Perhaps the only reason why Yoongi was here was because he couldn’t turn down Namjoon—not after all your friend’s genius advice.

“I hate this place.” Yoongi added, he’s now looking at you with sparks in his eyes—or maybe you’re just drunk. Too intoxicated to feel and see anything other than the fact that Yoongi’s already grinding at you.

You huffed; suddenly offended by the clothes you’re wearing. Were you supposed to wear this when all you wanted was to feel Yoongi’s touch on your bare skin?

“We’re here for Namjoon—”

“God, can’t you take the hint?” Yoongi cut you off by pouting.

You blinked. Did this weirdo just pout? And oh, his lips…his lips were hot….hot against your own mouth.

“Yoongi….” You breathed, your eyes were too hazy to see his gummy smile.

“Let’s get the hell out of this place…”

That night, you once again lost count as to how many times you met his eyes. You also figured out that his eyes looked best the most when he’s down on his knees, facing your hips.

<<< The Performance >>>

You were expecting to meet Yoongi’s eyes as soon as you opened your very own one; however panic and fear consumed your whole being that you immediately ran out of Yoongi’s room. You’re too frightened to let him see you that you hurriedly put your clothes on and left his house.

It’s not like it was going to change the fact that you slept with your classmate in Psychology, however, you were scared. Scared to see his eyes back to being dead when just last night, the moon and the stars were there, staring at you like you’re not just a dust in this universe, but the whole universe.

Besides, you had one logical reason: you needed to pick up your costume for your upcoming performance with Yoongi. Taehyung, your designer friend was only available till nine in the morning, so you literally had to run like a lunatic right after you woke up from your cozy sleep on Yoongi’s bed.

Your outfit was perfect. Damn, Taehyung really had a talent when it came to this. Your confidence level was boosted just by wearing the clothes your great friend designed. You thought you’re finally ready to perform the song you and Yoongi produced for one month.

You were so ready, but your heart was not…

Just…where the hell was Yoongi? It had been two days since you last saw him. You hadn’t heard any news from him since you left his apartment the day after Namjoon’s party. Was he mad at you for leaving? Or did he even care?

You had fifteen minutes left before Mr. Kim Seokjin, your psychology professor, marked your grades zero.

“Fucking Min Yoongi, where the hell are you?” You grimaced when your call was directed on his phone’s voicemail.

You had two options: fake death so you wouldn’t have to perform, or kill Mr. Kim Seokjin. (They wouldn’t probably notice if you stabbed your professor on his side since most of them were busy preparing for their own presentations.)

But just as you’re about to resort to your latter option, Yoongi’s familiar scent immediately attacked your nose. You looked back only for you to cancel killing Mr. Kim Seokjin and just choose your former option.

God, how could it be possible for you to still want to stay alive when Min Yoongi was killing you with his looks? Gone was his light blond hair, but you’re not complaining since his now black curly hair was much much better than the previous one.

“Sorry I’m late. Holly peed on the couch again…” His multiple earrings looked too damn good on him. You’re silly; you’re fucking silly because you worried for nothing. Yoongi was still Yoongi, and the sparks in his eyes were still visible.

“It’s okay, we still have time…” You smiled as if the thought of murdering your professor didn’t just cross your mind. Oh well, nothing else mattered when Yoongi was here, right?

Mr. Kim Seokjin said that you and Yoongi would be the last performers for this day, which meant you still had at least half an hour left to stare at Yoongi like a vampire wanting to drink blood. But time flies fast when you’re busy with something. Thirty minutes ago, you were just ogling at your partner, right now, you were in front of the class, spitting fire with your partner.

The first verse of your produced song was rapped by Yoongi. Scratch that, Agust D was in front of you and not Yoongi. Your partner told you that he preferred to be called Agust D whenever he was performing his rap song.

Robber! Robber!

Sorry bae

Killer! Killer!

Sorry bae

Addiction—diction--diction

Sorry bae

“Oh! The court’s case you got away?”

Your partner smirked before proceeding to the next verse. You, on the other hand, stood there to hype the crowd.

You always get away

I’m sorry bae

You smoke cocaine but get away

Justice won’t be served

I’m sorry bae

Everything, everything, everything

Unfair

You were nervous. The next verse was assigned to you. The plan was that you only had to sing the chorus part, though Yoongi had another idea. He wanted you to go out of your comfort zone and try something new. So here you were, rapping.

