#maybe I'm just tired of constantly second-guessing everything about everyone and all my relationships with everyone I know

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

not sure if I personally agree with Aristotle about friendship tbh

[animeyanderelover]

This one wanted to be kept anonymous and what is asked shall be done.

Request: Can you please do Prompt 72 for Claude Faustus?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, overprotectiveness, kidnapping, sabotage, manipulation, teasing

Prompt 72: “Do you want your underwear back?”

You hated approaching that man, you hated being with him, no matter how hard he might try to change your mind. Being stuck with someone who wasn't even a human was really everything, but pleasant. Being completely isolated in a cottage you weren't allowed to leave was unpleasant. And the trues cherry on top of everything was his personality, rge unbelievable confidence he seemed to have in himself that he would get you to love him and all the teasing and provoking just to get his sadistic fun out of it.

His methods were rather simple, but smart and effective nevertheless. Whenever you were ignoring him, he did something to leave you with no choice but to seek for him. As much as you hated admitting it, he was the one who took care of you, meaning that without him you wouldn't be provided with the basic needs a human needed daily for living. Because you knew from previous experiences that as much as he chose to be lenient, Claude got quickly annoyed and was ready to punish you when you made him snap which didn't end always well. It wasn't like he hurt you physically, but he very much always showed you that he was the one in power and the one you would have to rely on for everything. Clearing this up hurt your pride more than anything else and you just knew that he wanted to embarrass you by having you admitting it.

Making you come to him, having you pleading him to help you had to be the most shameful for you to do, having to do what he wanted just so you would also get what you wanted. It wasn't good for your own self-esteem and knowing Claude, he did everything on purpose so this would happen. Your guess was to feed his ego a bit by knowing that you had to come to him when you needed help.

He probably intended to push you into developing Stockholm syndrome and forcing you to think that he was all you needed, you had figured out that his kind seemed to be more possessive over persons they had chosen as their "mates".

If you remembered right one of your friends had once told you that it was her dark fantasy to have someone going after her who would be ready to kill for her, everyone seemed to like this thought of having someone loving them who would do anything for the person of desire. And back then you might have even wanted the same, but now you could have beaten your ounger self up for thinking about this. People only knew better after having witnessed certain things, same counting for you. You were alone, helpless, left at the mercy of your captor.

You were in no condition to look in those golden eyes, not wanting to see the same amused and pleased look from all of this. No, absolutely not. But even without looking up, you felt those eyes sliding over your body, causing goosebumps to start coverin your whole body and your face to burn up, knowing what would await you in your nearest future.

It was all his fault, he had done it once again on purpose, you knew it had to be true. Why else would his eyes linger a bit longer on the place between your legs that currently was at it's most vulnerable, unprotected which added a new kind of shame to all of this? He must have done it, there was no other explanation.

"You seem to feel tonight a bit more bold than usual, don't you think so?", he asked, the slight amusement in his voice all too audible which had you boiling even more. How much you would have died to just smash him in his face to feel satisfaction. But it would only be for a few seconds before you might agitate Claude and making him angry was not a good idea, not in the least bit. Especially now that you were left so exposed.

"Claude...Where is my underwear?", you pressed out, eyes still trained on the wooden floor under your feet, not a single scratch or trace of dust on it. That you had to give Claude, he made sure that the house always stayed in top shape. What had he said once before? A pretty house for his pretty made? Something in that direction.

Black and polished shoes entered your vision, the sudden closeness causing your skin to crawl and make you stumble frightened a few feet back, not having sensed his fast approach. A short huff of air was heard from him, sounding like he was a bit annoyed and yet entertained by this small act of yours, making you bite angrily your tongue. Making yourself look like a fool wasn't what you planned on doing whilst being with him. It gave him only more stuff to irritate you with.

"(y/n)...I thought we already talked about this. You have to look someone in the eyes when you want something from them. Otherwise I'm afraid I won't be able to help you and you know I will gladly do anything for you if you would just let me. If you just wouldn't be that incorrigible."

Ah yes, that shit again. Your manners and the tantrums you sometimes threw about the situations you were stuck in, the disapproving looks from Claude whenever you acted out of the place, the constant lecturing that came afterwards. He really came in such scenarios over as a butler who wanted to make sure that others were behaving like they should be and scolding them if they didn't. It put you always down whenever he pointed those things out, you knew you weren't perfect and him rubbing it constantly under your nose wasn't helpful. It led you to such moments where you just felt like you were under average, reaching your lower points.

It was no reason to give up nor was it an excuse to stop fighting, especially since the butler planned on making you feel that way, to slowly break you. Still, he was currently the only person you were able to see, meaning there was no one to cheer you up, no one to tell you otherwise. You were all on your own with the only source of comfort being the golden-eyed man. And there were those times where you questioned if giving up your pride was the better and less painful option and indeed just giving in would make your life easier. The moments where you became all too aware of the one and only fact. That a human wouldn't be able to beat a demon, at least not a human like you.

This was one of those moments where you felt like a fly trapped in the web of the spider and where the only option was pleading and hoping he would choose to be lenient with you. "Just standing there and not saying anything won't help you nor can I help you when you are like this. If you don't have anything to say, please go back to bed. It's pretty late and I have to leave tomorrow morning early to work in the manor of my master."

He didn't sound happy whilst saying it, you knew that he didn't really like how his master was constantly bossing him around and on some days he complained for a few seconds about what a brat that boy really was, even more when because of him Claude had to be kept busy which meant leaving you longer alone.

You were stuck in denial, not thinking it would be good to do as he said. Not letting having it the way he wanted it to go was important for your own sanity, to prevent you from getting caught in his trap and grow over time too dependent on him. But you also could estimate what would happen afterwards. He would take something else from you away to push you into having to ask him once again and he would continue this for as long as he had the patience. That meant for you more and more embarrassment and hurt. Was that what you wanted? Or should you just go with the easy option to keep the damage as small as possible and live with this scratch on your pride?

You heard his footsteps slowly fading more and more away from you telling you that he was leaving you in your frozen state behind. Why wouldn't he? He had the time and the power to do so. Claude knew that the one way or another you would have to come to him and it was what allowed him to have confidence. This luxury was sadly only open for him whilst you were only allowed to live a good life for as long as he was pleased with how you acted. It was cruelly unfair, but you knew that this was how life was. The one in power and the one at the bottom.

"Wait.", you called faintly after him, making him stop, golden eyes being met with yours, the look in them being comparible with being tired and done with something. You looked leached out, your pride already having taking so many blows before and every time it became harder to fix the damage and pain he put you through like this. Maybe there would come a time where you would have to give up indeed, you doubted that anyone would be able to stay strong whilst suffering from this. But maybe you were wrong and there were people out there who would be able to stand their ground. And maybe you just weren't this person.

"Claude...My underwear.", you slowly muttered out, forcing your gaze to not waver too much and stay on him, knowing you would have to repeat it again if you would look away. And that would mean more poison for you to swallow.

"Do you want your underwear back?", he asked with a silk-like voice, smoothly walking with a few huge steps over to you to take a better look at your current state. How wonderful, he felt extremely satisfied in that one moment. You were slowly being stripped off your stubborness to accept him, instead starting to to him when you needed something. Just two months ago you wouldn't have even thought in your wildest dreams to ask him for help. It just told him that you were slowly breaking, were getting exhausted from all of this.

"Yes. Please.", you said in a more quiet voice, now that he was being so close to you again you felt your gaze shifting somewhere completely else, still not being able to shake the drilling look of him off. Hopefully he wouldn't force you to ask him once again.

"See? This wasn't as hard after all wasn't it?" His voice was laced with a certain sweetness in it, leaving you with a bitter stinging in your heart. That was not true at all. You had just now sacrificed a part of your own confidence. Not like he would care. And not like you would tell him that. You didn't feel in the mood to do so and now it would be dangerous to do so, whilst you felt so incredibly small and helpless. It would be too easy for him to get in your head.

Instead of answering you let out a noise akin to a gentle hum, making yourself a bit smaller, feeling a bit intimidated by the way he was towering over you. Claude seemed to take notice of this and to your surprise he was suddenly kneeling in front of you, although you had almost bet he would push your buttons a bit more right now. But maybe he didn't feel in the mood to be that way, not after you had for the first time ever finally broken a bit in front of him.

With his own face suddenly so close to his, you had no other place to avoid those golden eyes, scanning slowly over your embarrassed and ashamed expression. "You don't have to be scared of me. You know that I wouldn't hurt you. I'm not lowlife like other creatures you might have met."

"Then why do you do this to me?", you stuttered out, by now feeling your eyes tearing up. "Because I only want the best for you. I know how to treat you good, better than anyone else. And all I try to do is helping you to realize this. It would make life easier for you too. I just want you to trust me."

[marshmallowprotection]

Sorry if your getting tired of me sending so many submissions/asks about modern mysme au versions of my characters from my book ;-; I just like to send them and you said you like seeing stuff about OCS sooo...oof.

The above sketch is a concept I've made of Eros, btw.

So our newest in the line of me sending you stuff about modern au versions of characters is Eros, goddess of love. Er, emotions in general technically. 5'5 feet tall, pink hair, and light purple eyes. Besides Moya (whose a story for another time), she's the only other goddess who is bisexual (or just in general lgbtq+, although most of them are in some way both demisexual and demiromantic, but only attracted to men barring Eros and Moya). So, that's cool I guess? Oof

Considered the most beautiful out of her fellow goddesses (and often praised as the most beautiful woman ever due to her goddess status but she constantly says that no woman is the "most beautiful" out of all the others), Eros overall is a pretty beloved goddess.

But as with most of the goddesses, her story is not a happy one.

Eros since day one of being on her own without the other goddesses there has been sexually harassed by men due to her "above average breasts and pretty face". She was almost raped several times, and the effects on her psyche were not very positive. She slowly became more scared of men, fearing that like all the others they would harass her. Until she met a guy who uh actually I don't have a name for him yet T-T so let's just call him B. 

B suffered similar experiences to Eros, having been sexually abused by his stepmother. They met during a ball that Eros planned to celebrate the crowning of the new queen of [a country that no longer exists that I haven't named yet T-T]. Originally Eros was scared of him but after that ball, they began to meet up several times, and slowly she trusted him more and more.

After 5 years of this, (The last year of which was mostly just a hard to watch cycle of pining and missed opportunities) she confessed to B she loved him, and like classical love stories they eloped in secret (she couldn't tell anyone because the goddesses are forbidden to have relationships with humans by Kaya because Kaya knew it would only cause heartbreak and pain for both parties...Eros didn't listen). 

