#this post has been sponsored by me spending hours thinking over how I want my personal site im making to look and act | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elisysd · 1 year ago

Text

27. Take the moment and taste it, you’ve got no reason to be afraid

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: You’re On Your Own, Kid - Taylor Swift

The next few days were all so weird and awkward between Julia and Ethan. She was finding it hard to be in the same room as him without having thoughts of what could happen if only they were alone. She couldn’t help herself to over analyze and overthink every side glance, every touch and every word, trying to find in them a deeper meaning. It was tiring. But at least it made Ashley happy as she was always saying that the tension between them looked real and that everyone would buy the act and that the fans would even love them. They didn’t have the time to talk about what had happened, neither of them knowing how to address the situation and Julia was actually glad her dad gave her the access to all the documents and data that she needed to start to work on an upgrade plan that he wanted her to pitch him after the Monaco Grand Prix. It was a welcome escape to Julia as she was spending hours locked in her room when it was not in meetings with her dad. She had barely seen Ethan unless for a few planned photoshoots that Ashley desperately wanted to see them post on their social media now that they were official. Julia even received new Vuitton handbags as it was a sponsor and wanted her to promote the brand, something she still was not comfortable with. As she was now jobless, she would be able to watch the races and it was naturally that Ashley asked her, or more didn’t give her the choice but to do it from the Maserati garage. Julia had tried to tell her that she wanted to still support her dad and that she didn’t have to always be there to which Ashley had argued that it wouldn’t have a good look if she was anywhere else. It was annoying to Julia. Even if she wanted to be there to support Ethan, she hated how the PR team always seemed to treat her like an easily disposable element.

The Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix went by in the blink of an eye. She barely managed to get alone with Ethan, much to her dismay as he always was needed somewhere and a part of her wondered if it was because he genuinely had things to do or if he was trying to avoid her. Again. But still, she hoped that now that the race was over, they would finally have time to talk. But that was without counting on Ethan’s redhead teammate that found Julia waiting in front of the Maserati hospitality, playing with her VIP badge and decided to join her.

“Are you waiting for Ethan too?” asked Chloe with a bright smile on her face.

“What do you mean, too? You want to see him as well?”

“Well yeah, he offered to drive me back to the hotel so I can collect my things and since we are supposed to fly back to Nice tonight he thought we could go all together. So, I’m waiting as well. It was a fun race, right?”

Julia couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to drive her to her dad’s hotel so she could pick up her suitcase and then they would be heading to the airport together to meet their friends. Never did he mention Chloe which made her think that it had been a last minute decision and comforted her in how he was trying to not be left alone with her. Did he think that she couldn’t behave? That she would be unable to keep her hands to herself?

“Very nice of him.” stated Julia in a colder voice than intended.

“Yeah, he is! You are so lucky to have him. He is such a great guy.”

Julia was about to answer when she saw a red t-shirt leaving the Ferrari hospitality.

“Martin, hey!” she called out, waving at him.

He looked up in her direction, surprised to hear her voice and approached the two girls.

“Are you heading to the hotel?” asked Julia.

“Well, yeah… why?”

“Perfect. Would it bother you if I was coming with you? Ethan was supposed to drive me there, but Chloe is tagging along and he has to make a quick detour to get her to her hotel. And I want to see my dad before he heads back to Monaco. It’s not the same direction and I don’t want to bother anyone.” she quickly explained.

“Sure, if you want. I don’t mind. Are you sure it will be fine with Ethan?” still asked Martin.

“Don’t worry about that! Chloe, can you tell Ethan that I left with Martin? And please insist on the fact that I’m with Martin. Don’t hesitate to repeat it if he doesn’t react. Thank you.”

She knew that it was stupid. That it was her jealousy doing the talking but she didn’t care. He was starting to get on her nerves.She gave a tight smile to Chloe, leaving her there as she linked her arm to Martin’s and started to walk towards the exit. Martin didn’t really understand what was happening as he turned his head to Chloe mouthing " I'm sorry”. They managed to leave without attracting attention and as soon as Julia was in the car, next to Martin, he turned to her.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Julia… I don’t want to be thrown in the middle of whatever you and Ethan have going on. You know what I feel for you, it’s not fair.”

“You didn’t have to say yes if it bothers you so much!”

“That’s the thing, I can’t say no to you. And I don’t want to. But that doesn’t mean you have to use it against me.”

She stayed silent, only playing with the little italian flag on her bracelet. He was right, it was not fair to use him like that.

“I’m sorry… It’s just Ethan that acts once again like a dick and it pisses me off.”

“What did he do this time?” asked Martin, entering on the highway.

“One day he is all nice and cute and the next he acts as if I was not existing, ignoring me and trying his best to not be alone with me. I don’t understand. What is wrong with me?”

“I would say, what is wrong with him? Would you be with me, I would show you off every chance I could get.”

And she knew he was speaking the truth. And it hurt. Because she didn’t want Martin to be the one holding her hand. She didn’t want Martin to be the one driving her crazy in the most amazing ways. She didn’t want Martin to be the one who would kiss her. And most of all, it wasn’t his face she was dreaming about every night for the past few nights leaving her hot and bothered when she would wake up the next morning.

“I’m sorry… I know I’m not supposed to say that, Julia. It’s just… it pains me to see you with someone that clearly cares more about how being with you makes him look good than making you feel good to be with him. You deserve better.”

And no matter how wrong it was, Julia started to think that maybe, he was right. Once in the hotel and her bag picked up, she met Martin in the lobby that was still waiting for her. They were about to head out when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and Ethan’s name popping on the screen. She hesitated to answer and let the call drop by itself but she knew him and she knew that he would keep on calling he until she finally answered

“What?” she said, picking up the phone.

“Where are you and what are you doing with Martin? I’m at the airport. I’m waiting for you.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not flying to Nice with you, change of plans.”

“What do you mean? Are you flying there with him?”

“You can still ask Chloe to fly next to you, I’m sure she would love it. She loves spending time with you and apparently you do too since you don’t even bother to warn me when she tags along.”

“So that’s what it is about? You’re jealous. Again. How many times do I have to tell you that you have no reasons to be. I like Chloe but she is not the one I want to see coming over my fingers.”

She let out a small gasp and felt her cheeks burning.

“You can’t say things like that and then keep on ignoring me. I told you that it was hurting me and you said you wouldn’t do it anymore…”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy and having you around didn’t make things easier.”

“Jeez, thanks…” she gritted between her teeth.

She heard him sigh, a few footsteps to go to what she assumed was a more private area and then his voice.

“Do you want to know why I’ve been distant this week? Because I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve avoided being alone with you because I wouldn’t have been able to contain myself around you. Do you know how many cold showers I’ve taken this week, Julia? Way too many. So please, don’t think for one second that I don’t want to be with you. Because it’s not the case. Not at all. So now, will you come with me or should I say to our friends that you won’t tag along?”

She wanted to go back to him, to say sorry and to curl up in his arms but crossing Martin’s gaze that was obviously waiting for her, she didn’t want him to feel worse than he already did.

“I’m sorry too… I see you in Monaco, okay?”

“Julia…”

But she hung up and Ethan let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to punch a wall or even better to hit his head against one. He went back to his friends that were all looking at him and shook his hands, silently telling them that Julia wouldn’t tag along.

“Is it because of me? I think she doesn’t really like me.” asked Chloe walking next to him.

“No it’s me who is stupid. And she is stubborn. Not a great mix. But I’ll talk to her later.”

Chloe shrugged, readjusted her back pack and trotted around to Ludwig who was very happy to have someone he could talk to during the flight. And for once, it would be Ethan that would be alone. Against his will. He contemplated the idea of waiting for Julia and taking her with him but he knew he would only get a good old slap and he didn’t have it in himself to fight her.

Once in a plane he plopped down on a seat and let out a huge sigh when he saw Kyle and Romy all cuddled up in front of him. Kyle had a hand around her shoulder as she was resting her head on his chest. He had a soft smile playing on his lips as he was trying his best to make her comfortable. They were so in love that it made Ethan sick.

He took a mask for his eyes to avoid having to look at them and to wish he could do the same if Julia was there. He was pathetic. He felt pathetic. If being in love was that he didn’t want to be in love anymore. He groaned and sprawled in his seat.

“Ethan? Dude? Are you good?” asked Kyle.

“Amazing. I want this flight to be over.”

“We haven’t even taken off yet.” pointed out Romy.

“Let me be, Romy. Let me wallow in self pity.”

He didn’t know how but he managed to sleep during the whole flight. He didn’t sleep well, he had to admit, images of Julia playing in his head like it had been happening for the past few days. He was starting to regret what happened in the corridors. Both of them. Because as he expected, it makes everything more complicated. Every time he was watching her he was reminded of the taste of her skin against his lips, the whimpers that left her lips every time he was touching her where she needed him the most, the way she came undone because of him. And it made him as proud as happy. But now he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have her entirely. He wanted more. He wanted to map out in his mind every inch of her skin, to know exactly how to make her feel good, to know what she liked and what she loved, to drive her crazy. To know by heart every sound she would make and to know that it was only for him. He wiggled in his seat, suddenly feeling hot and removed his mask to go to the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water before getting his breathing in check and when he finally left, he found Kyle, leaning on the wall, waiting for him.

“What took you so long?” he asked, a half smile on his face.

“I wasn’t there that long.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, not that long. What do you want?”

“I just want to know how you are. Did something happen with Julia?”

Ethan groaned. He didn’t know where to start and it was giving him a headache to even think about it.

“Things happen and things don’t happen. Both situations are a problem.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Romy is sleeping, I have time.”

“I’m in love with Julia.”

Kyle looked at him without a reaction which threw Ethan off his feet a little bit. He wasn’t expecting congratulations or anything but still, he thought he would at least get a pat in the back.

“I know you are. You’ve been for a while but damn, you took your sweet time to admit it.”

“Fuck you, Dawson.”

“So, what is the problem, then?”

“I don’t like how I’m feeling. I feel vulnerable. I don’t like it. I want to keep controlling what I feel. I hate being in love.” he whined as Ethan threw an arm around him.

“I can’t wait for the double date. Romy will be ecstatic.”

“For that I would need Julia to not act so hot and cold with me.” he complained.

“Did you tell her?”

“No.” admitted Ethan.

“Maybe you should start with that…”

“Are we talking about the same Julia? She overthinks and freaks out over the smallest of things. If I tell her that I love her, she will panic and go straight to fucking Martin. I’m not going to risk it. So I’m going to keep my emotions in check and wait for it all to pass.”

He felt a slap on the back of his head.

“You are so stupid. You are my best mate, I love you but damnit you are so fucking oblivious to things sometimes. She likes you a lot. I don’t want to say that she loves you but the way she looks at you… you can try to fool people but your eyes never lie. And her eyes, mate, they tell you all the truth you need to know.”

Ethan felt his heart fluster and his cheeks burning. No way in hell was he blushing.

“And if only there were just feelings involved…” mumbled Ethan.

“What did you do?”

“Well… we… I..”

“You guys fucked.”

“No! Yes? Not really. We didn’t go all the way. But… Now I can’t stop thinking about it. And it makes everything worse.”

“Of course it makes everything worse. And believe me I know what I’m talking about. Romy and I started as friends with benefits. I know everything about throwing feelings into the mix.”

“Yeah but at least you guys were pretty straight forward with everything. With Julia, it’s one step forward and three steps back. She drives me crazy. Good crazy and bad crazy. Like the stunt she pulled today? Being all jealous and leaving with Martin? Making sure I would know? That’s petty!”

“Ignoring her because you are unable to control how your dick reacts when she is around is pretty stupid too.” commented Kyle.

“You are supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m playing the devil advocate. She plays with the cards you give her. Be mature for once in your life. Go talk to her, tell her how you feel. Because by pushing her away like that you will regret it, my friend.”

Ethan shrugged. It was easier to say than to do. He went back to his seat with Kyle. Romy was now wide awake and was typing on her phone frantically before eyeing Ethan up and down.

“Why is my bestie texting me saying you are an ass?”

“Oh please, not you… I didn’t do anything.” complained Ethan.

“I know about the corridor incident.” said Romy with a sly smile.

“The corridor accident?” repeated Kyle.

“He made our Ju see stars.” explained the blonde.

“You almost fucked her in a corridor? Ethan, you filthy thing.”

“Yeah, he did!”

“Well, tell your bestie that I might be an ass but she is a weather vane. And tell her that I don’t care about what she thinks I’m taking her out tomorrow. We need to talk things through.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a messenger so you tell her that yourself and you will not take her out this week, we have girls night. I miss spending time with her and only her. But please Ethan, she is pissed off and confused, try to spare her feelings, okay? She is fragile. And it’s almost her birthday and I don’t want her to be sad about it. Because of you.”

He forgot about her birthday. And he felt bad and ashamed. It was in a few days, during the Paris Grand Prix. It was his favorite of the season, one he always felt comfortable driving and always had good results. So he was pretty confident in his abilities to get points. But first there was Monaco, a track he liked and knew by heart. And before the race, he had to make up with the stubborn and overthinking girl that was annoying him as much as he loved her. And he had a few ideas on what to do.

When they finally landed, Julia was already there, waiting for Romy. She had spent her whole flight, her head buried in graphs and data, trying to forget about Ethan. She has not been in the greatest mood either, acting a bit too snappy towards people. Martin had left her alone too scared of being the target of her wrath.

So when they finally landed, her dad had left her alone saying that they would meet home anyway, as soon as Romy would arrive. When she finally did, Julia stood up to take her friends in her arms, ignoring Ethan that was standing right beside her.

“We have so many things to catch up on!” said Romy, nudging her as her gaze moved to Ethan.

“Joolsie, can we talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Too bad, because I do.” he took her arms and dragged her away as he heard her complaining.

When they finally were alone, or as alone they could be in a crowded airport, he started talking.

“I’m pissed off.”