You commit the same sin

Sorry bae

Your silence they love it

Sorry bae

I see same pigs on the senate

Boring bae

Your vote they bought and they’re not

Sorry bae

Nothing’s new but rich people’s car are

Brand new

Sorry bae

You can’t be illiterate coz they take advantage

Before you know it, you’re one of the reasons

Why innocents are salvage

Politicians know your name

But after the election they act like they don’t know your name!

You and Yoongi both performed the chorus part. It looked like the crowd was enjoying your presentation because they also started shouting and hyping you up.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Youth wake up, stand up, we should fight the state! Brr!

The following verse was rapped by Yoongi again. You took your time to feel yourself as you discreetly watched the reaction of the people in front of you. A whole month of stress and worry seemed to pay off. You even locked eyes with Park Jimin, one of your most-respected classmates; he cheered for you and that was enough for you to successfully perform the next verse.

I wanna get job (job, job, job)

But I can’t get on the spotlight

Yeah I wanna have a good life!

But my parent’s wings are cozy

I just wanna hide

It’s okay I have time

My trust fund won’t end

So I can still live

And breathe while I finish this game

Called being “dependent”

All night, all day

All night, all day

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care!

The next verse was easy to execute since you and Yoongi both rapped it. You were facing each other and suddenly, you forgot that there were eyes watching you. Min Yoongi caressed your cheeks once. You smiled as you sensually rolled your body.

Who plays by the rule?

No one!

Who wants to grab a woman's hair?

Husband!

Yoongi slightly pulled your hair this time. You grimaced, but you still continued rapping.

He has mistress so the wife’s depressed

He forgot about their kids but that’s okay

She can cover up for him like how

She can cover her bruise and play cool

As she says “I love him, anyway.”

You moved away from your partner. Your mood instantly changed as you approached the next verse. This one’s challenging to write. Your heart was breaking as you sang.

The other woman on the street has been pulled

By the stranger claiming she’s wet like a pool

She should be thankful since this will feel like

a dream come true

Lick it lick it right, you can take it, right?

She cried and cried and cried, that should be a sign

But “High five!” he told the other man

As the woman cried, her voice is too loud

So they killed her that night.

You let out your frustration by growling and jumping. Min Yoongi was also lost in his own world as he rapped—raising his middle finger from time to time.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

You’re horny, you fucked up! Go on and hate yourself! Brr!

It’s Yoongi’s own verse again. His mood shifted too. If you weren’t part of this performance, you would probably just stare at him. Goddamn, Min Yoongi had his own way of expressing himself.

Back back to the killings!

Your guns check

Call me when you need a gunman I can kill

Even for a dollar

Hashtag no conscience

I don’t believe in God so hell sounds okay

I’ll be with my gang gang

So hell won’t be boring!

The demon you summon

so money won’t be your worry

Payday, paycheck so I can have that rolex

He pointed the rolex on his wrist. It’s not an authentic one, but that’s not the point. Clearly, he just wanted everyone to see that there were other ways to “look cool.” However, many people still chose to listen and be their own demons.

Click clack to the bang bang

Your time has run out.

Click clack here’s my gun

I’m so high on drugs

I see you as a rat

They can control me with money

So you take these four shots

Your life is like a fruit fly

“I can’t understand. Why is it so easy for them?” This was Min Yoongi’s question to you. He asked this while you two were writing the following verse. He hated a lot of things, though he could forgive and tolerate some of it easily. However, he clearly told you that he could never treat someone right if that person used violence.

Click clack to the bang, you and you

Wait your turn

Shit! You little boy

Come here look at the blood

How? You’re asking me?

I don’t know, you’re a man you should know how

He also told you how much he hated this unfair world. He respected women more than ever, but Yoongi was an advocate of both equality and equity. Why can’t boys cry? Are we robots? These were some of his questions too.

If this is the kind of world we live in

I don't wanna live at all

If I exist for your pleasure

then I refuse to accept this call

You joined Yoongi singing the last verse of the song.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Yo’ human, are you human? If yes then help us save this place!

By the time you finish the song, everyone’s clapping their hands and cheering for you and your partner. You swore you even saw Mr. Kim Seokjin wrote “100” on your paper.

You smiled. The performance was over, contrarily, the attraction you felt for your partner was only starting.

<<< Kimchi and Other Sauces >>>>

The first time you met Yoongi’s pleading eyes was during dinner time. After your performance in Mr. Kim Seokjin’s class, your partner said that the two of you should celebrate this success. Of course you immediately agreed, but that did not mean you were willing to spend money.

“I swear to God, Yoongi…if you ever bring me to a fine-dining restaurant, I will fucking kill you.”

You were not joking. You had student loans to pay so you couldn’t afford to spend a hundred dollar for a fucking spaghetti and sparkling water.