2 years later through uh stuff, Eros conceives a child with B and later gives birth to Lucretia, who inherited her father's blonde hair and green eyes. Eros had to lie to everyone that Lucretia was her adopted child she found abandoned somewhere as she would be in deep, deep trouble if Kaya found out about her relationship with B. Eros overall ended up unintentionally neglecting her daughter, her duties as the goddess of love and head of the church in Alluria left her for days on end leaving Lucretia in the care of B or one of her servants. As time went on Lucretia became resentful of her mother for prioritizing her "job" over her and having to lie to everyone all the time. 

"Why did you even have me if you only intended to force me to hide?!" Was something Lucretia told Eros when she was 14, one year before B died.

Eros and B constantly fought over the life that they had, the life of hiding Lucretia and B had to endure whilst Eros left them for days on end.

They had a particularly heated argument two days before B died about the issue. 

B had stormed out of the palace and went missing hours later.

His dead body was found hanging from a tree in Rose Forest, and it was eventually determined to be a suicide. The true reasons for B's suicide remain unknown but Eros believes it to be her fault and blamed herself for his death. She even considered committing suicide herself...but killing oneself as a goddess is notoriously difficult. 

The only way for a goddess to die is for her soul to be destroyed, which is very difficult. 

And so she wept.

And wept.

And wept.

She didn't leave her room, she didn't care for her life anymore.

She was just a walking corpse, drowning in guilt and sorrow.

Lucretia and Eros's relationship plummeted even more from there, with Lucretia saying:

"Wallowing in our sorrow only makes everything worse! Pull yourself together already! You have a child and responsibilities as archbishop! Are you blind or simply deaf to the cries of your 15-year-old several year's neglected daughter who only ever wanted you to hold her hand and love her, but instead watched you prioritize Father and her responsibilities over her?! You already broke several rules, why not have bent a few more for your fucking daughter?! If all you were going to do was force me and Father to hide, then why did you even have me? Why did you elope with Father if you were only going to make him hide from the world?" Before storming out in tears.

When Lucretia was 16 Eros did the second best thing to suicide: put herself into a self-inflicted coma, where the only person who would know how to wake her...was, in fact, Lucretia. Before she put herself into a coma, Lucretia told her this: "So you're going to pawn off your responsibilities and entire life to your daughter so you can make yourself fall asleep and live in a dream where everything is perfect and how you want it to be? Ha, what a cowardly thing to do...Mother." 

I'm not sure how events would work in a modern AU, potentially Eros might be a leader of a nation or something (maybe France since Alluria is inspired by France, potentially in some weird alternate timeline where the monarchy somehow didn't get totally abolished? Though it would be a constitutional monarchy obviously) and force someone to put her in a coma or something? Maybe.

After Eros put herself into a coma, Lucretia took over her responsibilities as archbishop at age 16 and stayed archbishop for almost a century before faking her death and going into hiding for another century. She began faking her identity over the centuries, in a cycle of: come out of hiding and fake a new identity, using a masking spell to make herself look different, faking her death after a century or so, then spending a century in hiding, repeat.

I'll probably make a submission about Lucretia later, but for now here's Eros I suppose.

I really love her character design, though. You’re really good at making hairstyles that are not only unique but have this fantasy flare about them that makes me in a way, want to play with it. I just think braids and loose styles are so neat and I’d info-dump about how cute I think it is but it’s definitely making me feel some kind of way. It’s about the flowing fabrics and the way that you capture a scene when you want to do that.

It’s very tragic though that she loves so deeply but she’s unable to help her own life and family. It’s a song and dance that happens a lot in history but it does seem realistic no matter how painful it is. Sometimes, things get put to the wayside that shouldn’t. 

[lambourngb]

1 Hi! I saw the Michael wants a family w/ Alex thread & saw you're maybe planning a fic. First off I am such a fan and feel free to delete this if it in anyway offends bec i I swear it's never my intent. It's your fic and you can 1000% write w/ever you want. I can't figure out how to reply to the thread but I saw someone putting in a request not to shade M for not wanting kids. So I thought maybe it'd be okay to reach out too w/ a concern (i hope I'm not overstepping, if so ignore me please).

2 I get that the idea of including her in the 1st place was from a comment who wanted a fun petty moment (no judgement) but it grew to addressing Michael's passiveness. I just wanted to put it out there that I hope incl. her doesn't come off as if she's the 1st option for this. Given the OG text post, it'd be great if Alex is the 1st person Michael thinks of when thinking about a child. The idea of it being a last resort or that he went to someone else 1st just makes me so anxious and sad.

3 I feel like Alex deserves better & that Michael chooses him because he wants to not bec he has no options so I hope it isn't written like that. The show forcing things is tiring me out and it's making me anxious about things I'm usually pretty chill about. I don't even know if you will write it and I don't mean any harm. I hope you're not mad and I didn't offend & this isn't coming off as whiny or demanding, I was just rly hoping to reach out to voice a concern. Thanks for reading.

Hi Nonnie- first of all, thank you. I’m glad you enjoy my writing! That’s always nice to hear. And second of all, I’m not offended and I completely understand your anxiety about Alex being a second choice here with Michael. I’ve always believed that Maria has been Michael’s second choice in canon. He’s convinced himself that things are too hard with Alex and it’s best to give up. I hate that for Michael because it says a lot of things about his non-existent self esteem and his abandonment issues. Anyway, my “Michael wants a family” story is just a nebulous idea at the moment and is obviously something I won’t dive into until I finish off Last Year’s Wishes. I basically smack my brain with a rolled up newspaper and say “No! focus on the thing you started before you start another!”.

When I am ready to dive in- here’s what I’m thinking and hopefully this helps gauge your future interest in this story- like Last Year’s Wishes, I like to write from one limited point of view. I have only tried briefly to write from Michael’s POV, but I feel like this story has to be told from his and that’s intimidating as hell, haha, especially because I feel a deep connection to Alex.

What we know from canon regarding kids and a family is- Michael wants a family. Other than Isobel leaving the door open for herself in the future, he’s the only one who has definitively said he wants kids. I don’t know how Maria or Alex feels about kids, Maria I think I can guess on (more on that below), but Alex, other than saying that Roswell felt like home for the first time because of Michael (triggering Maria’s iconic line “Home can be a person”) hasn’t said much in the way of marriage and family. The fact he bought or rented a house in Roswell, instead of the cabin - maybe that signals he wants to set down roots? Maybe he just hated the commute from the cabin?

Maria is a little easier for me to make a guess over, and I could be wrong, but she’s been working extremely hard to support herself and her mother for many years. Did she dream about being a singer? Did she ever want to leave Roswell? We don’t know, but she is savvy with money and is constantly looking for opportunities to better her position in life financially. And that financial security is still shakey with her 24/7 hustle. Nursing home care in the US is so costly it could be considered a crime, and with Mimi not being old enough to qualify for social security or medicare, that cost is on Maria’s shoulders. From a young age- Maria’s entire focus on the future was based around the knowledge that she was going to have to take care of her mother. I don’t know if that leaves energy for the idea of taking care of a child. Maria also knew she too would face this neurological disorder at some point and become a burden herself. Now does the bracelet stop her decline? How long does the pollen’s keep things in check? And if she does keep her mind healthy and intact, what sort of thing would she be passing on to a more-than-50 percent alien child?

Again I could be projecting my own feelings here, but I just get the vibe that Maria has a lot of caretaker burnout still and is reaching for things that make her feel good in the moment but is in no hurry to take on another big future responsibility outside of making enough money to survive.

And what does that mean for Michael’s relationship with her? If he wants to have a long-term relationship with Maria, he would have to let go of the idea of kids. Here’s the thing, that Michael himself said, he’s good at giving up. He gave up college, he gave up on hope/people, he gave up on the idea he could have a happy ending with Alex- everywhere you look in canon, you see him holding up empty hands when it comes to things he wants and basically saying “I tried for a bit, it was hard, so I’m done trying” (and personally I think he tried for 10 years with Alex, the longest and most stubborn grab for happiness).

Other people get him to keep pushing past that impulse to give up - Liz when it came to curing Isobel, Liz again when it came to saving Max, and Alex- when it came to looking for some hope in a dark story (Nora and Tripp). So I want Michael to be the one who pushes himself past that impulse. I want him to come face to face with his oldest, most wanted desire (A family) and draw a line in the sand, and so no, “I want this, I want this for me” and not back away when it causes conflict with someone else.

But here’s the thing, Michael’s so used to “going where you want me” that I think even in the face of Maria saying “you know, kids aren’t in the future here” he would still try to make it work. I have long joked that I ship everyone on RNM with a therapist (except for Kyle, who is perfect) but I really want Michael to seek out help. I think he would go, but for entirely the wrong purpose- in my story, he would go see a therapist and say to them, “I can fix a busted transmission, but I can’t fix this. Can you help me with this? She doesn’t want a family but I do. How can I change myself”

And oh boy is that a pandora’s box for a therapist. Digging into the meat of you don’t think people will stay so you push them away- Alex, then when they do express they want you, you don’t believe it will last so why bother trying again. In the process of Michael trying to fix himself so he can preserve his relationship with Maria, he discovers though guidance - that he can’t be a good partner if he’s not good to himself, and letting someone else’s desires supersede his own isn’t healthy. Then finding the balance after you figure out you can say no- because compromise is also important.

Somewhere in this mess is Sanders, who after hearing that Michael’s ready to ditch the idea of being someone’s dad, shakes him by the shirt collar. Explaining to Michael that just maybe he should have tried harder all those years ago to be someone who could adopt him, that shame never leaves him. Trying twice was good but not good enough, who’s to say the third time wouldn’t have been successful? But somewhere along the line Sanders decided it was easier to be the old gin-soaked junkyard dog than be someone who was willing to do the work of sobriety. Does Michael want to follow in his footsteps? Leave some kid in a place they don’t belong if he has the ability and desire to provide a home? And Michael decides he is done telling himself it won’t work out, that he wants this with an impulse stronger than his self-defeatist instincts.

And that is the death knell on his relationship with Maria- incompatible.

Then, because I’m a Malex shipper through and through, there’s Alex. He’s shown up for Michael all through season 2. And in my eyes, they’ve worked on their friendship (drown in those 2x04 feels) and Michael calls him for advice, lays out what’s going on with him and Alex supports him on that path to being happy. Alex gently probing him about how long he’s had this dream of being a parent, hearing how it predated senior year, but after senior year Michael inserted Alex into the dream. Michael sharing even after everything, he still thinks of Alex of being there, maybe an uncle? And Alex, overwhelmed by how serious Michael was and maybe still is? Takes it slow, this can’t be a rebound, just urges him to take the small steps, like mentoring with Big Brothers/Big Sisters or through the YMCA.