“Me too.” she said, using the same tone as him.

“I don’t get why you are jealous. No matter how many times I try to tell you that you don't have any reason to get jealous or to doubt me, you still do. Tell me, what should I do for you to finally trust me?”

“It’s easier to not trust you. Because the day you’ll mess up it will hurt less.” she confessed, looking at the ground.

“But why?”

“Because you are you! You’ve never been serious with anyone. Why would you be with me?”

“Because…”

“Don’t say that I’m different. I’m not. I’m just another idiot that lets you have your ways with me against a freaking door. And that enjoys it and wants to feel that again. And I feel so dirty and I’m ashamed. Because I’ve never thought that I would be that desperate for someone. But here I am. And because, I think that I deserve better. Maybe I don’t deserve an amazing love story but I deserve to have someone that just cares for me and won’t make me feel like I’m anything else but a good fuck. You don’t even want to fuck me! Or to kiss me!” she said the last part way too loud and people started to look at them weirdly.

“That’s not true, Julia. You know it’s not true.” whispered Ethan.

“So prove it!”

She didn’t give him the time to answer as she left him standing in the middle of the airport. She went to Romy, apologizing to Kyle about stealing his girlfriend but she needed her. Romy kissed Kyle quickly, promising him to text him and followed the brunette. Julia yelled for a taxi and soon they were on their way to her parents house. Romy felt quickly that her best friend was in a bad mood and took her hand in her, giving her a light squeeze.

“What is happening to you, Ju’? I’ve never seen you act like that. With any guys.”

“Because I’ve never stayed enough with someone to feel what I’m feeling right now.”

“And what are you feeling?”

“Stupid. Worthless. Anxious.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes, you know. You just don’t want to admit it, Julia. Why?”

“Because! Do you remember what happened with my last boyfriend?”

“You were fourteen…” said Romy.

“Still! No one ever liked me for me, Romy. There was always a hidden motive and Ethan is no different. I’m a public stunt. And I willingly agreed to be one. But then I got to know him, the real him, and I thought that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to let myself fall for him, but… I don’t know how it happened, how I let it happen, but I fell. Hard. And I don’t want to because it will hurt in the end… just like the last time.”

“You’ve never told me what happened. Because it must have been pretty bad for you to avoid romantic connections.”

“I know it shouldn’t affect me anymore. It was almost ten years ago and I feel stupid enough to let it rule and dictate part of my life… but. He made me believe he loved me. He was my first love and you know how we don’t forget those… but oh gosh how I wish I could forget. He played me, made me believe he loved me, just to learn that I was nothing more than a stupid bet. The aftermath was horrible Romy… how everyone knew it but me. How everyone made fun of me. I couldn’t even go to school without being the target of rumors, of insults. Do you know how many pictures of me were circulating on the school group chats? It came to a point I was hiding in the toilets to change before our PE classes. I was naive Julia, stupid Julia. How everyone said I was only interesting because of my dad. He made my teenage years horrible, Romy. And all because I trusted him and loved him.”

“Julia… I know how much you suffered and it makes me so angry. I want to hunt him down and cut his balls. That’s what he deserved. But Ethan would never hurt you…”

“I don’t want to take the risk.”

“You can’t control your feelings. They will come out eventually. You love him, right? Like, you are in love.”

Julia played with her bracelet, avoiding Romy’s glance.

“I love him so much it hurts, Romy. But I hate how I am when I’m with him. And I hate how he is with me. It’s not healthy. I have issues that I need to deal with, I need to work on myself. And I know that one day, this whole PR thing will blow up and it’s going to end me. I deserve better than being considered as something he can discard and pick up when it’s convenient to him but he deserves better than a girl who doesn’t know how to deal with her feelings and will end up hurting him.”

Author's note: She finally admitted it!!! And you don't even know how excited I am to dive deeper into what Julia has been through. It's going to be very emotional so brace yourself. What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Also, little side note: from now on I'll be updating this story on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #max vertsappen

17 notes · View notes

musewritingsforyou · 2 years ago

Text

A Nervous Tic kind of Day

a/n: Hey everyone!!! thanks for all the love on my first post and welcome to an official posting streak. This one is close to my heart and a little more recent than the last one, I hope you enjoy it!

still with Medic!y/n

2.4k fluff, comfort, angst

tw: anxiety, ADHD, medication, crying, one swear

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes you just get nervous. That’s part of having anxiety. Sometimes no matter what’s happening or how happy you are or what’s going right in your life, you just have days where you’re nervous. It sucks, but eventually, you get used to it. You get used to the awkward conversations and the explanations over why you can’t go out today or why your knee is making the table shake. You try to ignore the people that are staring at you in line, reminding yourself that they don’t even know you, even though your brain will tell you that they do. The only thing that makes these days a little easier is when you have someone to go through them with.

One of the first things that made me realize Harry was going to be different from the other men I had dated was the fact that I was so comfortable with him physically so soon in our relationship. For a lot of people, it can take months if not years for me to even be able to give them a short hug without feeling all uncomfortable afterward. But with Harry that was never an issue, it was barely something that crossed my mind when it came to spending time with him. This is also something that made it so much easier for him to be able to comfort me later on in our relationship. Instead of comforting me by words (or attempting to anyway), he is one of the only people in my life that could see my knee bouncing, and stop it simply by placing his hand on my leg.

When I woke up this morning and immediately opened my eyes to a blaring alarm I knew I was in for a long day. By the time I was dressed and downstairs Harry had probably been up for hours, letting me sleep in as long as possible before we had to go to meetings all day. Meeting days have always sucked to be a part of. Not because they are too boring (though they can be very slow) or because I don��t like the people there, but just being in a setting like that with the people that sign my paychecks and allow me to do everything that I do with my best friends in the world, is just a setup for anxiety.

“love you want coffee or no?” Harry asked as soon as he saw me bouncing down the stairs to put my shoes on quickly. I hesitated for a moment, knowing that I really shouldn’t, but the exhaustion deep in my bones was saying otherwise.

“yeah love I would, just some ice and-“

“Ice, almond milk, and a bit of maple syrup, I know love.” He smiled at me while I was throwing on my shoes. I was dressed decently enough that it was perfect for meetings with supervisors and tour managers and all that, but still comfortable enough that sitting in this outfit all day wouldn’t bother me one bit. Harry of course was wearing skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with his vans because he is technically in charge of everything else going on so he doesn’t need to think about whether he is being formal enough. Finally, with shoes on, bags, and coffees in hand, Harry and I left the house in the SUV and headed into London for our first meeting. One good thing about being with someone at the level of fame that Harry has is that usually when we both have to go to meetings and such, not only are they all going to be in the same building for security reasons, but he also usually gets to sit right beside me if he likes, there is no separating us for the meeting on different sides of the table or any shit like that. Every time someone from management has tried to tell him to sit with the boys, or next to a sponsor or something like that he always refuses, “s’not school anymore, no assigned seating far as I can tell” and then sits beside me.

Today we might not even have to move rooms for the different meetings which would be nice I suppose, though sometimes at least a change of scenery can help with my running brain and fidgety limbs. Before I had enough caffeine in my system to be awake, I found myself sitting at the far end of a large mahogany table, spinning black office chairs all around it with only a few empty. Harry was sat on my left, to my right was the very edge of the table and then the head where no one ever seemed to sit. At least that could help with the nervousness a little bit, the only person to sit beside and have to think about would be Harry, I tried to keep that in mind. Harry first, everyone else comes later.

As the chairs started to fill in and my brain fog finally lifted I could start to become conscious enough to know that both of my legs were bouncing under the table and my hands were sitting on my thighs, the skin on the edge of my fingers raw from being picked at. I put my hands on top of the table when I noticed, at least making it more visible for me and others so that I won’t keep doing it. Or at least, that’s the hope. It seemed there was nothing to do about my tapping legs or my racing mind however because the second the meeting had begun every single thought in my brain seemed to speed up and come to the front so all of the sudden I was left staring into space trying to sort them all out.

“and I think that actually, it might be nice to hire another-“ Harry placed his hand on my leg while a woman from across the table spoke. He leaned over into my ear

“s’all right love, we’ll have a break in a minute, yeah?” I nodded meekly but didn’t want to speak aloud in case someone heard. He kept his hand on my leg to relax it and moved the other up to take one of my hands from the table and place it over his thigh, keeping them there together so that my movement was restricted. If anyone else had tried this I would have either gone straight into a panic attack or would have more likely screamed at them for being an imbecile. But not Harry. For some reason, he can do barely anything but place a large tattooed hand on me and that’s all it takes for me to be cured. He’s my miracle worker.

“Alright, we’ll break for some lunch and all meet back here around 1:30, sound good?” There was a mumbling agreement and all but two of the black office chairs spun around as people got up and left to go get lunch or use the bathroom in the short little break they had given us from their incessant talking.

“What's going on, love? Ye’ tappin’ so fast you’d be fit for a marathon.” He laughed a little making his tone more lighthearted but I could still see the concern in his eyes.

“I don't know, just having one of those days.” We spun our chairs a little away from the table once everyone else had left the room, both of his hands were on my legs and he was letting mine fidget with the rings on his tanned hands while we spoke.

“something upset ya?” I kept my vision on his little cross.

“no, I just feel so fidgety today, like I can’t stop moving or something. I’m not even that nervous, I’m just frustrated.” He took one hand away from my leg to place it on my chin and lift my head so that I was forced to look at him.

“but you promise you’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?” I nodded as best as I could with his hand still holding my head. He saw it but still held there for a moment before moving the hand from my chin to cupping my cheek, stroking the skin there with the pad of his thumb before pulling my chair in with one leg and kissing the top of my head.

“Well, let's go get some food in you, and besides, poor Niall looked like he was fidgeting bad too, guess these meeting days are hard for some.” After we managed to thread our way around the halls to a vending machine and a few people standing around it we ran into Niall waiting there for a cup of coffee from the machine. I looked at him and then at the machine back and forth a few times.

“do you honestly think that’s the best idea?” He glanced back at me and nodded.

“Forgot to bring my meds to London.”

“I have some.”

“you have my meds? Why do you have my meds?” I laughed and Harry looked down at me while we were still standing with his arm around my back, side to side.

“Do you forget what my job is?” He grabbed the now full cup of coffee and held it in his hand for a moment, losing at it longingly before handing it to Harry.

“guess you're right, besides if I’m going to have to sit still for another four hours to talk about what color we want as the trim for the next stage I’m going to need some drugs.” Even though we were able to walk around the building it still felt a little like we were caged animals trying to escape every time we left the board room. There were only a few floors in the building that had anything on them but more boardrooms and offices, and we didn’t think leaving would be a good idea if we wanted to keep our heads.

Eventually, we found some snacks and ate them in an empty room together before heading back to the big mahogany table where dreams go to die. This time when we sat back down Harry didn’t even have a moment's pause before hooking my leg with his ankle to pull my chair closer and taking my hands in his on his lap. I looked up at him with a little smile, thankful for all he was doing to help me today.

“Thank you.” I whispered to him as people started to file back into the room to continue our meeting. He looked down and stared at my eyes for a minute before kissing me on the forehead.

“you can thank me after we get to leave this bloody meeting”

-----

Contrary to all of our beliefs there was in fact five more hours of meeting, not three, and I had to give Niall more meds twice just to be able to control the shaking of the table from the two of us bouncing our knees so badly. But eventually, after the sun had set and what was a beautiful day was gone and done with, we all filed into the elevator with Paul and then into our cars and headed home. By the time we had gotten home and eaten some real food, it was already nearing eleven. Haz and I headed up to our bed and did our usual reading for a while before he abruptly grabbed my bookmark and placed it in my book after putting his own down on his bedside table.

“yes?” I asked him as he was staring at me while laying on his side.

“ You need help relaxing.” I raised my eyebrows at him and gestured to the book.

“thanks Bub, but I think the book was helping so-“ as I reached back for the book he shook his head at me and pulled my hand away.

“baby, you were picking at your fingers that entire time.”

“oh”

I sat there for a minute in silence, not quite sure what the next step was going to be. It wasn’t like this would be the first time Harry would be helping me to relax before bed or anything like that, but it never gets easier for me to ask someone for help. Especially not with something that I felt so ashamed of. He took a hand and placed it under my chin before moving my head up slightly to look at him.

“you know that it's okay to ask for my help yeah? That’s what this is, right poppet? You help me when I get scared before stage or when I’m sick. So let me help you with this okay?” While he said it I was looking into his eyes. Even though most of my brain is telling me what he said isn't true, I know that I need to start believing it. So even as a single tear slips out of my eyes I nod anyway and turn over to place my head on his chest. He turned off the lights and shuffled around so that my whole body was encapsulated in his grasp. He started to move one hand in my hair, running it through over and over while the other one did calculated circles on my back. After a few minutes of doing that in silence, he could feel my body start to tense up as I got fidgety from the lack of movement.

“shhh, don’t pay attention to it, okay? Just pay attention to me.” The hand on my back went to doing larger and slower circles with a little more pressure, every single touch taking a second of my attention away from the itching feeling I had to move.

“It'll pass baby, just give it a second.” He spoke softly and almost directly in my ear. Eventually, whether from his iron grip on my body, forcing me to stay still, or the sound of his familiar voice, my eyes started to flutter close.

“Let it happen, love, I’m right here, nothings going to go wrong” he kept speaking and rubbing my back while my eyes closed, the dark only getting marginally more so from my head being pressed into his chest. I know he kept speaking after I closed my eyes but I only heard a few words here and there.

“Sleep, I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be just fine.”

#harry styles #harry styles comfort #harry styles imagines #one direction #onedirectiontour #anxiety #comfort

4 notes · View notes

andnowanowl · 10 months ago

Text

Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

Note: The person being interviewed here is a Zionist. I believe the people who compiled the interviews for "Palestine Speaks" included the interview as a means of showing off the imbalance of power between the oppressor and the oppressed. I initially did not want to post this (it nauseated me reading it), but decided to in order to show how Zionists think and why arguing with them is pointless.