“Chill, you weirdo. We can just—” He stopped mid-sentence because a brilliant idea just popped into his mind.

“What? You’re not planning a yacht dinner date, are you!?” You started freaking out and the uneasiness you felt only intensified when Yoongi smirked.

“Actually, I was planning to…you know…maybe…make you eat my cum.” He simply shrugged his shoulders.

He said it so casually that you just stared at him. Was he serious or were you supposed to be laughing now? You could feel your blood rushing. You were so confused. Excited. Worried.

After what it felt like forever, the staring contest with Yoongi finally ended. He offered his hands and of course, you immediately took it. The both of you rushed toward his big, black motorbike. Yoongi only brought one helmet so he told you to just wear it. The ride to his house wasn’t that far, anyway.

The both of you were in a hurry. Countless profanities were thrown at him for driving hastily; Yoongi even parked his motorbike in a reckless way. Still, you two couldn’t care less, especially Yoongi. How could he? Huh, definitely not after you stroked his cock while driving. That’s really not a smart move, at least not when Yoongi’s mother welcomed the both of you just as Yoongi opened his apartment’s door.

“Eomma! What are you doing here?!” Clearly, your partner wasn’t expecting to see his own mother. It’s pretty obvious since Yoongi’s jaw dropped and his neck was slowly turning red.

“You brat! Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my house!” You knew you weren’t supposed to laugh, however it’s hard to control yourself when Yoongi’s being hit by his own mother while he was trying to cover the bulge on his pants.

“Eommoni! Please! I have a guest!” Yoongi got away from his own mother by hiding himself behind your small frame.

“What—oh!” His mother’s eyes widened when she saw you. She seemed surprised to see Yoongi bring someone. Of course, Yoongi had never brought his friends home. Not even once. At this point, his mother was actually convinced that her son was allergic to human beings.

“I didn’t know that Yoongi is friends with someone as charming as you…” The frightening aura of his mother was completely gone. The older woman engulfed you into a tight, warm hug as she asked your name. You answered her with a smile on your lips.

Yoongi’s mom led you in the kitchen. Actually, you tagged along with her. She wanted to prepare a meal for you and her son, but of course, you couldn’t just sit still and look pretty. As a sign of respect, you needed to help her. Besides, you loved kitchen works, though you’re pretty sure cooking hated every fiber of your being.

The older woman just asked you to set up the table because according to her, she was always in charge of cooking. She also told you to be prepared because you’d surely forget your name once you tasted her award-winning Sam Gae Tang or that chicken soup with ginseng. Hoseok, one of your best friends, made the best chicken soup so your standard was kind of high. For you, nothing could beat Hoseok, but we’ll just have to see.

“Please be kind to my mother…”

Yoongi’s voice and eyes were pleading as he sat beside you. The food was already prepared and the two of you were ready to eat. You were just waiting for Yoongi’s mom to finish washing her hands.

You just raised your brows at the man beside you, clearly not understanding why he’s pleading because really, you knew how to respect elders.

Yoongi sighed.

“My mom is a terrible cook. Her soup tastes like shit, man…” Yoongi shook his head like a traumatized kid. He even bit his lower lip.

You’re about to say something, but you heard his mother’s footsteps, meaning, if you spoke, she might hear you, and so you just kept your mouth shut. You’re expecting Yoongi to do the same, though he just leaned on your shoulders—his eyes were still begging.

“Please, baby? Just put a lot of kimchi and other sauces on your soup to get rid of the awful taste. Can you do that for me?”

You simply nodded. That night, you realized that Yoongi was willing to do everything just to make someone he loved happy. Days, weeks, months, and years passed and you still admired how every time you had dinner with him and his mother, Yoongi would urge you to put kimchi and other sauces on your chicken soup.

At this point, you were convinced you loved Min Yoongi. You had always loved cooking, hell, you were willing to lose your bachelor’s degree if that meant you would be good at cooking, because…

You, just like Yoongi’s mom, were a terrible cook. But Yoongi never complained nor did he ever put kimchi and other sauces on the food you cooked just for him.

<<< Silver Dust>>>>

The first time you asked Yoongi why he liked looking into your eyes was when the both of you were having a staring contest.

The wind was unbelievably cold tonight, clearly, you weren’t expecting to freeze in the middle of a summer night. The annoying weather led you into thinking if climbing on top of your boyfriend’s house’s roof was a good idea. Sure the stars were pretty, but you felt cold. Too cold.