Those logical steps get escalated when Michael discovers a hitchhiker stowed away in flatbed of his tow trunk after a stop at a rest area. He sees himself in this angry, but desperate kid. He doesn’t want to give the kid up and so he calls on Alex yet again, to do a background check to make sure the story is true and then pleads for him to help. Make Michael foster-parent worthy in the eyes of the law. I don’t know if this skirts the fear you have that Alex is the last resort? In my mind, his two oldest desires are having a kid AND having Alex, and once he works out he can have the first, he realizes that all is not lost with Alex as well.

Anyway my very long thoughts on this story I AM NOT WRITING RIGHT NOW: a take on ‘fake engagement because of CPS’ where Alex installs Michael into his house all so they could give a home to this stray kid. 

[old-read-all-about-kpop]

Hewwoo it's me again, I hope I'm not bothering you ;w; I just really like your writings! Could I request for a scenario between student council!you and badboy!ravn? I just get the badboy vibe from him ahshsjdk the genre is up to you, I love everything that you post uwu thank you!

A/N: You’re joking right? You are not bothering me at all lovely! I’m happy that you enjoyed my writing enough that you wanted to request once more. That brings me so much joy! 🥺💖 This concept has caused me to create the (almost) perfect scenario! I hope you enjoy reading it my dear! 💓

Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending

Warning!: Slight vulgarity

You wanted the floor to swallow you and never allow you to see the break of dawn again. You, the Vice President of the student council, were outside the principal’s office to be scolded. Why you may ask? Because of the biggest douchebag in the school, Kim Youngjo, who prefers to be called Ravn.

How it all happened was idiotic to say the least. You knew you should have just been the bigger person. But, what Ravn said was hurtful. His friend was no better but, sadly, his words affected you the most. You wished you could rewind time but that’d be too much to ask for.

You and the rest of the student council were having a bake sale. Over the weekend you all made some sugary treats to sell for new football uniforms and, hopefully, new textbooks. In your opinion, the latter would do more good. But no one would acknowledge your opinion.

You were considered the “nerdy b****” who needed to get laid. Or needed to have a Valium and then get laid.

Anyway, your reason for being somewhere you would only be if you had an issue to convey with the principal was simple. You hit the idiot of a jock, Ravn (you snarl at the thought of him), in the back of his precious letterman jacket with a cupcake.

“If the nerdy b**** wants to make money then she should just lay on her back,” you heard one say as the muscle head jocks strolled by.

“Or get on her knees,” muttered Ravn.

His fellow douchebag friends hollared with laughter at his remark. They slapped him on the back as if he scored a three pointer before the blaring of the shot clock.

Your retaliation? You snatched up an innocent cupcake and chucked it at Ravn, perfectly aimed at the jaguar sewed in the middle of his precious varsity jacket.

Ravn could’ve been steaming at the ears from how pissed he looked. If looks could kill, you’d be twelve feet under.

He stalked toward you, having you feel as though you were in the Amazon Rainforest. You stood tall, though. You refused to show any signs of timidity. All through your high school career you’ve kept quiet, allowing people to do/say anything to you. Now, you were tired of staying quiet. People were gonna hear from you.

Ravn took off his jacket and examined it, all the while clicking his tongue and sucking his teeth. He chuckled dryly as he saw the cupcake holding onto his jacket. He took it off and spun it around his long fingers.

“Very funny of you. Now…I wonder…if this little cupcake can hold on to my jacket…maybe it can hold onto the slimy strands of your oily hair.”

WHAM!

You gasped in horror. You blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the situation while also keeping your cool. But it was disappearing by the second.

Ravn went ahead and smacked the cupcake on the top of your head. Everyone around you two were silent, their anticipation for what was to come stinking the air.

Soon enough, you two engaged in a food war. You launched cupcakes at him while Ravn threw slices of cake, decorating the corner of the cafeteria you had with cavity-producing sweets.

Now, you two were sitting outside the principal’s office, awaiting your punishments. You knew you were in for it once your parents got called. The disappointment they’d feel was gonna be unbearable. To keep from crying, you dug your nails into your flesh. Whenever they slid over your flesh, you’d sink them back in. The cycle would repeat when needed.

“Stop that!” A voice exclaimed. “You’re making your skin red.”

A warm hand touched you. You jumped away as if you got burned.

Ravn leaned back. Wide-eyed, he raised his hands slowly, trying to appear harmless.

You huffed, placing your chin in your open hand. You focused your eyes on the clock ahead, hoping to zone out as you watched the second hand tick by.

“Listen. What happened back at lunch didn’t have to go down like that. Obviously, we could have handled things differently.”

“Oh, like me allowing you and your dumb jock friends to belittle and degrade me with voices loud enough for me to hear. Yeah, I’m sure that would’ve been a preferred scenario for you, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t call me that!” You whipped around to look st him, your gaze fiery. “You lost your chance to call me any cute pet names the minute you started acting differently at the start of this school year.”

Ravn sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. “I never meant to treat you like a nobody.”

“Then what did you mean exactly, Youngjo? Because how you mistreated me was awful! All summer we hung out, sharing little bits about ourselves, staying up talking until God-awful hours in the night.” Despite your efforts to keep them at bay, tears spilled. “You took my first kiss.”

You quickly wiped your face, sniffling your emotions back up. “So, you didn’t just treat me like a nobody. You’ve treated me like a summer fling.”

You needed to remain strong. But all you did was appear strong for these past two months, having to constantly see the boy who owned your heart despite you fighting the reality of it. You were tired now. The act was becoming exhausting.

Suddenly, two hands took possession of your cheeks. You tried to jerk away, but the hands simply tightened their hold.

“Don’t fight me right now, angel. I just need to look into your eyes while I say this.” He then started rubbing the tear streaks away with the pads of his thumbs. And that action alone was how he got you under his control.

Ravn leaned in closer, licking his lips nervously as he gazed into your eyes with his dark brown ones. “Sweetheart, I know I screwed up. No…I f***** up. Babygirl, you became my gravity over the summer. You held me down more than I could say for any of the people I hang out with and call my ‘friends’. You been there for me more than my own parents. You understand me. And, the moments you don’t, you take the time to try.”

He was closer than ever now, causing your lips to brush together in the slightest. Just from the ghost of a touch from his pink lips had your breathing becoming shallow. Your body felt like it was vibrating. The pull you felt toward Ravn was impeccable. You felt as though you two were the only ones existing in this moment.

“If you would let me, I would love to make this right, baby. I miss you with every fiber of my being. It takes everything in me not to kiss you in front of all these pricks in this dumb school. Believe me if you want to.”

You sighed shakily. You wanted nothing more than to melt into Ravn and take him back. But, you needed to set some ground rules. You weren’t going to be treated like a fool again.

“One condition.”

“Baby, you could name a thousand. I don’t care. Name it and I’ll do it.”

“Either be your own person or forget us ever becoming more.”

Ravn dropped his gaze. He knew what you were insinuating.

“Your jock friends pressure you to be someone you’re not. You showed me a Ravn over the summer completely different from this Ravn. Look me in my eyes and say this is who you really are and we won’t have to waste each other’s time any longer.”

Ravn shifted his eyes to yours. His hands seized yours, bringing them to his lips.

“This isn’t the person I want to be. And I’m truly sorry for Hwanwoong’s comment and mine. It was truly unacceptable. I should’ve defended you instead of engaging in such awful talk about you. I’m really sorry, angel.

He leaned in closer. His gaze deepened, unknowingly pulling you more into its abyss.

“I promise you I will treat you how you’re supposed to be treated from here on out. No matter how long my probation is until I regained your trust I’ll wait. For you, it’s worth it.”

“You really promise?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He then released one of your hands and made an X where his heart is. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

A smile slowly appeared on your face. You looked down at your joined hands. Your heart swelled from the familiarity.

You looked back up at Ravn, regaining eye contact. You licked your lips before speaking. Ravn bit his lip, enduring a large amount of stress as he waits for your response. He wasn’t willing to let you go. He wouldn’t be able to go on with his life another second without you with him.

“If you’re hoping to die then, I guess, we can try again at this relationship.” A coy smile took over your features.

Ravn’s eyes grew wide. Simultaneously, a huge smile covered half his face.

“Yes!” He yelled before pulling you out of your seat and wrapping you up in a tight bear hug.

Dried icing fell to the floor like dust off of chalk as your clothes rubbed against each other. But neither of you cared to notice.

“Thank you, babygirl! Thank you! I swear to you I will cherish you like you’re the most precious source of air in the entire world.” His grip grew tighter, causing you to feel secure. The pieces of your self-esteem, happiness, and heart felt like they were put back together as Ravn held you flush to his body.

Once again, you felt that bubbly feeling deep in your belly. The same thrill you felt in the summer is the same as what you’re feeling now. It might have maximized. Because you were finally back in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling right at home.

A/N: Okay this turned really freaking long. But I’m happy with the plot. A big pat on the back for myself if I must say. I’m sorry if you were waiting a long time my dear. But, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this darling! 🤗💓

[ive-always-been-a-pirate]

The Other Prince + A CS Modern Royalty AU [Chapter 8]

Modern Royalty AU: HRH Prince Killian has grown up in the shadow of the crown while enduring tragedy and the burdens of being the spare to the heir. With a desire to escape his past, he agrees to play host to the visiting general’s daughter in exchange for an eventual life outside royal bounds. Moving on is never that easy though and he quickly learns that being the ‘other’ prince is even more difficult when you find yourself falling for the girl everyone wants your brother to marry.

Catch Up On Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven Also on FF.net and AO3.

Word Count: 9,063

This totally spiraled out of control and that’s my only excuse for taking forever to finish it haha. Thank you to @optomisticgirl for being a lovely beta and for listening to me whine and second guess everything constantly :] you’re a gem, my friend. There’s more to come (including some stuff with Liam, Brennan, and others) in the next one! Enjoy! XOXO

The street was busy as Emma stomped along the sidewalk, her black rain boots slightly damp and her mind in a fixed state of stubbornness. The weather had been shifting back and forth all day, the sky calm one moment but the sharp wind blowing the next. It wasn’t a huge surprise that a light rain had finally started to sprinkle and it was easy to be thankful for the warmth of the light, mesh-lined gray jacket she had zipped tight around her frame. As she took a moment to glance back down the winding road she’d just traveled by foot, Emma realized the durable material keeping the storm off her skin was currently the only thing she could muster any gratitude for.