AMIAD COHEN

Executive of the Eli settlement, 32

Born in Kfar Etzion, West Bank

Interviewed in Eli, West Bank

We first meet Amiad Cohen in 2012 while on a United Nations-sponsored tour of freshwater springs in the West Bank. Much of the West Bank outside the valley of the Jordan River is arid, and the struggle for control over water resources is a major flashpoint in the tensions between Palestinians and Israeli settlers. At Ein Al-Arik, which is located halfway between the West Bank cities of Ramallah and Nablus, the springs have been developed into natural bathing pools and a park by the nearby Eli settlement.¹

As part of a group of journalists and NGO workers, we walk among olive trees on a sloping, rocky hillside while our guide tells us of the Palestinian villages cut off from the spring by its recent development by the settlement into a park. Soon an Israeli security truck pulls up, and Amiad and one of his students get out to see what's going on. Before long, Amiad and the head of a local Palestinian village are engaged in heated argument-the Palestinian man claims the lands where the springs reside belong to his family. After things calm down, we approach Amiad and explain our work.

Later we meet Amiad in his office in Eli, a settlement laid out over eight hilltops twenty minutes north of Ramallah. He has brown eyes, a three-day beard, and his hairline appears to be receding towards his yarmulke. His desk is strewn with papers, binders, large rings of keys. "Someone told me a messy desk means a messy mind," he says. "So what does an empty desk mean?" His office is modest, without much more than a computer and some security monitoring equipment. He's not there very often. His real office is his truck, which he drives from neighborhood to neighborhood in the settlement. Amiad takes us on a tour of Eli in his truck, showing us mountain views, soldier memorials, and Bnei David-a pre-army school that Eli is known for. He also invites us to his home, a trailer he shares with his wife and two young children.

The floor of his small living room is strewn with plastic toys, and one wall of the room is packed with books. When we check on Amiad at Eli two years later, he's been promoted from head of security to a position he describes as CEO of Eli. Essentially, he says, he oversees the day-to-day operations of Eli, from the water and sewage systems to the building of new community projects. Still, he says, he only spends an hour a day in his office.

"WE'RE ZIONISTS, WE'RE GOING TO ISRAEL"

I was born on a kibbutz in Kfar Etzion, south of Jerusalem in the West Bank, in 1982.² I have five siblings - two younger brothers and three older sisters. I'm the oldest boy. The kibbutz where I grew up was part of the only Jewish settlement that was demolished in the '48 war. The Jordanians and other Arabs conquered it in '48 and killed almost everyone. Then in 1967, a man who had been a child there and one of the few survivors of the '48 war came back and established a new settlement.³

My mother grew up in a very blue-collar family in Batya near Tel Aviv, and my father grew up in Be'er Sheva.4 All my family is originally from New York City and Long Island. My grandfather, my father's father, fought for the U.S. in World War II. He married my grandmother in 1950 and told her, "We're Zionists, we're going to Israel." First they moved to Batya. But my grandfather wanted to go into the army and build settlements, so that's what he did. I was born in Kfar Etzion, but when I was three and a half, my family moved to South Africa - to Johannesburg. We lived there in the apartheid days, and we had five helpers living in the house. I was a good student, a good kid. But I couldn't go out of the house often because of security problems. We could be kidnapped or killed. So I went to school on a bus with an armed guard, and then I'd head straight home after school. To visit friends in another neighborhood, we had to make an appointment two weeks ahead for an armed escort. It was crazy.

We returned to the settlements in 1989, when I was seven. This time we moved to Efrat. But we had a nice home, a big home with a pool. My father is very intelligent, and he got into the computer business sometime in the early nineties, right around the time the Internet became popular. I learned about computers early. As a thirteen-year-old, I wrote HTML and that was when it had just been invented. I also taught computers to adults. I taught Excel, PowerPoint, and Word when I was a teenager.

I left school a year before graduating from high school, in eleventh grade, because I was bored. I felt like I was wasting my best years and I thought, What am I doing now? I have a problem with not doing anything. I like to be busy. So I dropped out. I volunteered for a year, teaching and working with children. Then I came to Bnei David, the pre-army academy here in Eli, studied here for a year, and then I joined the army.

ELI IS STILL NOT LEGALLY RECOGNIZED BY ISRAEL

The settlement I came to for school, Eli, was established in 1986. Eli comprises eight separate hills. We're on top of a hill in the original part of the settlement that was established by twenty, thirty families. Plans were made to settle the area in the late sixties, after the '67 war, and settlers started coming here in '76, something like that. Originally, the Israeli government planned a city of 100,000 people, and the first residents came from Shilo, just south of here. Building Eli was all part of the dream of many of us settlers to bring as many Jews as possible to this part of the West Bank - a million Jews to the West Bank. In the 1980s, the government of Israel tried to encourage people to move to this region by paying for homes, roads, everything. And then in the mid-nineties the government stopped promoting settlement.¹⁰ So Eli didn't grow as fast as its planners had originally hoped.

Bnei David was established in 1989 by a rabbi who wanted to make a new kind of school that would be a pre-army yeshiva.¹¹ The goal was that students would study the Torah to build themselves into better soldiers, better civilians, better people.

Bnei David was the first school like that. And now it's a revolution in the Zionist community. There are twenty pre-army schools that are religious like the one here in Eli, and there are twenty secular pre-army academies. I teach here at Bnei David, and I teach in Tel Aviv in a secular one. And it started here in Eli. Most of the population of Eli today graduated from this yeshiva, and now we have high-ranking officers in the army who live here. Generals, major generals live here-ten, fifteen generals in a small town of almost 4,000 people, because of Bnei David.

But the problem we have in Eli is that the town is still not legally recognized yet by Israel. Or I should say, Eli was recognized by the state of Israel, but they didn't finish the process. They encouraged the settlement back in the eighties but haven't officially recognized the settlement following the agreements in the mid-nineties. The secretary of defense needs to sign an order to recognize us, but most of the secretaries of defense in the past twenty-five years have been too far left politically to acknowledge settlements like Eli.¹² That's one problem. The second problem - we live in a place that is in between two administrative areas. There are Areas A and B, which are supposed to be governed by the Palestinians, and Area C, which is for Israel and the settlers.¹³ We're exactly in between. That means that land ownership and enforcement of the law in this area are very unsettled. That's an understatement. For the Arabs around here, there's no bookkeeping about who owns what land, and so a lot of Arabs make claims on land as personal property without having any written records. No one knows the facts. We can't prove anything about land ownership, and they can't prove anything, so it's a problem.¹⁴

WHEN IT'S WAR, IT'S WAR. WHEN YOU'RE MORAL, YOU'RE MORAL

After graduating from Bnei David, I joined the army. In 2001, when I started, the mandatory conscription was for three years.¹⁵ I was in the Golani Brigade.¹⁶ And in Golani they have special units, and I wasin a special unit whose expertise is demolition. I worked with explosives - RDX-10, C-4.¹⁷ Our job was to demolish Palestinian bunkers and weapons caches throughout the Gaza Strip, in the West Bank, in Lebanon. Our unit could do crazy stuff with explosives. We could go into a building and blow up only one room without hurting the building, for instance. There were situations where we might find Palestinian explosives in a room and need to detonate them, but we didn't want to destroy the whole building. We'd have to make a hole in the wall and set up our explosives a certain way so the explosion was directed out of the building. It was very difficult. Sometimes it didn't go as planned, and the whole building would crash down. We tried to do our best so that nobody was hurt or killed. The most difficult period of my service was fighting in the Gaza Strip in 2004 through 2005.¹⁸ It was very extreme, very frightening there.

Plenty of friends were injured, plenty of my fellow soldiers. In Gaza we were fighting mostly Hamas. But we couldn't always distinguish who was Hamas and who was not, and my soldiers and I had plenty of talks about how to be moral about war. Questions that you don't hear plenty of people ask. When it's war, it's war. When you're moral, you're moral. The two don't always go together. But we tried to ask the questions, How do you do it? How do you act morally in this situation? If a child gets caught up in our operations, what would we do? And it was dangerous, too. I was shot at by Palestinians when I was a soldier. I was in a civilian car hitchhiking to my base, and two Palestinians ambushed us and shot at our car. I stopped the driver, and I ran after the two gunmen. We ended up capturing them, and they were sent to prison.

When you join with a military force, you divide the world into the good guys and the bad guys. I've been there. That's how you educate soldiers. A soldier needs to know that he's good and the enemy's bad. If he thinks that he's maybe a little bad and the enemy's maybe a little good, then he's not a good soldier. That's the army world. But now I live in the civil world, a much more complicated world.

I'M MARRIED TO MY WIFE AND MY M-16

After the war, I came back to Eli and started teaching at Bnei David. Then I met my wife through a friend in 2007, and I knew right away I wanted to marry her. When my students ask me how you choose your wife, I tell them, "First of all, you need to have chemistry. And then you have to have the same ideas about what you want in life. Then you need to earn her - not win her - you need to change to be better to earn her."

When we met, my wife worked with handicapped adults. And when I saw how she treated them, I knew she was a good person, that she had a big heart. And I wanted a big-hearted wife. I told her, "You'll be my wife, now you just need to decide that I'll be your husband." And it happened. We were engaged half a year after we met and married in eight months. Our first child was born in 2009 and the second in 2011. Around the time my wife was pregnant with our second child I also started working as head of security in Eli.

I drive my truck a lot on the job. I have a knife, a Motorola, and my M-16. I'm married to my wife and my M-16. It goes everywhere I go.

As head of security of Eli, I haven't had to shoot my rifle. And I don't want to. I know when to hide it and when to show it. The people of Eli all own a lot of weapons, mostly pistols. It's common. It's for their own security. Here people don't just feel threatened, they are threatened. But many settlers don't know how to use their guns, which is dangerous.

There are areas where it's much more dangerous, and areas where there's less danger. Now, it's quiet. From 2001 till 2005, shootings in the of the West Bank were common.¹⁹ But in the past three roads in this part years that I've had my job, there have been three shootings in the roads here. Still, we're surrounded by neighboring Palestinian villages, and each one has about 5,000 people. So we're surrounded by 12,000 or 15,000 Palestinians, and there's less than 4,000 of us here in Eli.

When I have security situations, I'm very stressed. But I run and I swim. That's how I calm down. We live a regular life here in Eli, but we always carry something inside-fear. Because every night when I get a telephone call from my subordinates saying the radar system we use sees something weird, I jump. Because I can't stand the sight of a murdered family. I'm afraid that my wife and kids will get hit by stones. It happens every day. And the Molotov cocktails thrown at cars - that happens once a week, every two weeks.

In the summer of 2010, I got a call that there was a fire just east of Eli. So I got my deputy and a couple of other guys, we called the army for security, and we went to put out the fire. Palestinians from the village just east of here, Karyut, they had burned out one of my security cameras on the edge of Eli's jurisdiction.²⁰ I knew it was set on purpose, because it was started with a burning tire. Setting fire to tires and putting them by something else is a good way to burn something down, and something I've seen villagers do it before. The wind was from west to east, the fire spread to an olive grove, and olive trees were burning. I had the phone number of the head of security of Karyut, and I speak a bit of Arabic. So I called him, and I told him there was a fire burning down Palestinian olive trees.

I decided to extinguish the fire in the olive grove myself. I don't like olive trees burning. We believe that the trees have a place in the world, that they're important. So the head of security in Karyut came, and he brought cameramen.

While we extinguished the fire in the olive grove, they photographed us. I came with fire-extinguishing equipment, and he brought photographers. I took pictures of them taking pictures of me. It was crazy. He told me, "I'm taking pictures to show how you're burning down our trees!" I put out the fire anyway, despite the Palestinians' accusations against me, because it was the right thing to do. What I feel isn't anger. It's frustration. Yes, we all know there is a conflict. I'm not trying to hide the conflict. But there is a way to solve the conflict - that's through negotiation. You want to come and negotiate, come. You don't, pay the price.

TO ME, "SETTLER" IS A GOOD WORD

We stay here despite the threat because of ideology. Zionist slash Jewish slash God-different sides of the same thing. They kicked us out of Europe - thank you very much for kicking us out of Europe. We don't care who wants us and who doesn't. We decided, We're here and you don't play around with people like us. We're here, and we're able to fight to stay here. Last night I had a conflict with a Palestinian. And he told me, "Now you're strong, so you can kill us. But when we are strong, we'll kill you." I said, "Yeah, okay, so when you think you're strong enough, call me." That's an answer for people who only understand power.

I feel powerful now. In the larger world, "settler" is not a good word when talking about the West Bank. But to me, the word "settler" is a very good word. I see a settler as a person who is trying to live with the land, to combine people and the land together in a positive way. We're tryingto build, to grow here in Eli. We want to bring as many people as we can here. Plenty of the wives here work only part-time jobs, because the main goal is building a new generation. Now my wife is a social worker, working with kids, broken families, divorced parents, parents in prison. But it's only a part-time job. We want to grow our family.

I don't hate Arabs. I don't want to kill them, I don't want them dead. I'm not against them. The Jewish nation's place is here. I don't want a conflict with you. You can live here. You're invited. Meanwhile, there is a Palestinian state - in Jordan. We need to put everything in place. I don't want Egypt, I don't want Syria, I don't want to conquer Europe. We want our place. Mine. This small border, this is mine. Give me my place. I don't want your place.

I'M VERY OPTIMISTIC ABOUT LIFE

I hope that my kids will be much better than I am. I don't believe that I'm so good, but I pray that my kids will be much better. Because the world is going forward. It's not going backwards. It's getting better and better every day. And I'm very optimistic about the future.

Today, I know how to control myself and my anger. I've worked on it the last few years by studying the Torah. Now I think of how to choose every minute of my life. I have responsibility for my feelings. I choose my feelings, I know how to control them. Because everything you feel, everything you do, you choose.