“Do you know the story about the Window and the Mirror?” Yoongi asked out of the blue. He also pulled your body closer to him—making you grimace. The texture of the roof was hard on your back. You shook your head, why did you choose to lay on the roof without any blanket again? Sometimes, your choices in life were really questionable.

“Nah, what happened?” You’re never a fan of stories.

Yoongi sighed. He pulled you closer to him until your face was buried on his neck. Damn. He smelled like smoke and sex.

“Well, for starters, my father left us…”

Yoongi’s words monetarily made you stop breathing. You had known him for years now, but not once did you ever talk about his father. You were aware that his father left him and his mom, though you didn’t know the story behind it.

“My father was a good man and he always tells me he loves my mother more than ever. For the longest time of my life, I believed him. He never looked into anyone’s wife. He never had a mistress, but my father is selfish.”

You just hummed to let him know that you were listening.

He cleared his throat.

“Mom just wants a simple life and that’s why we never left Daegu. This is my home. Our home.” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder tightened, he looked up in the sky—the stars were prettier when you were in Daegu.

“My father doesn’t like to be here, though. He loves the city. He craves city life. Ever since I was young, he kept telling my mom that they should move to Seoul. Abeonim hates farming. He calls our strawberry farm disgusting. Said he should become a CEO and not a stupid farmer.” Yoongi laughed bitterly. He could still remember the way his father said those words.

“And guess what? He fucking did. Min Hyun Sik, chief executive officer of Bighit Company…” Yoongi cackled and you gasped.

Min Hyun Sik was his father? That guy was like the richest man in South Korea! You wanted to confirm this news that he just dropped, however, you couldn’t move because Yoongi’s grip on your shoulders was so tight.

“He became someone with power by leaving my mother and I.” Yoongi repeated as his eyes darkened. He no longer found the stars pretty. For him they were just lights—shining to hurt his eyes.

“He just left a note like that was going to be enough. He didn’t even say sorry. The only words written on those notes are him telling me to go to University using the money he left.”

You bit your lower lip. His grip was really, really tight…

“He wants me to go to college so I can follow him in the city, and so I went to college. But it’s not because I want to follow him. I enrolled just so I can fucking drop out during my last year.”

You furrowed your brow. If that was Yoongi’s original plan, then how…how come he’s a college graduate now?

“That was the plan before I met you…” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder loosens, giving you the opportunity to look into his eyes.

He smiled at you.

“So, the story of the Window and the Mirror?” He offered and you just nodded.

“There’s this rich man—”

“Richer than your dad?” You asked. He laughed.

“Fucking richer than my dad…” He left a chaste kiss on your mouth. You giggled. “Anyway, the man went to see a rabbi, some sort of Jewish teacher. Of course the rabbi asked him what he wanted and the rich man said he doesn’t know what to do with his life anymore.”

“Uh, duh? He should give us money!” You butted in again. Yoongi kissed you once more just to make you shut up.

“Unfortunately, the teacher didn’t tell the rich man to give you money, weirdo. The Rabbi just led him over to the window and asked him this.” Yoongi cleared his throat. “What can you see through the glass?”

“And what’s the response of the rich man, Mr. Min?”

“I can see men coming and going and a blind man begging for alms in the street.” Yoongi answered you. “The rabbi seemed content with his answers, so this time, the teacher led him into a large mirror to ask him another question...”

“What is the other question?” You pressed.

“The rabbi asked him this, baby…” Yoongi pressed his lips on your mouth before proceeding to the story. “When you look in this mirror, can you tell me what you see?”

“And?!” You pressed again.

“I can see myself…”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes. You just wanted to know the sense of this story.

“And you can’t see the others. Notice that the window and the mirror are both made of the same basic material, glass. You should compare yourself to these two kinds of glass. Poor, you saw other people and felt compassion for them. Rich — covered in silver — you see yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Your boyfriend smiled at you.

“My father chose to look in the mirror and I almost did the same. I almost dropped out of college just because I want my father to see that having a degree is useless. But, baby, if I actually chose to drop out, I wouldn’t have met you. I wouldn’t be able to give my mother a better life. I wouldn’t be able to afford to hire a cook and who knows? If I drop out of college, I would probably still be eating my mom’s shitty chicken soup.” You laughed at that.

“I am just saying, I like to look into your eyes because it reminds me of a window. It made me see a lot of things—new opportunities. Because of you, I stopped being selfish. You removed the silver in the mirror; you turned the silver into dust.”

“I fucking love you!” This time, you initiated the kiss.

You kissed Min Yoongi so hard that when you pulled away, he’s desperately gasping for air.

“I fucking love you too.”

<<< The Proposal >>>>

After reminiscing some of your unforgettable moments with Min Yoongi, you finally looked into his eyes.