It was likely she was acting a bit dramatic and definitely a little selfish, but she also firmly believed she had grounds to be both. The not so casual conversation she’d been blindsided with just before dinner hadn’t been a true betrayal or a major deceit, but it had certainly been unexpected and frustrating in a way she wasn’t ready to discuss with anyone. The news her father had announced a few hours earlier was an annoying reminder of just why surprises were not high on her list of favorite things.

No, Emma liked plans. Well, except the new one her family now had - the one that included staying in London for the next two weeks.

The splashing of car tires through the puddles was a rhythmic distraction and her feet continued to carry her down the shop lined road as she pulled her hood up over her head. She wasn’t really sure how long she’d been walking - it wasn’t like she had left the palace with much of a goal in mind. Glancing up at the dreary sky, she merely hoped that maybe the walk would help her ignore the echo of her father’s words in her head.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of metropolitan London, Em, but I have to be here - at least for now. The countryside has been kind to our family and I’ll miss it too, but it was never meant to be permanent. This job is a big change for all of us, but I have to give it a chance and I need you and your mom with me on this.”

She knew he was right - now that he’d approached what might qualify as total recovery, there wasn’t much left for any of them in the quiet confines of the Yorkshire property. Sure, the move there had required a lot from her, but it wasn’t as if she had a whole lot - or anything, really - to go back to now. She let out an exasperated sigh as the drops of precipitation grew larger, her steps slowing as she reached a street corner. He’d looked so honest when he made the hopeful request for her support and as irritated as she’d been, denying him the opportunity to save his career wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Can you just….try, Emma? Just for a few weeks while we sort out a schedule?”

Watching her breath hang briefly in the cool air, Emma recalled the nod and weak hug she’d given him. Sacrifice was the name of this recently recurring game and for now, she had to keep playing it.

Looking quickly to the left, she caught the appearance of a small establishment crafted in gray bricks trimmed with deep red paint. The door was solid mahogany, hanging on black hinges that had definitely been well tested. The rounded windows alight with a warm glow seemed to call to her and while the overhead posted name of The Round Table didn’t immediately tell her what the building’s purpose was, the handful of tipsy patrons stumbling out onto the sidewalk certainly did. A place like the one she’d paused in front of was probably well known for its gin or assortments of well crafted lager, but her addled mind immediately went the one indisputable option.

Alcohol - and she honestly didn’t care what kind.

Reaching forward to prop open the heavy door, Emma ducked inside the apparent pub without a second thought. As she looked around the instantly easy space and noted the surroundings - a weathered bar counter, occupied pool table, a soccer match blaring on a distant flat screen, and amusingly accented population - she knew this was the perfect place to toss back a beverage or two. Few people seemed to give her much notice and nobody appeared to realize just how out of place she definitely was.

Thank god, she thought as she approached the row of stools just below the wood bar top.

“Evening, m'lady,” a dark haired bartender greeted, his smile framed by a thick beard. “Braving the storm, eh?”

“Oh, umm - yeah I guess,” she said in return, hoping she didn’t look too nervous about venturing into unknown territory. “It’s not too bad out there yet, actually.”

“Well, tumultuous enough that you’re seeking-” he returned, reaching for a glass and narrowing his eyes pensively. “-a little whiskey, I’m guessing.”

“Wow,” Emma laughed. “Am I really that obvious?”

“I’ve been at this a long time is all,” he grinned. “On the rocks or neat?”

“Not picky,” she shrugged. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Nonsense, lass,” he disputed with a wave of his hand. “After all, you’re only in London….well, not often, right?”

“Ah, very transparent I guess,” Emma sighed, accepting the glass tumbler he set down in front of her. “I should probably work on my local dialect.”

“Nah, I say you own it. It’s not often we get Americans in here.”

Emma smirked at his little reassurance, taking a sip from her drink and feeling the whiskey burn in the best way as it slid down her throat. She decided not to refute his assumption that she’d come from the states since she sort of did courtesy of her college experience. She hadn’t expected to find any sort of company when she’d left the palace - after all, the intended endgame had been to avoid pretty much everyone. It was relaxing to be in this environment though and the lumberjack type of guy making conversation seemed easy enough to talk to.

“I have to admit I haven’t been to an actual bar in a while. This seems like a place for regulars.”

“Well, some of them far too regular, but I guess anyone who’s been pouring drinks for nearly ten years at the same pub would say that,” he explained. “Kind of a hazard of ownership I suppose.”

“Wait, you're….”

“Arthur Pendragon - proprietor and long standing pun,” he smiled. “Hence the, uh….the name.”

It took Emma a moment to piece together what he meant, but once it clicked, her face lit up with realization he’d likely witnessed many times. The subtle shake of his head and barely embarrassed eye roll told her he’d ceased to see the endearing charm in Camelot cliches long ago.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been served whiskey by the once and future king,” she replied cleverly. “I take it the name wasn’t your doing?”

“Definitely not,” he confirmed, tossing a coaster on the bar as a resting place for the glass she’d yet to put down. “My wife’s actually.”

“My compliments to her wit then.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that next time I talk to her,” he said with a hint of melancholy. “She's��.not been around for a bit.”

“Oh, I'm….sorry,” Emma returned, her cheeks rosy with regret for bringing it up. “I just assumed-”

“Not your fault, lass,” he told her kindly. “It’s okay. I suppose most relationships are tested in one way or another at some point. Sometimes it just takes a bit to sort itself out.”

“Yeah, I-” Emma said with familiar understanding. “-I know what you mean.”

“But, enough about my sob story. I’m the one who should be offering an ear - part of the job description after all,” he deflected, a bit of his happier demeanor returning. “What brings you to Victoria Street this evening, Miss America?”

“It’s Emma actually,” she said in amusement, tapping the sides of her glass. “I guess I just….needed to take a beat.”

Truly, she didn’t have a real purpose for why she’d all but stormed out of the palace earlier that night - well, not a fair one, anyway. The quarters at Her Majesty’s abode were beautiful and vast enough that she’s managed to find plenty of personal space while also avoiding running into a certain prince. Emma knew he didn’t actually reside at the building currently accommodating her and her family, a detail that had been learned from a late night internet search instead of a recently bought book she'd already misplaced. Still, she couldn’t stop wondering when she might stumble into another awkward encounter with him - or who’d be doing the literal stumbling this time.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to chance finding out and that had been a decent reason to slip away for a bit - or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

“Well, when the world’s got you down, a drink never hurts,” Arthur continued. “Sometimes a chat with a stranger is helpful too. That is, of course, if you’d like to talk?”

Emma exhaled, biting her lip as she tried to decide just how honest she should be. She didn’t know this guy - or anyone else in the area, for that matter - and perhaps it was best to keep it that way. Getting used to being in London seemed wrong, especially since she was still hoping her stay wasn’t permanent. The whole idea of her being at the bar was suddenly a bit surreal. Though she’d wandered into this hole-in-the-wall tavern on a whim, she had felt more relaxed in the past twenty minutes than she had in days. It was likely a beginning side effect of the alcohol, but it was also the fact that this place was different - simpler and secluded to a degree she was truly appreciating.

Still, she needed to stay beneath the radar for now and being too candid with the hospitable bar owner currently pouring her another glass of Irish whiskey wasn’t going to help her quest for anonymity.

“I guess I just needed to avoid responsibility for a few hours,” Emma offered, her voice vague as he tilted his head in amusement. “Is that awful?”

“There are worse reasons to imbibe-” he countered with a nod toward one of the rowdier corner tables. “-and I hardly doubt your venture here will be as unacceptable as the display that group of sodding fools tends to put on.”

Peeking over her shoulder in the direction he’d just gestured, Emma caught a glimpse of the pack of rather obnoxious men he had just mentioned. They’d clearly been indulging in a high bar tab long before she arrived and their frustration over the display of athleticism on the screen in the corner was plenty loud and quite profane.

“They certainly don’t like whatever team is winning,” Emma commented. “Are they always like this?”

“More or less - but usually more,” he grumbled, tossing a bar rag off to the side. “I’m rather sure they don’t realize that this was actually televised almost a week ago or that it’s a preseason game, but it’s likely they won’t be pleased to find out. That said, I ought to make the rounds. You’ll be okay for a moment?”

“Oh - yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the drink.”

“On the house, lass,” he said in return with a good humored salute. “Stay as long as you like.”

Emma felt her shoulders relax at the welcoming reception she had managed to find. She knew as she held the glass firmly and glanced around the dim space that she could get used to the solitude of a place like this - at least while she had to remain in the confines and close vicinity of royal world. She realized this bar could be her sanctuary of sorts - and so it was only fitting she tried it out again the following night as well.

Arthur had been glad to see her return the following evening, her escape from the palace aided by a very helpful Marco just after she said goodnight to her parents. Neal had returned to school earlier that day, a fact that made sneaking out a bit easier. She’d been somewhat sad to see him head back into one of the many buildings at Eton, but he’d given her a huge hug and a small stack of rather suspicious documents before doing so. She stuffed them into her jacket when he’d offered her that one line of explanation followed by a wink.

“Just in case you’ve yet to truly make up your mind about the next step, Em.”

She hadn’t dared decipher what he meant by that until she arrived back in the secluded bedroom she’d been set up in at Buckingham, but as she dug the stapled papers out of her zippered pocket, it was clear what he was trying to do. There were a variety of the unexpected documents, their professionally bold headers and traditional logos making it immediately clear that they were brochures for higher education. She smirked to herself while flipping through them, noting that Neal had done his best to cover all the bases when he’d likely swiped them from one of the offices at Eton. There was information on a few universities - Oxford and Cambridge, both of which she was positive she'd never be admitted to - and also a couple of others that gave details about institutes like King’s College and Imperial. She’d skimmed the text in acknowledgement of her little brother’s thoughtfulness, but eventually stowed them away in the concealed pouch of her lightweight parka. The pamphlets remained there, hidden alongside her accepted reality that completing her degree wasn’t in the cards any longer while she downed a quick glass of top shelf bourbon at that same pub.

She told herself she could deal with the brochures, Neal, and everything else later - a decision that perhaps sparked her current and third trip to the cozy bar a few blocks away.

“Anything good on tap?”

“Well, there’s a frustrated face if I’ve ever seen one.”

Though the voice was equally happy to welcome her, it didn’t belong to Arthur. This one was full of the clever kindness she’d learned was all Ruby - the girl who was a few years her junior and one of the regular weeknight bartenders. They’d met on the first night Emma had ventured into the building when Arthur had stepped out to take a phone call from the estranged wife who still seemed to have a hold on him, a fact that Ruby had explained while pouring them each a shot of something she definitely hadn’t requested.