There is a national conflict, and I believe that is a moral conflict. I need to ask myself in what ways we are we acting immorally towards the Palestinians and try to fix that. And I know what apartheid is in South Africa - I lived there. The basics are very different. The English, French, and Dutch came to South Africa as conquerors, as imperialists, and conquered Africa - that's very different from what's happening here. To say that we are treating Palestinians like the South Africans - it's wrong, it's not happening here.

I don't believe that, as a whole, Arabs in Israel want to push all Jews into the sea. It's much more complicated than that. Whoever holds Islamic ideology definitely wants to kill all the Jews. They say it, loudly. You just have to listen. Read their books, their newspapers. Whoever embraces the Palestinian national identity, they want to kill us in a war. They say it. When they draw the map, they don't draw the '67 borders, they claim all of Israel.²¹ They want everything.

I do not think that everything Israel does is moral. We are not as good as we want to be. My explanation for our problems is that we don't know yet who we are and what our goals are. We have problems with human rights with the Palestinians. And the extreme left wing wants to keep these problems, actually, so they can show we are not moral people, and the Jews are not what they claim to be. So I try to fight that perception.

To build our identity as Jews in Israel, who we are, we have to start by asking questions. And we have to have problems to force us to ask questions. So, thank God we have the Palestinians. Thank God we have that problem, so we can ask ourselves who we are. It's more than useful. It's an integral part of who we are.

What is immoral about settlement buildings? The world expects the Jews to be more moral than others. When I educate, I explain that criticism comes out of a belief. When you criticize something you believe they can change. If you don't care about someone, you don't criticize them. The world is looking up to the Jewish nation and the Jewish community and the Jewish country because they believe there is something different here.

---

Footnotes

¹ Today, Eli is a cooperatively-run settlement of nearly 3,500 people about thirty miles north of Jerusalem.

² Kfar Etzion is a settlement of under 1,000 people located four miles south of Jerusalem. A kibbutz (Israeli collective farming community) was built on the current location in 1927.

³ The kibbutz at Kfar Etzion was completely destroyed after a two-day battle during the Arab-Israeli War in 1948. The destruction of the village by Arab forces (in retaliation for the destruction of an Arab village), is memorialized throughout Israel. After the 1967 Six-Day War, a newly established Kfar Etzion was one of the first planned Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank. The new community was led by Hanan Porat (1943-2011), a prominent settlement activist who, as a child, was one of four survivors of the original Kfar Etzion's destruction.

⁴ Mazkeret Batya is a city of 10,000 located sixteen miles south of Tel Aviv. Be'er Sheva is a city of over 200,000 people located sixty miles southwest of Jerusalem.

⁵ Zionism is the movement to create a Jewish homeland that led to the formation of Israel in 1948.

⁶ During the late eighties, opposition to South Africa's apartheid policies intensified and resulted in widespread violence and a national state of emergency.

⁷ Efrat is a settlement with 10,000 residents that was established in 1983. It is located three miles east of Kfar Etzion.

⁸ Shilo is a settlement a few miles east of Eli. Shilo was established in 1978 and has a population of nearly 2,500. It was one of the first settlements constructed by the Gush Eminum movement, which sought to claim all of Judea and Samaria (the West Bank) for Israel.

⁹ The number of Israeli settlers in the West Bank quadrupled between 1980 and 1983, from 8,000 to approximately 32,000. Expanded construction of settlements in the West Bank and Gaza was promoted by the government of Prime Minister Menachem Begin following the Camp David Accords and the peace agreements with Egypt, Israel's most powerful neighbor.

¹⁰ The first Oslo Accord was signed in 1993 and slowed the growth of settlements in the West Bank for a couple of years after implementation in 1995 (though settlement construction expanded in 1997).

¹¹ A yeshiva is a Jewish religious school dedicated to the study of the Talmud and Torah.

¹² The Israeli government officially recognizes 125 settlements in the West Bank, and over 100 more have been established without formal recognition (and contravening Israeli law), but with support for infrastructure and security.

¹³ From the glossary -

Areas A, B, and C: Administrative areas within the West Bank that were established following the 1993 Oslo Accords. In Area A, the Palestinian Authority maintains full civil and security control. This area makes up only 18 percent of the West Bank but includes dense urban areas the cities of Bethlehem, Hebron (approximately 80 percent of the city), Jenin, Jericho, Nablus, Qalqilya, Ramallah, and Tulkarm. Israeli citizens are forbidden to enter territory designated Area A; however, the Israeli Defense Forces conduct raids and arrests in these territories. In practice, few Israeli citizens have trouble when entering Area A territories. Area B represents 22 percent of West Bank territory and is mapped out around approximately 440 Palestinian villages. Here, the Palestinian Authority maintains civil control while Israel maintains security control. Area B territories are not supposed to have any Israeli settlements, though Israeli citizens are permitted to travel throughout Area B under certain circumstances, such as to visit religious sites. In Area C, Israel maintains full civil and security authority. Area C represents 60 percent of West Bank land area and is the home to as many as 500,000 Israeli settlers. Palestinians are partially restricted from entering Area C. However, approximately 200,000-300,000 Palestinians, including Bedouins and some farmers, live in Area C, though their access to resources such as water and electricity is significantly restricted.

¹⁴ Parts of the land Eli Settlement is built on are categorized as Palestinian private property according to a 2013 survey conducted by the Israeli Civil Administration.

¹⁵ Israeli citizens (with some notable exceptions) are required to serve in the military, usually starting at age eighteen.

¹⁶ The Golani Brigade (also called the 1st Brigade) was responsible for major combat opera- tions throughout the West Bank and Gaza during the Second Intifada.

¹⁷ 17 RDX-10 and C-4 are both explosive compounds used commonly in warfare.

¹⁸ Fighting throughout the Gaza Strip during the Second Intifada lasted until the unilateral withdrawal of Israeli security forces and settlements between August and September of 2005.

¹⁹ This was the period of the Second Intifada.

²⁰ Karyut is a village of less than 5,000 people located a mile east of Eli.

²¹ The '67 borders are the borders demarcated by the Armistice Agreement of 1949, otherwise known as the Green Line.

---

They couldn't have found a more unserious individual if they had tried. He's afraid that his family will have stones thrown at them and is willing to murder anyone with a gun he has access to if they do so, while the Palestinians (who have access to, at most, molotovs) are worried that their kids will be imprisoned or murdered.

He also makes a certain admission: "I have learned to control myself and my anger". Which implies that there was a period in his life, possibly while serving in the IOF, that he did not. And it brings to mind of all the angry young men sent to Vietnam who took their anger out on innocent civilians.

#palestine speaks #zionism #book exerpt #jfc there's so many contradictions and stuff to unpack here #why did he think he was going to be KIDNAPPED in south africa?#“boohoo my genocidal state won't recognize my town as part of it”#“i think the palestinians are savages but i'm so good to them despite it boohoo”#shit i accidentally skipped a chapter so this is the sixth person interviewed #part 6 of 16 then

0 notes

sweetcherrymoon22 · 3 years ago

Text

A Nervous Tic kind of Day

a/n: Hey everyone!!! thanks for all the love on my first post and welcome to an official posting streak. This one is close to my heart and a little more recent than the last one, I hope you enjoy it!

still with Medic!y/n

2.4k fluff, comfort, angst

tw: anxiety, ADHD, medication, crying, one swear

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I woke up this morning and immediately opened my eyes to a blaring alarm I knew I was in for a long day. By the time I was dressed and downstairs Harry had probably been up for hours, letting me sleep in as long as possible before we had to go to meetings all day. Meeting days have always sucked to be a part of. Not because they are too boring (though they can be very slow) or because I don’t like the people there, but just being in a setting like that with the people that sign my paychecks and allow me to do everything that I do with my best friends in the world, is just a setup for anxiety.

“yeah love I would, just some ice and-“

“and I think that actually, it might be nice to hire another-“ Harry placed his hand on my leg while a woman from across the table spoke. He leaned over into my ear

“What's going on, love? Ye’ tappin’ so fast you’d be fit for a marathon.” He laughed a little making his tone more lighthearted but I could still see the concern in his eyes.

“something upset ya?” I kept my vision on his little cross.

“do you honestly think that’s the best idea?” He glanced back at me and nodded.

“Forgot to bring my meds to London.”

“I have some.”

“you have my meds? Why do you have my meds?” I laughed and Harry looked down at me while we were still standing with his arm around my back, side to side.

“Do you forget what my job is?” He grabbed the now full cup of coffee and held it in his hand for a moment, losing at it longingly before handing it to Harry.

“Thank you.” I whispered to him as people started to file back into the room to continue our meeting. He looked down and stared at my eyes for a minute before kissing me on the forehead.

“you can thank me after we get to leave this bloody meeting”

-----

“yes?” I asked him as he was staring at me while laying on his side.

“ You need help relaxing.” I raised my eyebrows at him and gestured to the book.

“thanks Bub, but I think the book was helping so-“ as I reached back for the book he shook his head at me and pulled my hand away.

“baby, you were picking at your fingers that entire time.”

“oh”

“Sleep, I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be just fine.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles one direction #harry styles one shot #one direction #anxitey #anxiety comfort #harry styles fluff

174 notes · View notes

trulygrey · 2 years ago

Text

A Complete Stranger Bought Me A SuperCorpZine & Unknowingly Restored My Hope

This is my long meltdown on how a generous stranger literally made me cry happy tears when I was moping hours ago when it happened...

A bit of a story about myself, I'm a 27yr old psychology undergrad. I had to stop and I never got to continue college cause as the breadwinner in the family, expenses and daily necessities were higher than my own salary. The only option was to take loans just to get by until the next pay day.

So yeah that was a terrible idea. The cycle never ended since.

Hence, wanting something and actually buying it was never an option for me.

It would always be the thought of "What about tomorrow?" or "I can't spend money because I don't know if we'll have sudden expenses."

For someone who has anxiety, expecting the chances of the latter still didn't prepare me anyway.

So when Supergirl ended then the Volume for You Are My Hero was announced, I was so bummed. I never got the chance to participate in this amazing thing the SuperCorp Fandom has been doing for years and I knew I couldn't afford it.

Then BAM! Omnibus~ Literally all the previous volumes plus the latest in one!!!

I never wanted something as much as this!

Yes SuperCorp has ruined me for any other ship and I'm happy ish them.

My brain literally converted the amount to how much kgs of Rice that would be equivalent to, how it would pay an entire electric bill or just how many days worth of food that amount would spare us.

And aside from knowing I can't afford it ever, I don't deserve it! Like how could I even think of prioritizing my wants over my family's needs?

I thought, but what if I save up? I have at least a month or so.

I tried so hard...every single change, every single grocery discount, declined every hangout with close friends...

But yeah the sudden expenses never end...and that's how my hopes in buying Omnibus were shattered.

So Monday June 20, 10 days before the entire pre-order ends...I'm moping on my bed.

Sulking with my swollen eyes as I finally accepted that I'm never going to get Omnibus. I won't have that last memento that I was part of this amazing,talented and generous fandom.

Then a literal surreal moment happened...

Eyes swollen and blurry, I was scrolling thru the SuperCorp Tag when I found a post about sponsoring the Omnibus and to only avail it if you really can't afford it.

I stared at it for soooo long. There were likes but no comments and I was like, Is this for real? Seriously?

I've been in desperate situations before that I lost my original Twitter account because I thought a complete stranger would actually help me...

So I was sceptical and I'm too emotionaly broken over not getting Omnibus for me to be too hopeful and just be shattered once more.

But nooooo. This complete stranger literally gave me life by sending more than enough funds to get Omnibus. As in making sure to send more than enough!

It's so surreal ya guys T_T

I'm finally getting Omnibus!!! and it's all thanks to your generous heart @caliphoria17 I really can't believe it. Shuta!

So yes, @caliphoria17 you really don't understand what you've done 😭😭😭

Yes, I'm looking forward to the day I can pay it forward so I can share this new hope and happiness to another one thank you again!

#supercorp #supercorp zine #you are my hero #supergirl #hindi pa din ako maka move on #Di ko keri ung biglaang thank you post dudugo ilong ko #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x lena #lena x kara #supercorp endgame #kara and lena #lena and kara #yes I did this in the early morning

23 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Victor’s Perfect Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 完美之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

More from this collection: Gavin l Kiro

[ Released in CN on 24 Dec 2020 ]

MC: Ha--ahh--

During the fourth hour of the meeting, I finally can’t help myself and release a long yawn.

Before my mouth can shut in time, I meet the eyes of Victor, who is sitting in the middle of the long table.

Victor: ...

Victor: That’s all for today’s meeting.

Everyone in the meeting room releases sighs of relief, leaving the room in groups.

When we’re the only two people left in the meeting room, Victor lifts his head and sends me a straight look. Understanding it, I hurriedly head over to receive a lesson.

Victor: Were you working overnight on a program again?

MC: I promised to give it to you today. So of course I had to spend the night finishing it!

Victor: I remember saying that it wouldn’t be late even if you gave it to me tomorrow.

But it’s Christmas tomorrow... I say this inwardly while pretending to look humble, nodding my head repeatedly.

Victor: Don’t do what you can’t accomplish.

MC: Yes yes yes, CEO’s criticisms are correct. Now, could I give you my report on...

Just as I’m prepared to verify the itinerary for tomorrow, an employee returns and interrupts.

Employee: CEO Victor, there’s a small issue regarding the program you mentioned during the meeting earlier...

Victor signals with his gaze that I should wait at the side for a while. I keep the schedule that I had taken a long time to prepare.

With nothing to do, I stare out the window. The setting sun is hanging low along the horizon, and the streetlights lining the roads have started lighting up in succession.

Mainly red and green coloured lights entwine around the trees flanking the roads, and lights in the shape of stars and snowflakes embellish the open land around the city.