Yoongi proposed to you and you’re contemplating whether to say yes or no. Your boyfriend despised the crowd, but here he was, down on his knees—shakily holding a ring on his hand.

You examined his face. His lips were quivering, for the first time; you saw how vulnerable he looked. It’s as if his whole life depended on this, and to be honest, it did. Yoongi couldn’t imagine life without you.

“Baby, are you gonna say yes or no?” Yoongi knitted his brows together.

You chuckled. Typical, Yoongi.

“Please stand up…”

Your boyfriend looked at you with confused eyes. His heart started beating so fast he’s very sure it would explode.

“B-But why? Don’t you want to—“ He stammered.

“Just stand up, Yoongi.”

With a heavy heart, Yoongi followed what you wanted. Deep inside, Yoongi was already murdering his friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He just told Yoongi that proposing in a strange, busy city would win your heart.

You two were currently in New York, New York. Strangers were watching you, and Brooklyn Bridge served as your backdrop. Jeongguk said that if Yoongi proposed in a place where no one knew you, then it was a sure win because your mother wouldn’t be able to stop Yoongi. Your childhood crush or ex wouldn't be in the picture too so it was another win for Yoongi. But your boyfriend was starting to regret his decision. He shouldn’t have listened to Jeongguk. What did that dipshit even know about love?

“Yoongi, are you listening?”

“Huh?” Your boyfriend’s train of thoughts were suddenly halted when you spoke.

“I can’t believe you. I just said yes!” You shake Yoongi’s shoulder. It looked like he was still out of his mind and that made you anxious. What if…what if he decided you’re not worth it anymore? What if he didn’t want to marry you anymore?

“Baby, I can’t believe you too. Please give me your hands!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as well. What the hell! You were so apprehensive that you zoned out too!

“We’re both weirdos, do you know that?” Yoongi shook his head after putting the sparkling ring on your finger.

You laughed.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

[paintmearainbow]

What Is Love ?

Love.

Love means different things to different people. Some people say love is making your partner happy and seeing them happy makes you happy . But love, is actually a figment of our imaginations. In a way, love is selfish and makes us lose our independence. You make the other person happy to keep yourself happy, and you become dependent and vulnerable. It's a somewhat like a shared dream. And until one person decides to wakeup, and that dream, albeit fun while it lasted, becomes a living nightmare

1 YEAR AGO

For Harry and y/n; sneaking out of premiers and award shows,buying tacos and eating them at 3 AM was love. For them, love was dancing in the kitchen to Elvis and baking with each other. Love was watching horror movies in makeshift tents, snacking on caramel popcorns and cans of soda; all while making fun of Harry's "those dumb bitches" in the movie. Love was falling asleep in each others arms and reading each other books. It was dressing up as Disney characters and acting out scenes from their favourite animations. It was etheral, perfect. Almost too perfect too be true

People always said "Love will fizzle out. One of you will get bored." Harry and y/n didn't listen. They burned so fast, so bright and didn't realise that their spark too, like all blazed and sparks from lighted matches, had extinguished. One second it was burning so brightly, and the next, it was gone

..............................................................................................

"When was the last time you spoke to him ?" asked y/n's sister.

" A week ago" a distraught y/n replied. "He barely has time to even talk to me on the phone, let alone show me the sights and explore the places with him via facetime"

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes and all the memories flashed through her eyes, like a movie roll, playing over and over agai

FLASHBACK

"Y/N !" exclaimed Harry, the golden flecks in his eyes dancing with joy. Oh how she longed to see him, feel him and be with him in real life , rather than on a screen. Yet she was eternally grateful for Harry for never making her feel left out from the tour experience, he always made sure to show her around, even if it was only on a screen, while giving tour guide commentary in a horribly fake American accent.

"You're in for a treat ! We're going to see the Louvre today. Come on an enjoy the sited with Harry's Tour Experiences"

Y/n couldn't stop laughing.

Being an art fanatic, she giving Harry detailed descriptions of the art, while all he did was turn it inti a joke. His put on accent stood out when he kept saying " Oh shucks ! Here's another painting of a few women and men fighting and eating." He termed an entire style of art; renaissance art as "men and women barely dressed fighting and eating". He made a few sly comments on how y/n would look lovely in that dress. It was so wonderful and each of these virtual trips was marked with his signature end. Going to a park, and eating the same food.

His laughter was contagious and y/n loved it. She wondered how she got so lucky, so blessed to have hazza in her life.