That had become somewhat of a theme in Emma’s life recently - accepting things she hadn’t asked for. If she was going to have to keep doing so, she decided that it was probably okay to use a little alcohol to help it all go down easier.

Taking a sip of the offered liquor hadn’t been too difficult - a brand of vodka bottled in France, she eventually learned - as she kept perched on the stool just across the bar top from the long haired brunette with the fiery personality. They’d chatted sporadically for a couple of hours, sharing small details of their lives and laughing over battle stories they’d encountered through years of travel and relocation.

Ruby was from the Great Lakes part of the states and had grown up in a small town surrounded by the tall trees of some very remote woods. She’d been in the care of a single mother until she hit junior high, but had then moved to live across the Atlantic with a very traditional grandmother in the European countryside. Ruby claimed the loving elderly woman had saved her from herself after some rather promiscuous years and had entertained her endlessly with tall tales about sorcery and werewolves. She’d left the old cabin a few years earlier when her grandmother passed, bouncing between a few nearby countries before landing in England. Ruby had quite the colorful past and while Emma thought the girl’s adventures were far more interesting than her own, she couldn’t help but be glad they’d met and bonded - even if it all might be only temporary.

“So,” Ruby started, grabbing a glass from beneath the counter and raising her eyebrows. “What’s got you down, Goldilocks?”

“Really? What’s with the nickname?”

“Hey, I call it like I see it and right now-” Ruby responded as she searched the top shelf for a bottle. “-I see a disgruntled blonde who has come to this Camelot inspired oasis to soothe what troubles her.”

“Very poetic,” Emma acknowledged, setting her jacket aside. “But perhaps we better stick with ‘the pissed off traveler who just learned her plans have gone to hell’.”

“Ah, I like mine better,” Ruby laughed, tapping her chin. “But you know, I think there’s a specific drink for the type of person you’re describing.”

Emma made herself comfortable, something she regretted the moment her new friend plopped a bottle of cinnamon whiskey down between them. Ruby’s red lipstick outlined mouth curved up into a deviant smile that immediately had Emma shaking her head.

“Not happening, barkeep.”

“Oh, come on,” Ruby coaxed. “We don’t get a new shipment in until tomorrow so most of the decent brands are running low anyway. That is, unless you’d rather forego the hard stuff and I can crack open a bottle of that shitty home brewed beer Arthur has been trying to get everyone to buy.”

“I think I’ll pass on the Crimson Crown Ale, thanks,” Emma replied. “But I’m pretty sure shots of that firewater aren’t the best alternative-”

“No, no - no shots, but an exclusive cocktail mixed by yours truly,” the girl told her as she grabbed a few other labels of booze. “You’ve gotta live a little, Emma.”

“Or die of alcohol poisoning,” she countered, her eyes warily regarding Ruby. “What’s in this drink anyway?”

“That’s yet to be totally decided,” Ruby grinned as she grabbed a jar of cherries from below the counter. “I do have a few name options workshopped already though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m thinking maybe like 'Big Bad Something’ or 'Sweet Little Sleeping Curse’,” she carried on, illustrating the ideas with finger quotes and snatching a nearby shot glass. “I vaguely remember learning how to make this drink called a 'Red Riding Hood’, but it’s got a certain vodka base and Arthur prefers to hoard that stuff in the back. I’m pretty sure it’s fuel for drowning his sorrows after last call.”

“Cute, but I have no idea why you’d go with such a whimsical theme,” Emma replied. “I don’t remember the hangover from that stuff being anything remotely like a fairytale.”

“Yeah, I gotta say I don’t either,” Ruby said, a small laugh escaping her as she shoved the random ingredients aside and looked toward the fast opening main entrance. “But, if this was one of those classic storybook tales, we’d now have the role of evil villains filled.”

Her nod toward the door was brief as she grumbled some below the breath remark. It was a shift in the girl’s demeanor that made Emma wonder and she couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder in curiosity. It didn’t take long to pinpoint just who had suddenly put her new friend in an irritated mood - the raucous and rather ignorant group of men she’d been warned about the first time she’d sat upon her current stool. She tried not to stare despite their loud attempt to gain the room’s attention, a disruption that made Ruby sigh loudly as she downed a bit of the spicy alcohol they’d been debating.

“Why don’t you guys kick ever them out?”

“Well, despite their generally asshole behavior, they’re good for business,” Ruby explained. “Sure, they can be annoying, but their bar tab climbs much higher than any other band of idiots who wander in regularly.”

“So this happens a lot?”

“Just a few times a week so it’s manageable for the most part,” she continued while counting napkins. “I’m going to grab that last case of cheap beer from the back really fast - lord knows they’ll probably be over to order some any minute now. Hang out for a bit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Emma smiled. “Planning on it.”

Ruby returned her grin, tying her hair back as she headed for the hall that must have led to the back storage room. Glancing around, Emma soon found her attention falling back on the rowdy men now chatting over a pool table between their rants regarding the game still playing on the television. She was so busy trying to decipher just what made guys like them tick that she failed to notice one of them slink up to the bar at her side.

“You-�� he started, his almost predatory stare zeroing in on her as he tapped his fingers on the bar. “-aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Ah….good call,” she replied casually, silently praying that he’d leave her be. “Just stopping in for a quick drink before I hit the road.”

“Hmmm,” he smirked. “Where might a fine woman like you be going on a night like this?”

Emma felt herself shift away ever so slightly from the smell of fading alcohol hanging on his flirtatious breath. She was really in no mood to spell it out for him, but as he held her involuntary gaze, it became apparent that he wasn’t about to take a hint.

“Back to where my family’s staying - I’m on a trip with them,” she tried, biting her lip as she made an obvious glance toward the clock. “In fact, I really should get going-”

“Oh, come on, beautiful - it’s still early,” he replied as he inched closer. “Have a drink with me.”

“Ummm, thanks….for the offer, I mean, but I-”

“No excuses,” he cut in, his words wrapped in an unsettling whisper. “Have a drink with me.”

Emma felt her shoulders straighten as she fixed her eyes on him, cataloguing his appearance like she’d need to describe it accurately to the police later on. She wasn’t sure if it would be because he’d crossed a line with her or because she’d beat him senseless as a result, but she was extremely certain that everything from his suspicious eyes to his thick black coat made her very uncomfortable. Cowering when confronted was never a road Emma liked to travel though and despite the way he was making her skin crawl, she couldn’t back down from his proposition without a hell of a retort.

“I’m not sure if that’s a request or a demand,” she returned firmly. “But I can promise you that I'm not interested.”

“You really can’t say that yet though,” he chuckled. “You still haven’t heard my offer.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t given you any indication that I’d like to.”

“Just one drink, beautiful….or two, and then I assure you that I-” he drawled as he reached for her glass. “-can make you forget all about your family.”

“Okay, pal, I know we just met and all, but I’m going to need you to back the hell off.”

“Hmmm,” he persisted as he traced her arm. “You’ve got a little fire in you, don’t ya? I have to admit I kinda like that.”

“I said-”

“I believe the lady said no,” another strangely familiar voice cut in. “Step down, mate.”

Emma realized quickly that it wasn’t Arthur and her head swirled with confusion - why did she recognize this voice? Her boundary crossing opponent turned briefly, letting out a hearty chuckle before slamming his half empty beer bottle down on the bar. Emma chanced a look at the other man and though she was somewhat irritated at the 'white knight’ status he apparently wanted to earn, her guard dropped rapidly the moment she learned just who was attempting her rescue.

No way, she thought as her mouth parted. What the hell was he doing there?

She zoned out for a minute, her eyes hooked on just who had an interest in defending her honor. The few words exchanged between him and the persistent jerk at her side were ones she didn’t fully catch as she tried instead to sort out why of all the pubs - or perhaps even gin joints - in the world, he had to walk into this one. It was a thought similar to one once vocalized by a handsome actor in some black and white film her mother loved and she was attempting to recall which one when two fateful words from the protective man a few feet away cut through the haze.

“Try me.”

The chaos that followed was rapid and it took Emma a few moments to realize that a fight was breaking out, but as she watched the guy who’d been hitting on her take a hard punch to the jaw, it became quite clear that she was about to witness exactly what drunk and disorderly truly looked like. She froze for an instant, her view moving back and forth between the fists being thrown as she gasped at the scene. She hated merely standing by in disbelief, but getting dragged into diffusing a situation she didn’t totally understand wasn’t wise.

It was obvious that getting out of there would probably be the safest choice, but as Ruby’s pleading eyes found hers, Emma stepped forward to do….well, something. She just didn’t know what.

“Get the hell out of here, Gideon,” Arthur growled as he managed to shove the instigating man back out the way he’d come in. “Take your crew with you.”

The onlookers were almost too quiet as they watched and Arthur took a deep breath before turning on his heel, announcing there’d be a free round courtesy of himself. The distraction gave Ruby enough time to pull the unsuspecting opponent of the bar brawl into a secluded hallway, but not before waving toward Emma in a last ditch request for assistance. Her feet moved automatically, navigating her through the throes of people elbowing their way up to the bar. The dark haired girl Emma had come to know as an ally was huffing for air by the time they met in the back door corridor.

“Hey, can you….take him to the back? Arthur is about to pour out a handful of apology shots and he’s gonna need help,” Ruby asked, trying to keep him upright. “I just need like fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah - of course,” Emma agreed as she moved closer. “Whatever you need.”

Ruby nodded gratefully and bolted, leaving Emma to observe the aftermath quickly over her shoulder before glancing back toward the disheveled haired prince - a choice that soon caused her flabbergasted reaction. His eyes were a wild blue and wrought with anguish as he steadied himself against the wall. The cut just below his brow was already swelling and had started to bleed in a way that mirrored his injured left hand. His fingers were deep red with knuckles that would likely bruise and he heaved for air with jagged, deep breaths. The way he briefly looked at her was riddled with embarrassment as he appeared to realize who she was as well.

“Hi.”

Her voice was timid upon offering the out of place greeting, but she had no clue what else to say to this man - the one she’d been avoiding who was now cloaked in muffled anger and a spirit that was much less than that of most royalty.

“Hi,” he breathed, his mouth trying on a weak smile before he ripped his sight away again. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He lifted weak fingers to his face, touching his cheek and realizing there was blood making a path down his cheek. He sighed with frustration before glancing back toward her and Emma fought to find some….any reply.