MC: It’s Christmas tomorrow...

Ever since we spent a rather hurried Christmas the previous time due to work, I’ve been looking forward to the arrival of the subsequent Christmas.

Despite knowing that Victor doesn’t care about such festivals, I hope we can leave a perfect and ordinary Christmas in our memories.

Which is why since a week ago, I’ve “bribed” Goldman, troubling him to help keep Victor’s time on Christmas free.

Victor: Why are you in a daze?

Returning to my senses, I realise that Victor has already finished his discussion, and has his arms folded over his chest while looking at me.

I once again open the schedule book Goldman left me, pointing at the line which reads “Spend Christmas together with MC”.

MC: Cough cough. CEO Victor, Goldman has requested that I remind you about tomorrow’s schedule.

He sweeps a glance at the notebook, his expression blank as he turns to grab his coat off the back of the chair. After taking a few steps towards the door of the meeting room, he turns his head towards me with a frown.

Victor: Do you have plans tonight?

I shake my head in confusion, not comprehending why he’d ask such a question.

Victor: So why are you still in a silly daze? Don’t Christmas celebrations start from Christmas Eve?

By the time we leave the shopping mall carrying heavy Christmas supplies, the open square next to it is already filled with crowds here to visit the Christmas market.

Our car ambles past the restless streets. I can’t help but roll down the window and take a deep breath. It’s as though the romantic ambience of Christmas is being swept along with the cold air.

Victor: Opening the window while smiling in a silly manner. Don’t weep and wail when you breathe in a stomach full of cold air.

The window of the car rolls up slowly. I pull a long face at the reflection of Victor in the glass.

Broadcast Host: ...it’s another year of Christmas. I trust that every citizen of Loveland City is looking forward to the arrival of this beautiful festival.

Broadcast Host: This Christmas, the Loveland Financial Group will be giving citizens of Loveland City a big Christmas gift at 12am!

Broadcast Host: ...if you have any Christmas wishes, you could participate in our program by typing “LFG’s Perfect Night” in our social media account.

The voice of the broadcast host seems especially excited within the enclosed vehicle.

This is a special Christmas broadcast by the Loveland City Government, sponsored by LFG.

When I received this news a week ago, I tried extricating information furtively from Victor, but his��response of “no comment” left me without room for argument.

MC: Victor, you really can’t disclose a little bit on what LFG’s big Christmas gift is?

Victor: LFG is just the sponsor. I’m not privy to the contents of the program.

Victor lowers his head as he flips through a report, looking uninterested in my question.

MC: ...how is it possible that you didn’t check the quality of the program? You even correct the punctuation marks in my proposals.

He doesn’t express an opinion, arching his brows. Refusing to give up, I squeeze my face on top of the report, trying to fill his entire field of vision.

MC: In that case, what does a perfect Christmas look like to you?

Victor: Do you think that I’m idle enough to think about this question while tossing and turning at night?

Sensing the hidden meaning in his words, my ears flush. With an awkward and polite smile, I return to sit at my side.

Through the reflection in the window, I see that he has once again lifted up the report, and I can’t help but mutter softly.

MC: When someone asks you about your perfect Christmas, you should reciprocate and return the question...

Victor: Fireplace, Christmas feast, snow. A certain person has already posted her perfect Christmas on Moments twice.

MC: ...and you don’t know how to leave a ‘like’ even after seeing it.

Although my mouth is grumbling, the corners of my lips curl upwards involuntarily. I turn my gaze to the gloomy sky outside the window.

MC: It’s a shame that the weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow today...

Victor: Is snow that important?

MC: Of course! Just as how fried chicken is paired with beer, and how hamburgers are paired with Cola, Christmas must be paired with snow for it to be perfect.

Victor: At first glance, that does sound a little logical.

MC: It’s still very persuasive even if you give it a careful analysis! Also, everyone on Moments has been feeling regretful that there won’t be snow this Christmas...

Victor seems to be contemplative as he turns to look at the boundless night sky, the corners of his lips turning upwards with a small arc.

Pushing open the door to Victor’s house, a bundle of heat waves rushes towards me.

With a sudden thought, I rush into the living room. Just as expected, the fireplace, which is normally “on strike”, is currently lit with a few tiny flames.

As though I've been set alight by these flames, my heart also becomes warm.

As compared to doing something trivial such as leaving a “like” on Moments, he always fulfils my wishes in a more direct manner.

Pudding: Meow--

A ticklish sensation is at my calf. Lowering my head, I see that Pudding is rubbing the bottom of my trouser leg affectionately.

MC: Pudding, I’m wishing you a Merry Christmas too!

I carry it up, scratching it on the chin. All of a sudden, I start worrying.

MC: What if Pudding gets too close to the fireplace and gets hurt?

Victor walks past me, both hands full with ingredients.

Victor: Do you think Pudding is as stupid as you are?

Pudding: Meow meow meow!

Pudding seems to be responding in protest, struggling for a while before leaping out of my arms.

MC: ...let me help too!

I roll up my sleeves, planning to give Victor a hand.

Victor: If you want to eat soon, it’s better if you don’t cause trouble.

My whole-hearted enthusiasm is doused by his cold water. I stand numbly in place.

Victor: If you really want to help, you could decorate the place with the trinkets you bought.

MC: Okay!

Folding my hands across my chest in satisfaction, I admire my work--

The small bells and coloured lights on the Christmas tree complement each other perfectly. The French windows in the living room are decorated with mistletoe wreaths - simple yet in good taste.

Snowman-shaped Christmas candles are on the dining table and coffee table, and a charmingly adorable Santa Claus doll leans against the arm of the sofa.

Most importantly, the Christmas present I’m giving to Victor is hidden in a certain corner of the living room.

MC: Pudding, what do you think?

Pudding circles and rubs against the legs of my trousers, letting out rumbling sounds. I remove a bow from a branch of the Christmas tree, tying it gently onto its neck.

MC: This is a Christmas present for you.

Just as I plan to call Victor over to check the fruits of my labour, a rich fragrance of cake drifts from the kitchen.

Without prior agreement, Pudding and I follow the fragrance and head towards the kitchen. Craning my head at the doorway to take a look inside, I find Victor half-squatting in front of the oven, looking very focused.

He’s resting a hand casually on the marble kitchen counter, his slender fingers tapping on the surface rhythmically.

Ding-- Just like a magical sound, an even stronger fragrance assails the nostrils the moment the oven stops operating.

And this baking magician methodically “creates” a pair of brightly-coloured red mittens - the pair that I had pestered him to include in the shopping bag.

Despite how distasteful he felt towards the mittens in the mall, Victor still wears them as he pulls the baking tray out, carefully checking the colour and lustre of the cake.

MC: Pfft--

I can’t help but laugh aloud, and Victor immediately turns towards the sound.

Although he's been working in the kitchen for an hour, there isn’t a single oil stain on him. Not a single crease can be found on his shirt either.

Even the stray hairs on his forehead remain as tidy as ever, falling naturally in front of his eyes.

It’s just that pairing the stern, cold appearance of Victor together with this pair of overly jubilant mittens seems a little out of place.

Pudding has long since given up resisting. It walks forward, pacing frantically in the vicinity of the oven.

Victor: Wipe the corners of your lips. Your drool is about to flow to the ground.

I subconsciously rub my mouth with my sleeve, but find that my the corners of my lips are dry.

MC: Liar... there’s no drool.

Amused, he taps Pudding’s head with the mitten.

Victor: I was referring to this greedy cat. Who asked you to take it as a personal attack?

Before I can salvage my pride, Pudding starts meowing, trying to tell Victor about my “crime”--

It shakes its neck. With a tactical retreat, it struggles free from the bow I gave it.

MC: I put it on so it could celebrate Christmas too. But the bow’s probably too heavy, so it doesn’t like it...

Victor stands up, then cuts a thin ribbon from the bag of ingredients on the counter. He bends down and ties it onto Pudding.

MC: That’s right, why didn’t I think of using...

Before I can finish my words, I watch as Victor picks up the bow that Pudding rejected, stretching out his arms and encircling me gently.

His upper body leans slightly on my side, and I feel his steady breaths on the crook of my neck.

MC: ...Victor?

Victor: Don’t move.

My body tenses up, and I don’t move an inch. The fragrance of cake from his arms encases me, and my heart rate involuntarily quickens.

A faint rustling sound drifts from behind me, followed by a weight on my ponytail.

Victor: Done.

I reach out to touch the ponytail on my head, discovering an additional bow on it.

Victor: This way, both greedy cats have bows.

...Victor actually does such childish things too. Could this be what they call “loving the house and its crow”?

[Note] MC is making reference to an idioms, 爱屋及乌 (“ai wu ji wu”), which conveys how if you love a person, the love extends to even the crows on their roof. It means you love everything about something or somebody.

Of course, I lack the boldness to make such a thick-skinned comment. I simply keep touching the bow on my ponytail happily.

MC: Pretty?

Victor: Pretty. Just that you smile like a dummy. If you continue smiling like a fool, your Christmas feast will get cold.

[Note] I’M SCREAMING. MC is clearly asking about the ribbon, but her question is written in such a way that it’s ambiguous as to what she’s referring to. SO VICTOR SAYS SHE’S THE PRETTY ONE UIHRGEJKDV

The facts reveal that Victor underestimated my ability to eat.

Without giving the feast a chance to grow cold, I tuck into the meal while it’s still piping and fragrant. On the other hand, Victor doesn’t eat much.

MC: So full...

I look into the distance while holding my belly, leaning against the chair and sighing with emotion.

Victor: Why are you eating so quickly? No one’s snatching it from you.

MC: I couldn’t control myself since it was too fragrant...

Victor: In that case, what do you plan to do with this cake?

He points at the perfectly flawless cake at the far corner of the table. The tone he uses to ask this question is reminiscent of a CEO who is pressuring his employee to work overtime.

MC: I was too focused on eating the feast earlier and forgot there was still cake... But since girls have an extra tummy for dessert, I can do it!

While saying this, I’m reach for the cake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victor furrowing his brows.

Victor: Don’t force yourself if you’re full. The cake can be eaten later.

I retract my hands in embarrassment, then puff out my chest and clear my throat.

MC: Victor, in order to thank you for fulfilling my perfect Christmas, I’ve hidden a present for you in the living room. Search for it!

Victor’s gaze falls on the colourful decorations in the living room.

Victor: The present you’re referring to - is it how you didn’t make a mess out of the living room?

MC: ...of course not! Also, I put in a lot of effort while decorating, so of course I wouldn't make a mess out of the living room!

Seeing my flustered and exasperated state, Victor chuckles softly.

He stands up, walks to the Christmas tree, bending down to pick up a conspicuous box.

Victor: In that case, it’d be this box.

MC: ?!

MC: When did it get there? I distinctly remember hiding it.

Victor: When you were gorging yourself with food, Pudding carried it in its mouth and walked around in the living room for a long time.

MC: ...Pudding!!

Pudding: Meow--

The chief culprit licks its paw elegantly on the sofa, without feeling apologetic at all.

Victor sits down on the floor next to the Christmas tree, unwrapping the packaging of the box in an unhurried manner. I shift over to his side, filled with anticipation as I observe his expression--

Victor: ...

Victor: Are your designs too novel, or are your skills so poor that they have reached this level?

I lower my head to take a look. The painstakingly arranged handmade biscuits have gotten mixed with the shredded paper meant to be used as a cushion. Even I can’t tell how they looked like originally.

It’s all Pudding’s fault!

MC: H-hold on!

I snatch the box in a fluster, performing a “surgery” to separate the biscuits from the shredded paper. Victor purses his lips, revealing a faint smile.

MC: Done!

I once again present the box of handmade biscuits to him--

A Victor dressed in a Santa Claus outfit, a gingerbread-shaped me, and a few ordinarily-shaped biscuits meant as embellishments.

MC: How are they? I made them myself.

He reaches out to take the gingerbread biscuit, then holds it in front of my face.

Victor: Silly-looking - very similar to you.

Even though his assessment isn’t that nice to hear, the tender gleam in his eyes disclose his good mood.

MC: ...on account of the Christmas feast, I won’t bicker about this with you.

I hold up an ordinarily-shaped biscuit.

MC: Want to give it a try?

Before Victor can express an opinion, Pudding scurries out, grabbing the biscuit in my hand with its mouth.

MC: Pudding!

Just as I try it to release the biscuit from its mouth, Pudding nimbly leaps onto Victor’s shoulder.

As though knowing that it has found a strong and powerful backing, it turns around unhurriedly, looking at me provocatively.

MC: Pudding, spit it out quickly. Cats can’t eat milk biscuits!

Victor observes the farce before him in slight interest, seemingly unperturbed by Pudding’s claws creasing his clothes, keeping himself out of the matter.

Pudding goes one step further to flaunt, affectionately rubbing the side of Victor’s face, seeking his protection.

Pudding: Meow--

Victor: I don’t participate in cat fights.

Seeming to realise the reality that "God helps those who help themselves”, it turns around, leaping towards the sofa. I hastily chase after it.

The heavy curtains of a majestic human-cat chasing war are pulled open.

Pudding excitedly hops atop the sofa repeatedly for a while before turning to the dining table.

After numerous failed attempts of chasing it around, I change my tactics. Pretending to pass by Pudding unhurriedly, I suddenly pounce--

Pudding didn’t expect that I’d have such a card up my sleeve. It instinctively leaps into the air, finally planting itself squarely into the cake.

MC: ...

Victor: ...

I stand frozen in place, sensing two searing eyes at my back that seem to dig two holes into the back of my head.

MC: Erm... Victor... didn’t you keep the cake away...

After a period of silence from behind me, I’m at a loss on whether I should turn around to see Victor’s expression. All of a sudden, something flicks the back of my head.

Victor: Time for a bath, King of Causing Trouble.

He picks Pudding up with a hand, then walks to the bathroom with heavy steps.