She never thought that this love, would eventually fizzle.

end of flashback

Now she was lucky if he spoke to her for 5 minutes. Even those 5 minutes were filled with her talking and him showing least interest in what she had to say. She doubted whether he even listened.

Today, however was a low blow. It was y/n' bday. had it been any other year. Harry would've made this day perfect. They had been together since they were 18. The first year, he bought her 18 gifts on her birthday. The subsequent year, he got her 19 and so on. He would make her breakfast in bed and wake her up with showers of kisses and a "Good Morning, Happy Birthday Darling."

Today however, at 7 PM , she was yet to have him acknowledge that it was her birthday. She was yet to have any sign of news from him at all. She illusioned herself, thinking that maybe he had interviews to attend.

Her sister, however, tired with y/n's moping, said" You're coming over with your friends to Club 22 this night or else I wont speak to you. I don't want you to spend your birthday moping around"

With great difficulty, y/n was persuaded by her friends to go clubbing. The loud music, the drinks and the dim lights were never y/n's scene. Yet, for the sake of her friends, she fixed up a smile on her face and tried to enjoy, trying her best to forget than Harry's call still hadn't come.

.......

It was 10 PM and the party was in full swing. y/n's friends were drunk, so drunk. Everyone around her was laughing, drinking and joking. Meanwhile, a new disturbing thought had settled in y/n's head. What if he got into and accident ? What if he's really sick ? She was ridden with anxiety and couldn't get Harry off her mind, until that one fateful message from Nezza, her best friend, Harry's PA, through whom they had met, sent her that message. When y/n's phone lit up and she scarmbled to see the text, hoping it was Harry, she did not know it would change her life permanently.

The text was simple. "I'm so so sorry honey; you deserve to know" It was attached with a single file of pictures.

She subconciously knew what had happened. She had seen all the signs, yet chose to ignore them, not wanting to get up from her dream. The reduced duration of phone calls ultimately leading up to a call a month, the regular excuses, coming home late, half hearted kisses, they all added up. For a split second, y/n wanted to think that it was something else; maybe harry was too drunk or had passed out in a bar.

The message to forever to download. It was so slow and painfully excruciating. It was like the calm before the storm. The slow before the fast. The light drizzle before the thunderstorm. When the picture finally loaded; her heart shattered ever so fast. The pain she felt was numbing, yet somewhere in her mind, she was gald that Harry was safe.

There was Harry, his arm around the small waist of the redhead, his fingers entwined in hers. The same fingers which ran through y/n's hair multiple times, were now woven in another's hand. She thought her heart couldnt break more.

Fate was not kind to y/n.

She swiped to see the next picture, and she wasn't sure how, or whether it was even possible, but her heart further broke. Harry was kissing her in the booth, their booth, in Alessandro's the place he had her first date with y/n.

Fate had evil plans for y/n.

Tears streaming down her face, the makeup for the night ruined, y/n looked around for her sister and friends but they were nowhere to be seen. The only thing glowing right now was her glitzy dress, the one she had been forced into. Unable to take it anymore, she ordered an uber and left.

Fate wasn't kind to y/n at all

The minute she left the club, she was blinded with lights, the flashes from the camera, and the shouts from the reporters

" How do you feel about Harry cheating on you on tour ?"

"Did you expect this ? How do you react to Harry kissing a supermodel, younger than you!"

Y/n wanted to scream, but keeping her emotions in she pushed through the sea of people, got into her uber, gave her address and broke down.

She cried and cried. The uber driver tried to ask her what was wrong but she couldn't stop crying. she wanted the pain to go away. she wanted to cry. But most of all, she wanted Harry to tell her that it wasn't true and hold her in his arms and tell her it's alright.

But it wasn't. it wasn't alright. Far from it.

The next morning after an extremly broken sleep, y/n awoke. All the event's from last night wre remembered and her eyes started to water again. She switched on her phone to see the hashtag #y/ndeservesbetter and #harryandy/nareover trending. She also so 100 missed calls, voicemails and texts from Harry but chose to ignore them.

Y/n was raised to be strong. She spent most of childhood see her mom struggle to make meets end. She had seen the worst. She was strong. She went over to the mirror and saw her reflection and realised that she looked a mess. She took 3 deep breaths, washed her face, and masked her emotions, just as she did way back in high school, before she met Harry, before he changed her.

She went down and suddenly the apartment door opened. There stood the man who she loved, the man who had broken her heart, the one who still held her heart, no matter how broken it was.