“The surprise is mutual,” she managed. “Are you okay, Your High…uh…”

“Killian,” he responded, defeat heavy in his reminder. “Just Killian, lass.”

Dammit, Emma thought as her mind clouded. This was sure as hell not how she’d hoped her night would go.

Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite this exhausted by his birthright. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the total truth. He’d felt similarly tired the morning Liam had confronted him about his behavior at the bar, but somehow, even that head splitting scolding hadn’t stopped him from returning now to that very same place a few hours after sundown. It had been days since the bar scuffle the greedy tabloids had still managed to pick up on and as soon as he had managed to escape the presence of his observant brother, Killian had felt the familiar urge he’d been prodded with several times over his adult years - the need to feel normal. He’d wondered silently as he snuck down the several shortcut alleyways toward The Round Table if the solitude of a quiet establishment and a stiff drink might offer just that, but he hoped even more so that he might still be welcome at such a place.

His Converse sneakers plodded the pavement as he recognized the fact that he’d likely never be totally banned from the tavern he was headed for. After all, if anybody could knock him off his royal pedestal with a glass of rum and a few honest words, it was definitely Arthur - the man who was his reluctantly understanding confidante and older cousin by about three years.

They were related through the belated princess with Arthur’s father being his own mother’s oldest sibling. The restrictions placed on the royal family had been tested many times by Katherine’s insistence that her young sons maintain a solid bond with her side, especially the several cousins they had through her bloodline. Killian had always been grateful for that. Arthur seemed to comprehend the struggle both he and Liam faced when it came to the crown, even though he’d never know an obligation like that himself. It was a relationship unmatched by many others and despite the fact that Killian hadn’t always made their pact of family all that easy, Arthur had never shut him out - though he had every right to on several occasions.

It wouldn’t have been the first relative to lose faith in the spare to the heir, but fortunately, things had never turned out that way with the bartending man he somewhat resembled and truly loved. Killian knew that as difficult as it might be, he once again needed to make things right while he could.

Liam had been busy when he decided to slip away from Buckingham Palace, his regal and slightly inconvenient home away from home. He understood why his older brother felt it necessary to keep temporary quarters at the grand building while the admiral’s family was visiting, but Killian’s own reasons for staying in one of the lavish guest rooms was something not even he could totally explain. Perhaps it was for some unknown desire to not be the only prince lingering on the Kensington grounds or maybe it was a need to stay in the know about whatever military changes might be underway, but deep down, he knew his hope that he might run into a certain blonde was definitely part of it.

For the record, he hadn’t seen her - and it was driving him crazy.

Sure, the royal property his grandmother lived upon was huge, but not so much that he shouldn’t have caught a glimpse of the green eyed girl over the few days since the afternoon at Eton. He’d speculated that she might be avoiding him and while he wasn’t totally sure why, he had to admit that he’d been a little nervous to locate her - and that had everything to do with the book he had concealed beneath a pillow on the four post bed he’d been using for some constant tossing and turning.

He blinked rapidly as he paused outside of the door, tugging a beat up flask from his pocket and taking a quick swig. He’d never been great at dropping his pride to offer an apology, but he knew this was important - and he could only pray that his quick dose of rum would allow him to remember that once he entered the building

“About time you showed up.”

Killian had barely stepped inside the dimly lit space and entered the back room office when he was greeted with chiding words from the owner himself. He deserved the taunt he supposed, but it didn’t keep him from tossing Arthur an automatic eye roll. The man was busy penciling something on an order form, but the task didn’t prevent him from holding the upper hand in their bantering exchange.

“I suppose I ought to be a bit more welcoming as the owner of a small business and all, but-” his cousin offered distractedly, finally peering toward him with a raised brow. “-I’ve only recently had that glass out front repaired.”

“Aye,” Killian sighed with a slump against the doorway after he set an envelope next to the paper. “I’m hoping this might cover that - and if not, that you’ll let me know.”

Arthur almost instantly slid the folded paper pouch back across his trademark desk in the direction it had come from. Killian lifted an eyebrow before returning a steadfast stare, but it was soon apparent that his relative wasn’t about to accept the gesture of a few higher end bills. It truly was a pathetic way to attempt making amends and one that definitely shouldn’t be necessary. The healing battle wounds that were finally fading from his own guilty face were proof that he owed Arthur at least that much - even if he’d known from the start that the proud bar owner wouldn’t take it.

“You know that royal salary of yours has never been worth much around here,” his older relative told him. “I’m merely stating the hope that we won’t have to have this endearing conversation again for a while. I mean, the chairs around the tables opposite that new window do need replacing, but I’d rather-”

“Got it, mate,” Killian nodded, pressing his lips together. “For the record, I’m sorry-”

“I know you are-” Arthur smiled. “-and that’s the only thing that makes it okay.”

He still wasn’t totally sure why this man tolerated him, but as Arthur flipped his pencil toward the doorway in salute, Killian reminded himself to stop taking that for granted.

“Now,” the man sighed as he found his feet. “How about some rum and ranting? Sounds like we both need it.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “You have no idea, mate.”

“Well, I’m excited to learn then,” he returned, slapping the envelope of cash against Killian’s chest before heading for the hallway. “You’re buying - oh, and grab that bin of clean glasses on your way up.”

Killian smirked to himself as he lifted the box, his feet trailing after the owner. He’d entertained the idea of a life like this many times before - how it would be to swap out kegs and care for a humble business like the one his cousin had built from nearly nothing. He had always appreciated the way Arthur could assimilate him with a simple comment or a thoughtless instruction. Sure, most royals wouldn’t stand for a world centered around menial tasks, but Killian thrived on the idea of being ordinary.

It was an odd envy he held for people like Arthur, but it was also a desire that was very disrespectful to the crown - which is exactly why he chose not to mention it to anyone.

“So, how’s your brother? Still constantly worrying about you?”

“Among other things,” Killian shrugged as his cousin took the rattling crate of fragile glass. “You know Liam - saving the free world one weary soul at a time.”

“Aye,” Arthur laughed as he turned toward the shelf housing a few bottles. “I suppose it’s a hazard of such an authoritarian job. What else is new with you?”

Killian halted with a sigh, his eyes scanning the bar instead of conjuring up an answer that wouldn’t raise suspicion with the man who’d just asked him a casual question. Arthur knew all about the upcoming royal events courtesy of his bond with Liam and he wasn’t one to often seek out small talk. He knew his cousin was attempting to learn what had taken him so long to wander back by the corner pub and while he wasn’t sure that lying was the best route, he knew one thing for sure - he couldn’t tell Arthur about Emma and the way her presence as well as absence seemed to be consuming him.

There wasn’t much to tell anyway, he thought quietly. She was just visiting and she’d be gone eventually so divulging what little information he had seemed futile. Bottling it all up for now was the best plan - and lord knows he’d gotten good at that over the years.

“Just trying to fill a few roles for Gran,” he offered vaguely. “Mostly little stuff - taking over her rugby patronage and attending a charity thing later this week.”

“Good for you,” Arthur nodded, pouring them both a glass of the bar’s best rum. “Liam mentioned you have some palace visitors currently?”

The color drained slightly from Killian’s face as he cleared his throat before taking a swallow from the fresh drink. He wasn’t sure how much his annoyingly honest older brother had said, but he instantly wished Liam had for once kept his mouth shut. His sight drifted toward the opposite end of the room, finding Ruby soon enough and wondering if he might use needing to catch up with her as an excuse to avoid this conversation. It took only seconds of watching to realize the dark haired girl was busy tending to another patron, one he almost recognized. Long blonde hair, nervous posture, a laugh he could barely hear….

“Anyone you know?”

Killian had been so briefly entranced by who he imagined the girl sitting at a fair distance could be that he almost thought that’s who Arthur was referring to. Of course he wasn’t though - he was inquiring about Admiral Nolan’s family. Killian straightened his shoulders as he tried to focus on the discussion at hand.

“No, it’s, ummm, just a….family from up north,” Killian answered, tearing his eyes away from what was obviously a half-assed hallucination. “They’re leaving soon I believe.”

“Oh - that's….not what I heard.”

He was about to ask Arthur what the hell that meant when he caught the sound of a voice he was truly in no frame of mind to deal with. He was relieved that the tone wasn’t directed at him, but slightly unsettled that its usual venom laced accent had been replaced by a pathetically sultry one. Such seduction was often aimed toward Ruby - who was perfectly capable of putting the man who caused frequent commotion right back in his place - but this time, the heavy flirtation was aimed toward the girl Ruby had been chatting with. His eyes narrowed as he watched for a moment and his blood seemed to simmer without explanation. Sure, it was beyond annoying to see Gideon strutting around like he owned the place - though Arthur had told him many times that wasn’t the case - but for some reason, this particular display was even more infuriating.

“Shit,” Arthur said as he pieced together what was happening. “I didn’t think he’d be in tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Killian assured him, biting his lip as he tried to convince himself of that as well. “Who’s Ruby talking to over there?”

“Ah, you mean the blonde? Lass from across the pond somewhere,” his cousin answered. “She’s been in a few nights this week.”

“Has she just recently become the object of Gideon’s affection?”

“Hey,” Arthur said quickly, shaking his head. “Not worth it, Killian.”

“What?”

“You know what,” he stared, lifting his brow. “We established long ago that Gideon is an idiot and though his intentions likely aren’t the best, I’m quite positive that girl can take care of herself.”

Killian glanced the girl’s way once more, trying to find the belief that the man behind the bar was correct. He wasn’t about to jump in and fight a battle that might not be necessary, especially given how his last scuffle went, but he knew standing idly by while Gideon acted like an arrogant casanova wasn’t something he could manage. There were really only two plans of action and since the first one hadn’t panned out so well in the past, he opted to take the second as he finished his rum.

“I should head out,” he told Arthur, dropping the envelope on the counter and rising to his feet with a smirk. “For your trouble - or perhaps the kind I caused you.”

“Smart ass,” Arthur grumbled with a shake of his head. “Be safe, mate.”

Killian nodded once before turning toward the door in brief contemplation. He could easily leave through the back, sneaking out the hidden exit as stealthily as he’d entered. It would probably even be for the best since any attention he and Gideon might pay each other probably wouldn’t be the positive sort. He tried to remind himself of all of this as his feet carried him toward the main door, a path he regretted the second he noticed just how close the other man had moved to the girl he felt he needed to guard.

Maybe it was the way she appeared to be so uncomfortable in the close confines his nemesis had trapped her in or maybe it was the blatant refusal he heard her offer as he passed by. Maybe it was even simply Gideon’s failure to yield as she continued to push him away. Whatever the cause was, Killian felt his grip pause from reaching for the door handle and his body abruptly turn back around.