...as expected, this Christmas can’t be spent perfectly just like before.

Although that's what I originally think, seeing Pudding lying in the wash basin with its eyes wide and with a piteous appearance makes me happy once again.

MC: Hahaha, Little Kitten, you have your day too~

Beside me, Victor’s movements are adept as he rubs the fur of the cat. Meanwhile, I playfully stack foam bubbles atop Pudding’s head.

MC: Look! A poop hairstyle!

Pudding obviously feels indignant, meowing complaints at Victor. Victor gives it comforting rubs on the belly.

Victor: Don’t fuss over things with a dummy.

I purse my lips in dissatisfaction. As though I‘ve lost all reason, I lift up a heap of foam bubbles and rub it onto Victor’s cheek.

MC: Santa Claus!

Victor pauses in his actions, lowering his head and arching his eyebrows while looking at me.

Victor: Do you find this very interesting?

Reason returns to me, and I’m just about to reach out to wipe the foam bubbles away when he suddenly leans his face over, rubbing the foam bubbles onto my face.

Victor: Mrs Claus.

An hour later, Victor and I finally put an end to this chaotic cat washing battle.

We are all taking a short break on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The wood in the fireplace crackles from time to time, and the warm yellow light from the fire casts our faces in occasional brightness and darkness.

The sweet and refreshing scent of Pudding after its bath diffuses in the surroundings. The song “All you need is love” is playing from the broadcast, resonating in the living room.

Feeling drowsy, I’m using Victor’s lap as a pillow. Occasionally, he uses a hand to comb through my hair.

MC: Victor...

MC: Which movie is this song featured in? It sounds so familiar...

Victor: “Love Actually”. I remember someone mentioning liking that show. Looks like it was just a superficial fondness?

I turn, hugging Victor’s arm tightly before drifting entirely to sleep.

How nice, Victor still remembers that I like this movie.

MC: If it were to snow this Christmas, it’d truly be perfect...

I mutter to myself, descending completely into dreamland.

Not knowing how long I've slept, I suddenly feel a weight on my face. Opening my eyes, I realise that half of Pudding’s body is sitting on my face.

With a dark expression, I carry it away. When I sit up, I discover that a blanket has been draped over me, but Victor isn’t by my side.

The sliding door to the balcony, which was originally shut tight, is now pulled open halfway, and the curtains are drifting slightly.

Stepping closer to it, I find Victor standing at the outdoor balcony, lifting his head and thinking about something.

MC: Are you waiting for Santa Claus?

He turns around at the sound of the voice. Seeing the thin knitted shirt I'm wearing, he frowns.

Victor: Why did you come out without wearing a jacket?

I squeeze myself into his woollen coat, lifting my head and giving him a grin.

MC: I won’t be cold like this!

Victor: The turtledove occupies the magpie’s nest.

[Note] Victor’s use of the idiom, 鸠占鹊巢 (“jiu zhan que chao”), conveys the idea of seizing the territory of someone else.

Despite what he says, he tightens his grip around me slightly.

MC: Why did you come to the balcony? Aren’t you cold?

Victor: A dummy kept talking in her sleep, so I came out to get some peace and quiet.

MC: ...what did I say in my dream?

Victor: Wanting to have a snowball fight at one point, then wanting to build a snowman at another. Not even a moment of idleness the entire night.

I suddenly recall that I did have a dream, and there seemed to be something snow-related in it.

MC: What one thinks about in the daytime will be dreamt about at night... but...

I stick my face close to his chest, hearing the steady and powerful heartbeats drifting from it.

MC: Even if there isn’t snow this Christmas, I’m already very very contented. After all, I had a Christmas feast, baked next to a warm oven, and even saw Santa Claus!

I lift my head, deliberately giving him a teasing glance. He chuckles lightly.

Victor: And Mrs Claus.

That scene from the bathroom earlier is vivid in my mind. Embarrassed, I bury my face in his chest.

MC: Most importantly, I’m spending this Christmas with you. In my heart, this is the perfect Christmas.

My head remains buried in his chest, anticipating VIctor’s response. However, I suddenly feel something cold dripping on the roof of my head.

MC: ?!

I lift my head violently.

MC: Victor, are you crying...

It’s snowing.

The moment I lift my head, I see the entire sky filled with drifting snowflakes.

It’s actually snowing!

The sparkling, jade-like crystals rustle and land on Victor’s eyelashes, and very quickly turn into transparent water droplets.

I reach out to rub at his eyes gently, a moist and cold sensation on my fingertips.

MC: Victor! It’s snowing!

I happily unfurl my hands to welcome the snowflakes, showing them to Victor excitedly. However, I realise that his expression, which wears a slight smile as he looks at me, is not at all astonished by this unexpected snow.

Victor: Mm, it’s snowing.

An answer faintly surfaces in my heart. Before I can open to my mouth to probe further, the host’s voice from the broadcast drifts vaguely from the living room.

Broadcast Host: LFG... big Christmas gift... artificial snowfall...

Just as expected!

It turns out that this snowfall was LFG’s Christmas surprise to the citizens of Loveland City. No wonder Victor looked like he was waiting for something on the balcony earlier...

I deliberately fold my arms across my chest, tilting my chin angrily.

MC: A certain CEO even pretended not to know anything about it...

Victor: I thought surprises meant that they wouldn’t be disclosed until the last second. Or does a certain dummy have an issue with this surprise?

Seeing him arching his brows, I immediately correct my posture obediently.

MC: No, no! On behalf of the citizens of Loveland City, I sincerely thank CEO Victor for the surprise!

He laughs in spite of himself, lowering his head and meeting my forehead.

Victor: Now, you can say that this is a perfect Christmas.

I hide in his arms as I look up at the sky. The snowfall is getting increasingly heavier.

Even though I'm just wearing a thin woollen shirt, I don’t feel cold at all in his arms.

It’s probably because the person before me has shielded me from all the piercing wind and snow, keeping them out of my world.

MC: Come to think of it, do you really not have a perfect Christmas in your heart?

He once again tightens his grip on me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

Victor is silent for a very, very long time. It’s so long that I can hear the rustling sound of snowfall.

Victor: This moment right now. It’s perfect.

Phone calls: here

Texts: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #mlqc best boy pudding #pUDDING I LOVE YOU #VICTOR'S A+ COMMENTS #AHUIEFDJNKS #A+ DATE

277 notes · View notes

noa-nightingale · 3 years ago

Text

Gay Oar!!! ✨💖 - second post

After I wrote my nerdy little text about the appearance of Oar Oar in the Mansa Musa PH ep (you can find that post here), I naturally also had to write one about Sword Oar appearing in the Smallpox ep.

I honestly should have expected him to show up sooner or later after his boyfriend already did but it still caught me off guard. ✨

I’ll use my beautiful “autisticwatcher” tag for this (and if you also have to say things about Watcher-related autism stuff or autism-related Watcher stuff, feel free to use it too). Here is an attempt to justify it even though this topic probably is not inherently autistic: a) I experience every part of life through an autistic lense and b) the ways I express joy are... let’s say, atypical.

Here’s what I mean by that (and don’t worry, this is going somewhere): I am not a very outwardly expressive person. My face is kind of neutral most of the time (you could call it resting bitch bastard face), I have a voice that is often monotonous, and I don’t like showing strong emotions.

And this is what I did when Sword Oar showed up: I sort of jerked back in my chair and clapped my hands once. Then continued watching the episode with the biggest autistic grin (i.e. with what probably looked like a mild smile from the outside). ✨

Let’s get into it! Once again, it brought me great happiness to write this, and - be warned - some of this stuff is pretty specific. And once again, I did not expect that I would spend my time writing about a sponsorship part. ^-^

Enjoy! 💖

“Okay, moving along! Oh-” - “Oar are we!” Never stop with the oar puns, please. I live for the oar puns.

I think I already talked about Oar Oar’s voice and how much I like it but Sowrd Oar’s voice is equally amazing (sometimes a bit hard to understand but I can live with that - I love that voice). I also enjoyed his soft little laugh in the beginning. It was sweet.

We get a little more info on the Professor who apparently smells like “rotten cotton candy mixed with expired vinegar” (also, the sound effect after that killed me lol). Oof. Didn’t have to expose him like that lmao. I like that Sword Oar says to the Professor “I like you but you are a smelly guy” - confirming that he indeed likes him (I have one or two headcanons about this but I am... not going to mention them here, for reasons I will write about below).

The sponsor for this episode is Scentbird, and Sword Oar starts talking about “smelling seasonally appropriate” which I like - we are transitioning into autumn, the leaves will change soon, it is almost Over the Garden Wall rewatch time (I usually start my annual rewatch in October), and I just like the autumn vibes, the thoughts of pumpkins and colorful leaves and little ghosts. It’s my favorite time of the year. 🍂

Here’s a quote from the episode: “put that light sexy summer fragrances on the shelf in exchange for a thick seductive scent for the colder months”.

Okay okay OKAY you... you can’t do this to me!! >:( I have Thoughts about this, okay? Again, I am not giving you any details here (see below) but I have one or two new ideas about Sword Oar’s and Oar Oar’s relationship, and all this talk about “sexy” and “seductive” is not helping.

Like... not to get too depressed in a post about anthropomorphic oars and a sponsorship but there was a time when it was not even legal to be gay (and that time was not that long ago) and there was a time when I did not see any happy queer representation in any media. (I had Brokeback Mountain and that movie is sad as all hell; it breaks my heart every time I watch it, it is incredibly tragic, and that was pretty much the only thing I saw happening to queer people in fiction when I was growing up - struggle, suffering and death. It does something to a queer teenager, is what I am saying. And you carry that pain into adulthood, even if things do get better.)

And then look at these oars - openly gay, openly in love and openly sexual with each other. Yes I am getting emotional about a goofy little quote in a friggin’ sponsorship part, goddamnit!! Even considering all the things that are better now, queer people still get hurt and harassed and harmed and sometimes killed for being queer, and queer sexuality is still stigmatized, and it means a lot to me to have these puppets who are just so unapologetically gay and talk openly about it.

Maybe all of this is an overreaction to a tiny little quote. But it makes me happy (and sad), and I want to talk about it. ❤️

Moving on! To more queer stuff (it is more lighthearted this time, don’t worry)! :D

He mentions not having arms or legs, and that’s the bane of my existence tbh. You probably know by now that I draw a lot of gay oars art, and I have complained before about the fact that these guys don’t have hands. Do you know how many gentle things I could draw if they had hands? You can’t lovingly hold someone’s face without hands, you can’t intertwine your fingers with them, you can’t hug them without arms. So. Yeah. The audacity! /lh

(Come to think of it, Maizey and Gebra don’t have hands either. Shane Madej, sir, I am begging you, please give your LGBTQ+ characters hands!)

Here is another quote: “Let me give you a rundown of some of the sweet sweet sniffs I’ve been dancing with thanks to Scentbird.” Ugh it sounds so charming. It’s just such a charming way to put it. 🌻

He then lists some fragrances and I especially want to mention Confessions of a Rebell - Morning After, and the quote “hot nights never smelled so good”.

I AM ASKING YOU AGAIN

WHY

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

And again, I won’t go into all the new headcanons and ideas and thoughts I have about these oars and here is the reason - I don’t know how many minors are following me. Like, I don’t want to make this stuff sound too lewd or crass because I think that queer sexuality is already too often seen as something “dirty” instead of something perfectly okay and natural. Still, I will keep some of my thoughts to myself. Let’s just say, I am very fond of... all of this. 😊

Annnnyyyyways, Sword Oar lists a whole lot of other stuff, and I know that he has to talk about the sponsor, but what I am getting from this is, the guy really likes his scents.

He mentions amber+leather, he mentions lavender, and he mentions Gendarme - Sky which is a “complex and sultry blend of bergamot, cardamom and aged leather”, and I now have a few more ideas about what Oar Oar smells like. (Personally, I like “masculine” scents. Wood, leather and the like.)

Watcher has a code again (you can get 30% off). ✨

The last thing I want to mention is this: “you delicious thing, you”. I am not entirely sure if he is talking to the Professor or the audience but I am okay with both. Because a) I already have a headcanon about the oars and the Professor (which I will not talk about here because, again, there are probably some minors following me) and b) ... oh to be called a “delicious thing” by an anthropomorphic gay oar. 😘

That’s it for now. I spent the better part of three hours with this and hey, if you want to do me a favor, be kind to a queer person today (and if you are any flavor of LGBTQ+, please be kind to yourself - you are wonderful). 💖

I did not mean for this whole text to be this emotional and sometimes sad but I don’t mind it either.

Thanks for reading! ✨💕

❤️ 💛 💚 💙 💜

Also, here is some of my older art. Seemed appropriate. ^-^

#watcher #puppet history #gay oars #autisticwatcher #the professor #shane madej

23 notes · View notes

jicklet · 3 years ago

Text

Ted Lasso 2.03 Thoughts

I watched it once last night, these are my idle thoughts after that first impression.

First off: I can see why they meant for this to be the end of a 3-parter!

WE FINALLY MEET NORA. ♥ Of course this is the child someone like Sassy would raise. And of course she's still horribly embarrassed by her mother, despite how cool everyone else thinks Sassy is.

Fascinated by the duality of Sassy, we see her in her off hours, but professionally she's off giving brilliant child psychologist talks at conferences.

(What must it be like to grow up with a child psychologist as a mother? Pros and cons, I imagine.)

QUESTIONS: Rebecca knows Ted and Sassy slept together, everyone present seems to know that she knows. How did this go down.