He pleaded with her to forgive him. He begged, cried, said it was a one time mistake, and he regretted it, that he loved her; but y/n turned a deaf ear to his pleas. Their love had fizzled out, and she was blinded by affection not to realise it earlier. And as the saying goes " Once a cheater, always a cheater." Y/n wasn't taking any more risks. She put on a strong facade, made up her mind and left, leaving a crying Harry on the porch.

She wasn't over him, far from it. She was so broken, yet showed no signs. She had calm expresssion, yet her thoughts were chaotic. But she knew what was best and she knew this was the right thing to do. She had to take the lessons from this experience and move on, just like her mother had taught her. Dreams end, no matter how amazing it is, no matter how much you want to hold on and live it, and this, her perfect dream, had also come to an end.

So, what is love ?

A dream ? A nightmare ? Soemthing too good to be true?

Maybe all it is, is an illusion. A fairytale. Or maybe it is the truth, because truth teaches us lessons and so does love. i guess it's one of those things which just has no answers.

author's note

AND THATS A WRAP. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING. it's something which definitely shouldnt be forgive . this the first ever imagine I've posted on my new tumblr. Please send feedback. Hope you enjoyed it. Reblog. What are your thoughts? i would love to hear them. Send requests for more imagines.

i should be studying but eh.

keep dreaming

ashu.

(here's a random B99 gif for no reason)

[lancetuckershairgel]

Summmary: Chris uncovers some unsettling truths about Lucy's home life. Lucy becomes angry with Chris.

Word Count: 1,560

Warnings: language, mentions of abuse of a minor

Tag List: @southernbell91 @marvelgirl7 @anxiousamandapanda @book-dragon-13 @jobean12-blog @loricameback @spacemansam @randomfandompenguin @louisianaspell (If you wish to be added or removed in the tag list for this, let me know)

"Leave me alone!"  Lucy yelled as she jerked away from Miss Alexander's reach. "God, can you people not be prison wardens for like five minutes?! Fuck"

"Lucy!" 

The teenager ignored her superior and stir.ed to her class, taking her seat. The Language Arts teacher raised her eyebrows but continued with the lesson, choosing not to fight the battle today. It was Monday and everyone hated Monday's. Especially Chris who was now making his way toward the classroom. He entered, apologizing to the teacher for interrupting, and asked Lucy to join him in the hallway. Lucy ignored him, hoping he'd just leave and glared from underneath her hair covered face as he approached desk. 

"I'm not asking this time. Get up."

Again, the girl didn't reply. Chris sighed,  hating what was to come next. All part of the job, but the riskiest part. Chris stood behind her desk and reached his arms under hers, pulling her up from her desk. She didn't fight him, instead she became dead weight, forcing him to drag her out into the hallway. Waiting for them was the principal, the vice principal,  and the school counselor. 

"Lucy, you were asked repeatedly to remove your hood. You know the rules. No head coverings of any kind inside the school."

"Are you gonna make Inya take her headscarf off?" Lucy grumbled 

"That's different. She has religious exemption."

"Well I have exemption too under the fact that I don't want to."

"Lucy."

Chris was behind her and his voice made her aware of his presence, her stance instantly becoming defensive. 

"Take your hood off and drop the attitude."

"Or what Chris?" Lucy turned toward him, her tone aggressive "You gonna take me down? Cuff me and break my arm?" 

"That's not...have you been reading the news again?"

"No, but all you cops are the same."

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"Just one day, please, could you not be difficult? I was in the middle of a-" 

"Fine!" 

Lucy's sudden scream made the adults jump, taken aback, but not Chris. He remained calm, watching the girl as she reached up and yanked the hood away from her face and pushed her hair away. Soft gasps littered the air as the bruises on Lucy's face and neck were revealed. 

"Lucy, what happened? Are you alright?" Ms Broman, the counselor, asked 

"Oh, now you care?! Five minutes ago you didn't give a shit why I was wearing my hood, you just wanted me to comply to your stupid rules." 

She glared at the women before turning to glance up at Chris.

"Well?"

Chris didn't know what to say. He was shocked, which surprised him. He always had a feeling that something was going on at home, but seeing the proof shook his core. 

"We should go to my office." Ms Broman suggested 

"I just want to go back to class." 

"Lucy, we should talk about this." Chris managed to say

"Talk about what? I got my ass kicked this weekend, big deal. I just want to do my work."

"Who did this? Was it a student?"

"No."

"Your father?"

"Why can't you people leave me alone?!" Lucy cried, pushing past the staff and running up the hallway. 

They were dumbfounded, all standing there looking at each other as they wondered what to do next. 

"I'll talk to her, figure this out." Chris sighed 

"Good. She listens to you." Ms Broman nodded in agreement "We're really going to miss the Lucy Whisperer when you leave."