“I believe the lady said no,” Killian stated in a low tone, his glare full of warning as his rival looked up. “Step down, mate.”

Surprise filled Gideon’s face as a cunning grin took over his mouth, a sure sign that this wouldn’t be civil in the least. Bloody hell, Killian thought as his skin prickled. He didn’t need this tonight.

“Well, look what the palace spit out,” Gideon sneered. “Back for more, are ya?”

Killian felt his breath hitch as he clenched his fists, trying to quell the anger that was tempting him to end their exchange of words with a swift right hook. The feeling was a well known one - he’d never gotten along with the man who was trying his hardest to pick a fight. Gideon Gold was an abolitionist with a penchant for drinking, gambling, and taking cheap shots in rugby matches. Their dislike for one another had been ongoing for years, but the feud they’d once endured had only just come back into play with the recent fight. Killian had tried to hold back that night, but when Gideon had decided to drag the royal family’s name through the mud, he’d snapped.

He couldn’t let that happen this time though. He had to walk away - pride be damned.

“No,” Killian replied, clipped and firm as he refused to break the man’s stare. “I’m not here to fight you, Gideon, but you best not give me a reason to think twice about that.”

“Well luckily, you won’t need to, your highness. When we’re through here, you won’t be doing much thinking about anything.”

The challenge was there, thrown between them with the threatening curve of the man’s smirk. Killian felt his temper spike as his defenses rose, his lips pressed together as he tried to brace for whatever came next. He hadn’t come here to start a war, but he also hadn’t expected to see the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about stuck in the line of fire. He couldn’t let Gideon win this one - and it was that conclusion that pulled two very bold words from his mouth.

“Try me.”

It all happened shockingly fast - the sound of glasses breaking and a gruff yell of Ruby’s name that sounded urgent. The dark haired girl dropped the box of beer bottles instantly and bolted to where Arthur had suddenly appeared, his cousin’s arms fighting to shove him back toward the hallway. He’d barely gotten in a solid hit when he realized he’d taken one as well, his feet carrying him backward weakly as his thoughts blurred. Killian realized then that he’d lost sight of the girl during the commotion, a detail that wasn’t helpful even though the vague observation of Arthur pushing his rival out the door was. He managed to hobble back toward the office courtesy of Ruby and his back hit the exposed brick wall with a thud while he tried to right himself. He was attempting to do that much when he was joined by Ruby and another girl - well, the girl.

Emma, he thought as his heart pounded violently.

He didn’t hear much as the dark haired lass usually manning the bar spoke to the blonde he truly didn’t want seeing him like this, but when Ruby sped back down the hallway and left the pair of them alone, Killian realized he didn’t have much of a choice. She peered up at him with questioning eyes, taking a few steps forward with caution.

“Hi.”

Her gentle greeting was shy, her teeth pressing against her bottom lip as she waited to gauge his response. He felt truly miserable, but it wasn’t fair to act like an ass when she had opted to stick around for this.

“Hi….didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The surprise is mutual,” she answered after a moment. “Are you okay, Your High…uh…”

“Killian,” he assisted, not feeling the least bit worthy of a royal title - not that he’d ever want her to address him as such anyway. “Just Killian, lass.”

“Right,” she started in a nervous tone, clearing her throat. “So….the back?”

“Over-” he barely nodded, his head gesturing toward a dark room. “-there.”

She took his arm gently, her touch a light brush of fingers that created a loose grip around his bicep. Trying not to lean into her, Killian took the several stumbles that would land them in a storage area he’d only seen a couple of times before. The overhead lights flickered on, forcing him to squint as he took in the new environment. It was mostly boxes stacked high alongside a wine cabinet his cousin kept well stocked. The letters on the labels came into focus after a moment and he tried to read a few, his efforts eventually halting when she ushered him toward a lone chair by a sink in the corner.

“Sit down,” she told him with a tilt of her head. “Your hand is cut-”

“It's….fine-”

“No, it’s not,” she argued, her voice direct but caring. “Now, sit. Let me….just let me help you.”

He gave up rather fast, closing his eyes to avoid the glare of the fluorescent bulbs burning far too brightly before the sound of running water forced his exhausted stare back to her. She’d pulled a light blue towel from some box behind him and had started to wet the material, obviously intending to assist him in cleaning the blood and shame off his face. She’d probably be good at the former, her insistence in doing so making him think she might be even more stubborn than he typically was. It was the second part that she likely wouldn’t be able to help him with.

“Here,” she offered, lifting the cloth toward his eye. “Chin up.”

He did as requested, inhaling sharply at the feel of a damp towel on his fresh wound. She seemed to find his reaction a bit entertaining and it poked at his crumbling pride just enough for him to respond.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

He realized almost instantly how misstated his words were. The quiet scoff she offered told him so too as she rinsed the rag quickly before returning her attention to the large cut. He truly had no right to set boundaries on whatever she chose to do within or outside palace walls and he was reminded of that as she swiped the cloth along his red stained cheek a little harder than was needed.

“Well, if my conclusions are the tiniest bit correct then-” she retorted, pausing when he hissed a low sound of discomfort. “-neither are you.”

“Conclusions?”

“I’m observant enough to know that wasn’t your first fight with whoever that was,” she clarified, her sights now studying his hand. “In fact, I think I remember seeing a recent photo of you that proves that.”

“Ah, I must say I didn’t think you’d be a tabloid reader,” he replied. “You know that’s the same old publication that would have you believe the Queen is a frivolous drunk.”

“Yeah, while using the gossip column as a news outlet can be very interesting,” she laughed, scouting out a cotton bandage roll from the first aid kit below the sink and setting it aside. “I’m also just….good at reading people.”

She wasn’t lying - he could tell that much as he watched her eyes decipher the current situation. It scared him on some level to think that she might understand him more than she was letting on, but the soothing movement of her touch as she tended to his hand made his insecurity a little easier to ignore - at least for now.

“There,” she said softly as she looked up for a sign of validation. “Better?”

“Thank you,” he nodded as he regained some sense, his eyes falling carefully on the way her fingers and the bandage curled gently around his hand. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him. “After all, this is kind of indirectly my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” he disagreed. “I just didn't….well, you shouldn’t have to deal with Gideon Gold - and I guess the idea of being a gentleman lead me to being a bit rash.”

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman,” she smiled, looking down at his wrapped knuckles. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“I’m always a gentleman,” he grinned in return. “But I guess I haven’t proved that much in the past.”

Killian bit his lip as her smile shifted to a smirk, the feel of his teeth on the minor wound reminding him that his choice was a bad one. The past, he thought briefly - did they even have one of those? Their interactions up to this point hadn’t been totally honest or all that coordinated, but it was still something.

He wondered quietly if she felt that way too.

“It’s okay,” she said after a moment. “But for future reference, I can take care of myself you know.”

“I suppose I should have recognized that.”

“Well, in your defense, we don’t exactly know each other,” she replied, shaking her head immediately. “I mean, we don’t really-”

“Aye,” he cut in with a smirk. “I should apologize for that too.”

“For the balcony or for bumping into me?”

“Both,” he shrugged. “Not my finest moments.”

“Or….mine, I guess,” she told him. “But maybe, we should just….start over?”

“Hmmm,” he sighed, lowering his hand. “How’s that?”

He was having a hell of a time not staring at her. Her hair hung loosely in waves that shifted on her shoulders each time she moved and the constantly changing expression on her face kept him guessing despite the throbbing in his rattled skull. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how beautiful she was, but the close proximity they’d now found themselves in seemed to magnify this attraction he had to her. Starting over was probably the best offer he could hope for given their rather odd beginning and he waited to hear just how she planned on initiating that, his gaze analyzing the curve of her lips in the meantime.

“Emma Nolan,” she said with a rather adorable half smile. “Nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

He grinned slowly, the slight stretch of his lower lip testing the scar that was likely forming there from the last battle with Gideon. There was something so casually innocent and sweet about her actually offering a real introduction that he couldn’t help but play right into it.

“Aye, a pleasure, lass-” he countered, slightly raising his eyebrow. “-and Killian will do.”

“Okay then-” she finally conceded. “-Killian.”

Her eyes were even more green than he’d originally concluded, the deep emerald hue of them paired with a hint of forgiveness he truly hadn’t earned. The pain brought on by his recent conflict in the bar seemed to fade ever so slightly as he held her gaze with a fascination he didn’t understand. There was something about her - something so guarded and beautifully hidden in her eyes - and he let a goal of unmasking it form in his weary mind. The fact that she’d be gone soon prodded him and he felt his shoulders shrink with the cruelty of that knowledge.

Why had he wasted so much time? Why had he been avoiding this? Why in the bloody hell did she captivate him in such a vexing way?

“God, there you are,” Arthur gasped, his sudden presence causing their staring contest to lapse. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah….yes - fine,” Killian answered, trying to pick the right words. “Look, I didn’t know he would….I’m sor-”

“It’s alright, Killian - that wasn’t you,” Arthur assured him, looking toward Emma curiously before resuming his breathless speech. “Glad you’re fixed up. Can you stand?”

“Aye-”

“Okay, good….and I hate to add insult to literal injury, but while that wasn’t pretty, things are about to get a lot worse,” Arthur warned, his eyes anxious and filled with concern. “Your brother is on his way. We need to get you out of here.”