My favorite scenario: After Rebecca apologized to Ted for hiring him to fail, the next morning over biscuits he blurts it out, not wanting to hide anything from her after she was honest with him. And she cuts him off with "Ted, I already know, Sassy texted me pretty much immediately the morning after." "Oh! Cool. Coolcool." "Yeah she said she had a very nice breakfast." "Oh good!" [super awkward pause] [Ted jumps out of his chair like it's on fire] "ANYWAYS" "YEP GOOD TALK"

(Yes I like this both for Keeley/Roy parallels and because it sounds hilarious)

REBECCA AND ROY, YESSS. They just have such a a great similar vibe, glad we're getting more of them. Nice mutual respect there. Liked the distinction that No, she didn't break up with John just because Roy said she should, but because what he pointed out was right.

We spend so much time with them just being people that I forget that all our characters are technically celebrities, so Nora coming in was really fun in that respect. Her just 0__0 over Sam. Girl same.

Jamie coming in to talk to Keeley because she's the only one (besides Ted, who he's putting on a brave face for) who's ever listened to him...... and her just, dragging him silently across the entire club and depositing him on Dr. Sharon. 😂 Yeahhh Keeley set up boundaries! Similar to her pointing him towards Ted last ep.

She does care about him but she is Not going to be his personal therapist, especially when there is a perfectly fantastic one in the house. If they're going to be friends, be friends, but don't just seek her out when you want something. If anyone is still afraid they'd put these two back together, I'm pretty damn sure they're not. Jamie currently doesn't have anything to offer her.

Keeley has her own office now!! (even though she crashes Rebecca's sometimes.) Shoutout to the giant Roy decal on the wall across from her desk. Love it.

Brief but beautiful check in with Roy confirming he's continued with the pundit job. "Tell us how you really feel, Roy!" "Okay, you're a shit manager." "Not about me!" hahahahahaaaa suck it.

And Sam............ God, this was SUCH a knockout episode for Sam. You know what I appreciate? How they let him be annoyed at Jamie. Sam got a little petty on the pitch! That's not a side of him we've seen before. He's not just sweet Sam who doesn't push back, he's tired of that dude's shit.

Especially with the rest of the team having his back.

They've all bonded! Oof, the contrast between everyone lovingly razzing him over his photoshoot, and Jamie jumping in like Oh I know this game! But he doesn't. You haven't earned the right to play yet.

Oh man when Sam got so excited to share with his parents that he did something great for them... Only for him to run into his dad's disappointment instead! ouch. That hurt.

The insidiousness of how DubaiAir SPECIFICALLY REQUESTED SAM... They knew what they were doing. And when Sam brought up that he wanted to drop out.... I think Keeley and Rebecca were realizing that, they look so horrified. Both of them had just been so excited Sam was getting recognition...

Anyways. Sam with the press, how amazing was he? Immediately taking charge of the narrative. I hope how nice he's been to the press in the past (like at the gala) helps him out here.

And of course Jamie: It had to be something this big to actually get Sam on the road to being cool with him. Not only did he step up to take on the risk alongside Sam, it was him finally saying "I'm not better than you, we're on the same team."

Speaking of what they know they're risking... Rebecca and the rest were just talking about the finances of the club have dropped after relegation, and now they've essentially told their main sponsor to take a hike. I don't want to lose any of our boys, but we'll see what happens with that.

oh man i completely forgot about Led Tasso. I'm sorry I know a lot of you loved it but I was peeking out from behind my blanket with something in the neighborhood of stress and secondhand embarrassment. Just not my cup of tea! The dark glasses were a very nice touch though, as a change from Ted's regular orange ones.

Next week... IT CRISMAS. YESSSS

Look I just rewatched You've Got Mail...... The setup for Ted and Rebecca to unknowingly meet on that dating app is so perfect, please. I wonder how they'd make it a curveball though... I'm thinkin.

OH. HOW THE TEAM WAS CELEBRATING BECAUSE THEY BROKE THEIR STRING OF TIES (WITH.... A LOSS.) I just love them.

I feel like that tumblr post where people are like "IT'S HALLOWEEN" "IT'S JULY"

#Ted lasso spoilers #Ted lasso #V watches Ted lasso #V watches #Today was so long this all just ping ponged through my head all day

25 notes · View notes

letsdiscoverkitty · 3 years ago

Text

"Life" Update - May 2021

This is the last of the three updates I have to post at the moment. If anyone actually reads these, especially in one go, you really do deserve a medal and I have no idea what I have done to deserve your kindness and support but THANK YOU SO MUCH (to all of you who are here, you are all truly wonderful and amazing) Okay, let's get going....

I suppose the title is a bit, well, overkill. To say that anyone has been had any sort of "life" over the past year would be a huge misuse of the word. The global pandemic has, quite literally, turned life upside down for the vast majority of people and I know that lockdowns, especially in the UK, have meant that anything other than what was deemed "essential" has been off the cards, which has hit us all hard.

I personally found it quite difficult whilst I was in hospital as although on the one hand it was good to know that there wasn't much that you were missing out on whilst locked on a ward with 15 minutes fresh air (if you were lucky), it did make it hard to find/hold onto motivation at times. Coupled with the fear of how my dad's condition would progress, whether he would make it and what sort of home life I would be going back to; the world suddenly felt even noisier than it had before (which I didn't think was really possible). The situation seemed to further heighten my fears as well as add to them. I found my mind was swamped with so many questions and fears, to then be asked about my future/what I wanted to do with my life (that classic question) and what my motivations were to get better, was too much. I fell blank.

I had completely lost myself and any shed of hope that was left inside of me. I tried to put on a smile; paint a different picture to the outside world but inside I was dark. I was hollow. I was empty.

What was the point? You never know what is waiting around the corner; everything can turn upside down overnight. What kind of 'life' would there be going back to anyway? Would it be possible to go to University anymore or would there still be multiple restrictions in place? would that make the huge financial costs worth it? What sort of society will we be coming out of the pandemic anyway? Will we even come out of this? Will people ever go back to offices again? Will we be able to see friends soon or go out to places? What about travelling? Fun? LIFE?

I found depression swamped me more than ever after dad's accident. I was trying to hold myself together for mum but I was losing all hope of anything ever being 'the same' or 'okay' again. In the end, the only reason I accepted the admission was for mum - I wanted to be able to support her with dad in hospital and us not know what the future held; as much as I wished I could be there all the time, I knew in the state I was that I couldn't. Initially I was told the admission would be a short one, that I could then go back home to support my mum through the family trauma...but that 4 weeks soon turned into over 8 months, which I still can't believe.

Gosh, I am sorry, I seem to have got a little distracted. This was meant to be the POSITIVE update. So let's get to those bits...

NEWS ONE: I HAVE A JOB (starting in Sept)

So whilst in hospital my consultant kept trying to get me to think about what I wanted to do with my life (just the small questions you know *lol*) - in her eyes she thought it would be risky to go back to University to do neuroscience/a degree so intense, and that instead I should think about doing something more creative, taking small steps to get a part time job and then go from there - which, as much as I hated to admit, I agreed with. However after one particularly bad run-in with the nutritionist when she decided to tell me that she didn't think I could achieve a life beyond Anorexia (it must have been mid-way-ish through my admission) blah blah blah (I get that she could have been trying to motivate me but there is a way to go about it and then there are ways to really not go about it and she chose the latter). Anyway, I was rather angry/mad and ended up doing basically trying to prove everyone wrong and started doing some research into my different options...

Long story short: I ended up applying to a degree apprenticeship scheme in business management...I've never really considered something like this before, perhaps partially because at school they drilled into me that business was a "soft" subject as it would not be looked upon very highly for Oxbridge applications *rolls eyes*. Thankfully I did a lot of research into Degree Apprenticeships a few years ago so I knew where to look online. Anyway, back to this application. I ended up going through the process/tests, somehow managing to make it through the initial online stages, then just before I was discharged I was invited to a online interview!

I only had a few days to do the interview before it timed out so I actually ended up doing it In the end the day after I was discharged (not ideal) and I was convinced that I had messed it up as it was one of those ones where you get shown the question for around 30 seconds before being given 2 minutes to respond - i.e. stress.pressure.anxiety.stumbling over words. HORRENDOUS.

I somehow passed the interview and the reviews before being invited to an online assessment centre in Feb, which spanned a whole day and included multiple interviews (the first was a strengths based interview with 2 interviewers for just over an hour - yuck!!!) as well as a presentation which we were given 24hrs in advance to prepare for (we were given 4 'topics'/questions and had to answer all of them in a 15 minute window using aids if we chose to, again to 2 (different) interviewers before having a 45 minute further interview - double yuck!)

Dare I say that I actually enjoyed the preparation for the presentation and the interviews?! It was so nice to have a focus and something to be working on that I was actually really beginning to connect with/want/see myself doing. The interviews and presentation themselves? HORRIBLE but the process reignited something within me. After the assessment centre day we were told it could be 7-10 working days to hear back from them - waiting for anything like this is just the worst so I wasn't looking forward to it and tried not to get my hopes up as these schemes are ridiculously hard to get into... Well, I got the call the next day saying that they were so impressed and out of something like 14,000 applications, I was offered one of the spaces on the scheme!! - I honestly still can't believe it and imposter syndrome is v real -

I know at the beginning of this I sounded very blase about the whole thing but as I progressed through the process, as I read more about the scheme and the business and what it would entail, the more I began to get excited. The more I realised how interesting it was and what an amazing opportunity it would be for me.

Despite this, I was also at the time, finishing up yet another an application to University (for the millionth time, I swear I must be a pro at these personal statements by now) this time for psychology and behavioural studies. This was before I got the offer of the degree apprenticeship scheme, which I knew was a long shot with only a handful of places given for thousands of applicants, so I felt I had to keep my options open (Neuro is still an area of fascination to me but not so much with the INTENSE LEVEL of physiology and pharmacology that I was doing at Bristol. Yes bits of it were good and interesting but that degree was ridiculous and, again, I felt far more drawn towards the behavioural studies and psychology when researching into Universities). I ended up getting 3 offers, 1 interview for Cambridge and 1 rejection (ironically from Bristol, even with my recommendation/support being from my previous personal tutor at Bristol!) - so I suddenly had options. And then the offer from the degree apprenticeship came through and there were even more options to choose from.

It honestly felt so surreal (and still does).

In the end, after a lot of thinking and debating and researching and talking, I decided to withdraw my University application and I accepted the degree apprenticeship role. Overall it is such an incredible opportunity that I knew I couldn't turn down, whereas University will always be there. I am actually getting a little excited about it (as well as extremely nervous, but I must say that the company has made a really positive/good impression thus far, even as far as creating MH podcasts with a psychologist for us and offering things like zoom baking sessions!).

So what is this degree apprenticeship? In short, it is a 3 year course during which I will have a Monday to Friday job at the company (for which the office is actually commutable from home - it is about 1hrs drive, which is not the best but it does mean that I can stay at home for at least the first year and there is a train I could get if I was too tired to do the drive all the time. As much as staying at home is not my long term plan it might help with the transition back to work/education to have a bit of stability and the support). During the first 2 years at the company we do four separate 6 month rotations in different areas to get lots of experience (marketing, supply chain, sales etc) whilst in the final year you get to put in a preference for where you would like to work for the year long placement. During this, every 6 or 7 weeks, we have to spend a week at University (which is not in commutable distance at all so the the company pays for our accommodation, travel and food during this time). As far as I have been told, we also get time during the working week allocated to do Uni work as well as our standard 'desk' jobs. Oh and not to mention one of the biggest sellers for degree apprenticeships....the company is basically sponsoring you so pays ALL of your tuition fees PLUS a basic salary! This means that you come out, in this case, with a Chartered business management degree, 3 years of hands-on work experience, as well as you being pretty much guaranteed a job within the company AND no student debt!!! How incredible is that? PLUS one big perk of the job is that they allow dogs in the office - I mean how could I say no to that?!!!!

So yes, by some magical miracle I actually have a job lined up for September! It still doesn't feel real and I am yet to fully process it. They don't know how it will be affected by COVID but the company did continue the programme last year (unlike some that postponed) so fingers crossed all should be going ahead. I have 'met' the other 4(?) who are on the scheme at my office as well and they seem lovely (including one other person who is my age/slightly older - which was such a relief as I was worried about it being only people just out of college).

I realise that it is going to be tough, I do not underestimate that at all, but I couldn't let anorexia still yet ANOTHER life milestone and opportunity away from me. There was a lot of questioning as to whether I should take it or not; I went back and forth between many spreadsheets that I made but I think this opportunity far outweighs going back to University. I have tried that route twice already and had to leave because of everything/haven't really coped (I think in some ways, being at Uni there is TOO MUCH free time and it allowed my perfectionism to run riot as I always felt like I was 'behind' in one way or another?). And that is not to mention that if I was going back to University, I would need to spend another 3-4 years studying, I would leave with little work experience or job in mind at the age of 29/30 with a mountain of debt.... And as I said before, I can always go back to University if I want to in the future/re train if I decide to, but this opportunity with a global company, well, this will never ever come my way again.

So yes that is my BIG BIG news. But I also have one more bit of news....

I'm getting a kitten. Yes, A KITTEN!!!!! I have so much more to say on this but for now you will have to wait and see. Photos will come when SHE does (a couple of weeks now)!!!

#personal #update #long #sorry I am no good at writing short posts anymore #well I never was #but this is my big news #TWO BITS OF BIG NEWS #ive still been baking and crocheting #and have taken up some gardening #and just generally trying to muddle through each day to be honest with you

36 notes · View notes

ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Note

could I request something where E is like editing but y/n gets bored and sits on his lap and starts to grind which ends up with maybe some punishments from E after he's had enough?

(my first E anything, this was a trip haha -- shout out to Pao @persistence-ofmemories, here’s your ethan smut lol)

You’ve been watching him all day. Strolling around the house shirtless with his AirPods in and sipping a smoothie while he conversed easily on continuous business calls. Hunched over his laptop answering emails. Sitting at the table with Grayson while they brainstormed new video ideas and Wakeheart promotional pitches.