Chris chuckled before they dispersed. He knew where Lucy would be hiding and sure enough he found her in his office, curled in the saucer chair, her hood pulled tight over her head. 

"Luce?" Chris sat on the edge of his desk "You ok, kiddo?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Who hurt you?" 

No response. 

"Lucy? Did your dad do this?" 

Nothing. 

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"Ha!" Lucy's laugh dripped with sarcasm "Help? How can you help? Call the child services people?"

"I'm required by law to call them if there's a child that needs-" 

"Needs what? An even worse ass beating? You think this is the first time something like this has happened? Every time some grownup tells me they're going to help, then they call the cops. Cops come, old man gets out of trouble, and I get it ten times worse. So why don't you help by minding your business." 

Chris spent the rest of the day trying to convince Lucy to let him make the call but she begged and pleaded until he relented and raises his hands. 

"Fine. I could lose my job, you know."

"Just say you took care of it."

Chris couldn't sleep that night. Every time he  closed his eyes all he could see was Lucy and the bruises. Guilt laid heavy in him and he knew he should make the call but he also knew how much damage it could do. The judicial system was so backwards, and the department of family and children services didn't like to take kids out of their homes,  even with solid proof. The next morning Chris went into the school feeling like a zombie and he was sure that his unkempt hair and baggy eyes showed that he had a rough night. Instead of going to his office he went to the hallways, looking for Lucy. He found her trying to threaten another kid into giving her his breakfast but she stopped when she saw Chris. 

"Hey, kiddo. You okay?" 

She jerked away from him, ignoring his question and storming off to her class. The entire day went by without a word from Lucy's teachers, and he didn't know if he should be worried or relieved. As he finished up a last minute document for the ROTC speech he was giving the next day,  a knock on his door caused him to stop. 

"Come in."

Ms Broman walked in with concern written across her usually cheerful expression. 

"Have a seat. Is everything okay?"

"No, not really. Lucy's current situation is alarming."

"Certainly."

"I asked around for a bit of Intel on her and I'm not liking what I'm hearing. She refused to write an assignment last week, which you know isn't like her, about her family. Did you know that throughout the entire school year she's not once eaten a meal here?"

"I didn't know that." 

"I asked the lunch staff and it turns out there's not a dime in her account. Hasn't been all year. Students say that she threatens them for food."

"Explains this morning." Chris thought to himself as he processed the information "What do we know about her parents? Anything?"

"I pulled her file, she moved her over summer, her mother died four years ago. No one has ever seen or talked to the father." 

"Past records from the previous schools?"

"That only shows her grades and any incidents. There weren't any alarming ones, but she did get suspended in middle school for selling slime on campus." 

"Slime? That doesn't seem like something she'd do." 

Chris made a few notes and finished his conversation with the counselor. He went home for the day, still unable to focus on anything other than Lucy. 

The next morning he was surprised to see Lucy waiting for him in front of his office door, arms crossed. 

"Good morning." He greeted her with a soft smile as he unlocked the door and gestured for her to come in "How are you today?"

"Cut the shit, Chris." She spat, glaring at him "You're the fakest person I've ever met, you know that?" 

"What do you mean?" Chris took a sip of his coffee as he looked at her 

Lucy uncrossed her arms and waved the flier she had been holding in his face 

"Goodbye Rally? You want to explain?"

"The school wants to hold a goodby for me on Friday.  Not my kinda thing, but not my choice." 

"So you're leaving?"

"I am. I had to get a new job that works better for my schedule." 

"Were you planning on telling me?" 

"Oh, you care?" 

"Fuck you." 

Tears filled Lucy's eyes, her face red with frustration. 

"Lucy…"

"It's because of me isn't it?"

"What? No, Luce, that's not it at all"

"Then why?! Why leave somewhere you're needed? These kids, the ones you mentor, the ROTC kids you work with. They need you."

Chris frowned, his gut feeling as if it had been punched. He didn't want to leave his job at the high school, but if he ever wanted to finish his night classes and get his counseling degree, he had to.

"They're bringing in a new resource officer. I know her and she'll do a gild job with everyone."

"You can't leave." Tears streamed down Lucy's face "Please. I promise I won't cause any more trouble, I won't talk back or cuss ever again."

"Lucy, this has nothing to do with you." 

"You don't care, do you? This is just a paycheck for you, you don't care what happens to us. Fucking liar."

Chris started to reply but was cut off by Lucy balling up the flier and throwing it in his face. She stormed out, slamming the door closed behind her. Chris sat down in his chair and buried his face in his hands, groaning.