Tagging some friends: @xpumpkindumplingx, @jennifer-morrison, @spartanguard, @laschatzi, @kat2609, @eala-captian, @allietumbles, @andiirivera, @kmomof4, @galadriel26, @timeless-love-story, @msres, @harryandthecambridges, @thesschesthair, @its-like-a-story-of-love, @lovelycssefan, @hooksheroicheart, @cat-sophia, @gonzothegreat90, @rebelcxptain, @prairiepirate, @yesplskillianjones, @jennjenn615, @heomomka, @fckyesroyals, @lenfazreads, @cherrywolf713, @lucasxdorothy, @lifeinahole27, @hollyethecurious, @fairytalesandtimetravel, @pirateherokillian, @shipsxahoy, @onceuponarelm, @winterbaby89, @captain-k-jones, @weall-l00k-the-same-inthe-dark, @shady-swan-jones, @captainswanparrilla, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @princesseslikepirates, @sherifffjones, @deathbycaptainswan

[askjennie]

I have this friend that's trying to date more cuz she wants a real relationship that will stay. I'm happy that she's doing it, but she has dated a few guys (normally for no more than a few weeks) and she says she loves them. She basically moved in with a guy a few days after she met him. They all ended bad. She blames herself (not all were her fault) she comes to me and complains and cries. I'm glad she can talk to me, but it's so often and I'm tired of it. (Part 1)

Continued: I’m so bad with advice. I’m more of a sarcastic comment or joke kinda person. She constantly cries to me and complains about things. Pretty much everything. I cared at first but now it’s just ‘what she does’. I have problems too. I won’t talk about them, even if someone asked, cuz I just don’t like talking about it. But it would be nice to hear “How are you doing? Are you Okay?” Once in a while. (Part 2)I don’t like bothering people with my problems. And I’m uncomfortable talking about it anyway. I just don’t like talking about my feelings. I don’t like feeling vulnerable around anyone. I’m the strong one. I’m the one who carries everyone’s problems along with my own. But that’s who I am. I refuse to cry in front of people or show those kinda feelings in any way.(part 3)I guess what I’m trying to say is that, do people talk to me just to complain? I mean, I always listen to them but the second I decide to open up just a tiny bit, they dont listen or just start talking about themselves. So that happens and I decide to never do that again. But I’m fine with it, like I said. I share just enough that people think they know me. But they really dont. I don’t want them to. (Part 4)I am alone, really. But I like it like that. I don’t trust anyone much. Well, I do, just not enough to share everything with them (thoughts, feelings, etc.) Wow I rambled. I’m so sorry. I honestly don’t know what happened. I hope you can understand kind of what I’m trying to say here… thanks in advance!! :) (Part 5)

Jennie: Something that I’ve noticed is that people who are very open about their emotions and their problems tend to find that their friends openly listen to them and support them. People who are very closed off and never talk about their problems tend to find that their friends stop asking, and don’t offer emotional support simply because they don’t have that kind of relationship. That may or may not be what’s happening here. But if you never talk about what’s bothering you, it’s possible that your friends don’t ask because they know you won’t answer, and there’s no point continuing to try and get you to talk. It’s also possible that you’ve found friends who don’t want to give much emotional support to anyone in the first place, and have gravitated towards you because they don’t want to be friends with people who talk about their problems all the time.

If you want people to listen, you need to share. Maybe you’ll find that your friends are happy to listen to you if you actually let them know that you want to talk about something. Maybe you’ll find that they’re not very supportive friends, and maybe you’d be better off finding ways to meet new people, to find people who might be more supportive. But either way, you won’t know unless you make an effort to open up. To a good friend, you won’t be bothering them. Sharing your emotions and your problems can be a positive experience for both of you.

[meulinthekittytroll]

Rant af I'm sorry

Yunno I don’t know what my dads problem is with my boyfriend. He doesn’t like him, at all. And I honestly have no idea why. Maybe it’s because this is the only relationship he’s seen me in? I’m not sure But if my dad could have seen all my past relationships he’d understand why B is probably the only one I could ever want to be with. There were some major people who impacted my life in negative ways and I’m still recovering from them. I will point out the major ones First there was David. He tried to kill me once, and manipulated me and made my self esteem plummet. (Grade 3-7) Yes, I know, 3rd through 7th grade and he tried to KILL you? Are you over exaggerating? No I’m not lol. Then there was Devin. He was the first boy to cheat on me. Which made my self esteem plummet even further. He also was the first boy to treat me… like I wasn’t a person I guess?? I don’t know how to describe that one but it made me feel very inferior. (Grade 6) young I know but shoosh this shit can happen at any age if you let it happen. Then there was Max. We never actually dated, but he is still very important because oh boy I crushed on this boy HARD from 8th to 10th grade. He and I had a thing going on in 8th grade but never quite did anything about it which only made me like him more. Then 9th grade came along and we only got closer but still didn’t quite do anything. (I also had a boyfriend at that time that I’ll get to in JUST a second) Finally 10th grade came along and I FINALLY made a move, only to get shot down, HARD. That was partly my fault I suppose for being too scared to tell him my feelings earlier than that. But still, ouch ouch that hurt me a lot. Jacob, the boyfriend mentioned just a second ago, this was a long distance relationship. He was a couple years older than me and I had never met him in person, I dated him because I was extremely lonely. This lasted almost a year, but not quite. It started out really fun because I could lowkey flirt with Max but still have someone to go home to and text and get the feelings of love that Max didn’t give me, I know I know that’s borderline cheating but hey I was in 9th grade and I was stupid in love with Max and it was just a messy time in my life and Ive obviously learned from it and cheating is disgusting ugh……. ihatemyselfAAAAnyways, as the months rolled by, things slowly went downhill with this Jacob kid. He just was a downer. We both were depressed and got even sadder when we realized we couldn’t meet for a long time blah blah you get the point everything was a mess and he made me extremely unhappy, that was a very toxic relationship and I’m glad nothing ever became of it. I haven’t talked to him in almost a year, I hope he’s doing well. Also in 10th grade I developed this crush on this boy named Anthony and he was a dorky kind of cute, tall and scrawny but still muscly, I dug it. I flat out told him I liked him bc I didn’t want another Max situation and he seemed interested at first until he told one of his friends that doubled as my friend that he wasn’t interested so I obviously found out and got shot down again. Ouch! When that didn’t happen I started talking to a good friend I also met over the internet named Gavin and wowie did this boy make me feel wanted and loved. I had a brief thing with him previously but it never followed through, due to the fact that he was a dickbag and cheated on me and blamed it on some personality disorder where he needed more than one girlfriend to be satisfied *cough* bullshit *cough* but anyways, I tried it with him again the summer going into 11th grade c he was sooooooo sorry and loved me soooo much and wanted to marry me (gag!) anyways, things were good for a while but then he slowly stopped talking to me and cheated again and all this other shit and as my confidence in myself slowly went down the garbage disposal as it had been since like 4th grade, I finally told myself enough is enough and told him I was done with him. I told myself I was done with boys until the right one came along and treated me right. As a junior at a new school with no friends, I assumed it would take until junior year of COLLEGE to even consider boys again (besides possibly sleeping around once I got too tired of being a virgin kek) But yunno, life throws unexpected things at you. I remember the night so clearly. I went to bed finally content with being alone, not having to worry about any boy cheating on me or making me feel bad or putting me down constantly. Then, wouldn’t you know it, the NEXT FUCKIN DAY, this super duper cute boy I had seen a few times around school walked into my first period photography class. And I thought to myself “fuck.” Bc I immediately knew something would happen between us. This boy was he perfect mix of goofy, nerdy, and cute as fuck, with a hint of holy shit you’re SEXY. Exactly my type. Tall, dark, and handsome (a spongebob reference has never been more relatable) ((besides maybe “i’m surrounded my idiots”)) ANNYYYWAYS Me and this kid start talking bc I grew a pussy (not balls bc balls are sensitive and vaginas take a pounding) and gave the kid my Snapchat. That same day I reaaallly wanted a chance to talk to him so I posted a pic on my story of me and my dog havin’ a blast (rip Lily u will be missed ily thank you for being the reason the loml messaged me for the first time) anywho, HE MESSAGED ME FIRST AND WE STARTED TALKING AND SHIT bc he thought my dog was cute af (which she was!!!!) and we kept talking and talking and found we had so much in common and finallyyyy we admitted to each other we liked each other and started dating soon after and I’m spare you all the mushy details of how that came to be. Back to the reason why I started writing this little rant/story in the first place. My dad borderline hates the guy. But what my dad doesn’t understand (which is a lot but these next few sentences are important) Every single relationship I’ve had, was with a guy who has done nothing but lead me on, cheat on me, or abuse me (both physically (which only happened twice thank god) and mentally (which happened SO MUCH OH MY GOD it’s so much harder to catch that than actually getting physically abused) Yet, my current boyfriend…. we’re gonna call him B, bc his name is unique and I don’t want people knowing who I am if this ever gets read by someone who knows me and cares enough to read though all of this. B is the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out. He makes me feel important. He makes every day a blessing. When I first moved in with my dad in the beginning of 11th grade, I was a complete shut in. I hardly ever left my room besides to eat and bathe. After I met B, I started opening up and spending time with the family, and I made such amazing friends at school that I would have never talked to if it weren’t for him. B makes everything exciting. Of course we have had our fair share of bumps in the road, but ever healthy relationship does. And yunno what else healthy relationships do? They talked them through and fix the problems!!! B has made it so clear to me that I am worth all of the shit that goes on sometimes, and believe me I can be crazy so that is saying something. And oh boy is he a package deal too. He’s constantly got something going on, he’s quite frankly an idiot sometimes. But hey, he’s my idiot! I’ve never woken up and been happy about being alive since I was like 10, until B came around. B completely flipped my view of the world around. We tell each other this thing all the time because weird kinda opposites when it comes to certain things. He looks like the moon, but is the sun. And I look like the sun, but am the moon. He has dark hair and he’s got olive skin (very Italian looking) looking like a human version of the moon. But he has this optimistic view on life, the personality of the sun. Then there’s me; golden brown hair with fair skin, I look like the sun. But I’m kinda a pessimist, and I also am quite the night owl (he definitely isn’t!) personality of the moon. That might not make sense to you, but it does to us. I’m getting side tracked. The whole fuckin point is, I hadn’t felt true happiness since I was 10 until I met this guy. My dad says we aren’t going to last. My dad barely even lets me see him outside of school once a week, and when he does let me he always gives this disapproving scowl and scoff when I ask to see my boyfriend (who I have been with for well over a year now) once a week. Oh and by the way, he LIVES with his girlfriend who he’s only been dating a few more months than B and I have been. I wonder what he’d feel like if the roles were reversed. Yunno? Like he gets to see his gf every day and sleep next to her ever night, but the moment I want to see B, I get a scowl and a reluctant confirmation that I can see him on the day I asked to see him on. I’m sorry for all this rant and I know it’s probably all over the place but I just really really had to get it out because I don’t know why my dad is so unhappy with me being with a guy who makes me so happy. It’s not like B is a delinquent. He has two jobs (one is a photography business, he does really well with it actually he shoots for weddings and shit he’s an amazing photographer ((he only took the photography class at my school for the credit and to laugh at how low quality everything was at the school and how badly they taught it))) and he’s polite and respectful. My father truly has no reason to not like him, he has no idea how badly I’ve been treated up until I met B. B treats me better than anyone ever has, including my dad. Everyone else in my family loves him! Not nearly as much as I love the son of a bitch tho. I truly grew up from 3rd grade on getting belittled and cheated on and made to feel terrible, and if my dad knew that or understood it, maybe he wouldn’t hate the boy that made me happy to be alive again. Thank u for the ppl who took the time to read this through even tho I doubt anyone will do that bless u ilysm