Something about businessman Ethan hit so much different for you. He’s not an overly serious person on the daily, but CEO Ethan doesn’t fuck around. When he’s on these calls, his voice takes on this timbre that’s deep and confident and self-assured. Leaves no room for argument when he knows what’s best for his brands. It makes you clench your thighs and bite your lip as you watch and listen from your perch at the bar where you’re doing your own work for the day on your laptop.

But he can also get extremely caught up in it, in the perfection and responsibilities that are required when you’re a self-made businessman. Sometimes it’s hot and endearing, and sometimes it’s frustrating. Tonight, it’s frustrating.

You emerge from the ensuite bathroom in his room, dressed for bed in one of his t-shirts and squeezing some of the excess water out of your hair from your shower, to find him at his desk chair and on the phone again. You frown, checking the time on your phone. It’s after 10:30 PM, much too late considering he’s been doing this since around 8 this morning.

You walk up behind him, leaning over the back of the chair and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You press a lingering kiss to his temple and nuzzle his cheek as you inspect what he’s working on. A still frame from their new video they’re about to post is on the screen of his laptop.

“I can’t decide if we should leave this part at 11 minutes in, bro. What do you think?”

You don’t know who he’s talking to, probably Ryan or maybe even Grayson; they have a habit of calling each other even if they're both in the house, rather than just get up and go wherever the other one is. You’re a little confused as to why he’s editing of all things right now, though.

“Babe, what are you doing? Isn’t this what you pay Ricky for now?” you ask, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. It’s getting so long, and you're not mad about it one bit.

Ethan glances up at you and puckers his lips. You oblige him with a quick peck, but you still expect an answer. He has a habit of trying to temporarily appease you when he’s busy and focused on something.

He sighs when he realizes you’re not giving up that easily. He puts the phone on mute, and you do indeed see Grayson’s name on the screen. “Ricky’s swamped, so I told him I had this one. It’s not too crazy.”

“You’ve been working literally all day, E. Can’t you come to bed so we can spend some time together before we go to sleep? I can’t stay up too late, I have a meeting in the morning.”

Ethan hesitates, turning the phone speaker back on to talk to his brother through his headphones. “Hey, Gray one sec.” He mutes it again. “Sweetheart, this won’t take me very long, I promise. The video is gonna be pretty short.”

You roll your eyes and pick up the towel you had dropped to the floor, turning your back on him to hang it up in the bathroom. You refuse to be the nagging girlfriend. If he wants to prioritize work he doesn't even need to be finishing right now, you’re happy to guilt trip him.

“Whatever, E. It doesn’t feel like a long time to you, but a ‘short video’ still means like three hours.”

When you come back into the bedroom, you expect him to be lounging on the bed with his phone, laptop shut for the night and LED lights on. So when you find him in the exact same position, talking to Grayson once again, a wave of rage and hurt washes over you. Ethan is usually an amazing and attentive boyfriend, and you’re not particularly clingy with him; you just want to spend some intimate time together after a nonstop work schedule on both your ends had left that time lacking in your relationship lately, and which doesn’t show any signs of changing in the coming week.

You consider giving in and slipping under the covers to pout and go to sleep after all. Even if you were tired enough to go to sleep now, though, you know you’d be way too mad to achieve that. Your course of action is easy, then.

“Baby...” Ethan huffs, irritation and amusement both detectable in his tone when you march over to him and swing a leg across his lap. He grunts when you plop yourself in his lap, adjusting until you’ve got your arms wrapped around his middle and your face nuzzled in his neck. “Seriously?”

“Seriously?” you mock his deep voice. You know he hates that, and your lips curve up where you press them to his neck when you feel him tense up a little. “We both know you don’t need to be doing this right now, I heard you and Gray decide to post in three days. No sponsor with a deadline to get approval from. You’re just being a workaholic instead of a considerate boyfriend.”

He shakes his head, his arms curved around you so he can still reach the keyboard of his laptop. You hear the clicks of the keys resume as he has the nerve to keep working. “I just want to get this done, so it’s over with and so I don’t have to worry about it in a couple of days. You’re being a brat.”

You scoff indignantly. You’re being a brat just because you want to spend some of the limited free time you both have with your boyfriend?

If that’s what he thinks you are, then you’ll let him have it.

You can hear Grayson’s muffled voice coming through the one AirPod Ethan’s wearing in the ear opposite from the one you’re next to. Perfect. You smirk and start planting sweet, innocent kisses up the side of his neck until you reach his ear, taking the lobe in-between your teeth teasingly.

Ethan inhales sharply when you tug on it with a little nibble before releasing it and putting your mouth right to his ear. You start rocking against him, sitting up some to put your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get off on you, with or without your help,” you whisper straight into his ear, smirking when your hot breath raises goosebumps on his bare skin. Now, it’s just a competition between his stubbornness and his desire for your pussy. The latter will win, you know it — it’s only a matter of time. “If you want to make this a mutual effort, I’m more than happy for you to do that.”

He releases a heavy breath, and you smile against his skin when you feel him hardening predictably beneath you. You grind deeper into him, and lick your tongue along the words inked into his skin on his collarbone.

He stays stubbornly focused in the chair, and you can hear Grayson still talking in his ear, but Ethan isn’t responding to him. His chest and neck are flushing pink, and you sit back to see if that pretty color is gracing his cheeks, too.

You grin when you see that it is. His arms are still draped loosely around your waist, no longer typing, so you lean back with your hands on his knees, still grinding on the large bulge growing in his sweatpants. His eyes trail over you, how the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing pools at your hips, exposing your soft cotton panties that you sleep in so he can see your pussy rocking on his dick.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, tossing your hair over one shoulder and biting your lip. You reach one hand down and lift your shirt so you can both see the wet patch growing in your panties. He lets out this tiny little masculine moan that has you going harder, faster. You grin and lift your eyes to watch him watch your hips, and the heat in his gaze makes you shiver. “Would feel better if you were inside me, E. Want that big dick inside me, stretching me out. Don’t you want that, baby?”

Ethan shakes his head incredulously again, clearing his throat. “Hey, I’m tired Gray. I’ll finish tomorrow, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for his brother to answer before ripping his headphone out of his ear, tossing it onto his desk, and tapping the red button on his phone to hang up. You squeal and giggle when he stands up suddenly, cupping his big hands under your thighs so you come with him. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and don’t waste any time threading your fingers into his hair and dragging his lips to yours.

He moans into your mouth and stumbles to the bed, but your kiss is short-lived as he tosses you onto the mattress. You bounce and laugh again, scooting back to settle against the pillows as he crawls predatorily on top of you. He looks fucking amazing -- his hair a mess, skin tan from all the shirtless skateboarding he’s been doing lately, dick print evident in his grey sweats. Your mouth and pussy water simultaneously, and you reach out for him as he gets closer.

“You think that was cute?” he asks with a tiny smirk, allowing you to wrap your arms around him as he settles between your legs. “Turning me on while I’m working? While I’m on the phone with my brother?”

“Kind of. I did ask you nicely to stop working,” you remind him, trailing a finger down the line bisecting his torso until you reach his pants. You palm his erection through the soft fabric, grinning when he thrusts into your touch. “Not my fault you can’t listen.”

Ethan hums and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, making your hand fall away from him as he slinks them down your freshly shaved legs and leans back to toss them over his shoulder. His eyes are glued to your pussy and the shimmer of your arousal clinging to your smooth lower lips. Your head falls to your shoulder as you spread your legs more for him, whining thankfully when his fingers brush up your slit.

“So wet for me already,” Ethan says, collecting the slick moisture on his fingertips as he strokes you lazily.

You nod, lifting your hips to encourage him to deepen his touch. It feels good, but it’s barely there, and he definitely hasn't come near your clit. “Please, E.”

He tsks his tongue at you, smirking as he watches your face watch his. “Patience, baby. You couldn’t wait for me to finish working. You’ll have to wait a bit to get to cum, now.”

His words turn you on as much as they anger you. He laughs, actually laughs, when he feels more wetness seep onto his fingers from where he’s toying with your hole. “Oh, baby, did you like that? You like me making you wait?”

You have too much pride even through all the maddeningly unsatisfying pleasure he’s bringing about to answer him outright. You let out a loud moan when he sinks his two middle fingers into you. “You...you’re an ass.”

He chuckles again, wiggling his fingers a little bit inside you before taking them out, making sure he has your eyes locked on his when he sucks them into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, licking the stray bits that cling to his lips as he leans back over you and slips the same fingers back inside. He still doesn’t touch your clit, but his fingers start pumping and moving just how you like, filling you up but putting all the pressure in just the right spots.

Your legs spread even wider, head tossed back to the pillow as you grab the forearm supporting him over you with one hand and clutch the sheets by your head with the other.

“E...holy shit!” you whimper, digging your nails into that eagle on his arm. His fingers feel so good, hitting you just right, but it’s not enough to make you cum, and he knows it. He smirks down at you, watching you fall apart as the sloppy slick sounds of your pussy mingle in the room with his heavy breaths and your high-pitches gasps and moans. You don’t know how much more you can take of it.

“Ethan, please make me cum, please make me cum!”

Ethan groans, your begging music to his ears, and he relents by finally adding his thumb to the mix, lighting upon your clit and rubbing gentle, slow circles into it. Your back lurches off the bed, your eyes meeting his as you plead with him not to stop, that you’re almost there.

Of course he doesn't listen, though. You want to sob when he pulls out of you with a harsh growl, licking his digits clean again before sitting back and shoving his sweats down his legs. He stands off the side of the bed to kick them off his feet.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he reprimands, shaking his head when he sees your hand instantly gravitate to your pussy. You whine but obey, waiting for him to climb back on the bed. He gathers your shirt in his hands, pulling up. “Lemme see your tits, baby. Wanna see them when I fuck you.”

You lift your arms at once, letting him pull it over your head so that you're both left completely naked. Ethan cups them both in his hands as he settles between your spread legs once again, and he ducks down to swipe his tongue over your nipples with sweet little suckles. He leaves each of them with a nip of his teeth and a soothing swipe of his tongue before he’s moving up to your mouth. You didn't realize it until that moment, but you needed the intimacy of his kiss, and it both calms you and makes you voracious for more of him.

As if he can read your mind, Ethan reaches between the two of you and takes his dick in hand, running the tip up and down your slit to coat himself in your copious arousal before tapping it against your clit. You jerk against him and moan into his mouth, which you feel curve against yours. He pulls back, watching your face intently as he pops the head into your entrance and sinks into you with one slow, gradual thrust.

You don’t think you've ever been this close this early, but you're still wound tight from how high he brought you just a few moments ago with his fingers. “God, E, fuck me. Fuck me with that big fucking dick.”

For the first time tonight, he obeys your command, moaning wantonly at your words. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and keep your legs close to your body as he pushes your knees to your chest. He’s deep deep in this angle, and you cry out so loud you wouldn't be surprised if Grayson could hear you down the hall.

That’s the least of your concerns, though, when he’s pumping into you so good, his thrusts hard and powerful as he grunts along with you, desperation clear in his own deep voice. You can tell he’s close too, He’s hitting just the right spot, and you lock eyes with him as you clutch his biceps in a death grip as he gets you right to the edge.

“Oh my...fuuuck E, I’m gonna cum!” you sob, and your body is letting go so hard you think your head has gone to another dimension.

“Baby, shit,” he hisses with how fucking tight your pussy starts spasming around his cock, how extra wet and warm everything gets all of the sudden. His head swims, and he slows his dick inside you, his heart and his ego ready to explode with how much he loves seeing you fall apart so good, because of him.

He lets go of your legs to lean over you again and mouth at your neck, bringing you back to earth with whispers of sweet nothings and gentle kisses to your face.

It takes what feels like all night, but eventually you can open your eyes again and be cognizant of your surroundings. You smile tiredly and let out a whispered curse as you cup his cheeks to kiss him lazily for a few moments, before releasing him and telling him to cum, too. He sits back again, and you shove your arms under your pillow, thrusting your chest out so your tits bounce for him as he starts pumping into your sensitive pussy again, chasing his nut.

His eyes flit back and forth from your chest to your face, where you're smiling up at him, all fucked out and sexy. “Fucking give it to me, E,” you whisper, clenching around him purposefully. He groans, looking at you desperately, questioningly. “Inside, baby.”

Ethan gives you all of three more sloppy, hard thrusts before you’re moaning with him as he shoots his load exactly where you told him. You love the unique warmth of his cum deep in your pussy.

He slowly collapses down on top of you, and you welcome his weight literally with open arms, holding him close to your chest, playing with his hair and giving him the same loving whispers he did to you.

When his breathing has slowed nearly back to normal, you direct his head up to kiss you. Your lips smack together quietly, and the feel of his mouth on yours just makes you feel complete in a way nothing else can.

“I should interrupt your work more often.”

#this makes me nervous #not exactly punishments but i'm not super into that sorry #hope this satisfies any e cravings haha #ethan dolan #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan fic #dolan twins #grayson dolan #dolan twins fic #blurb #e blurb

336 notes · View notes

yandearest · 5 years ago

Text

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok��s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #yandere #yandere bts fic #yandere jung hoseok #bts x reader #dark bts #dark bts au #y!hoseok #hoseok fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #dark jhope #HUNGER GAMES AU

497 notes · View notes

unstoppableforcce · 4 years ago

Text

dark side

CHAPTER EIGHT: a slip

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: okay i had this queued to go up during my vacation but then it didn’t post (no surprise there lol) but it’s okay! bc i didn’t like it much anyways and this version is so much better now honestly (so tumblr saved me lol)

its still short bc I cut it in half so i can post this and simultaneously work on the next part !! maybe next part tomorrow night? I don’t want to get hopes up but maybe !! thanks for being so patient w me guys !!

It was a slip right?

The words repeated over and over again in his head and for minutes he just stood there with the phone in his hand, long after you had already ended the call, letting them repeat. They bounced around like an echo between his ears, hitting every inch of his head. It was the only thing he could focus on.

But it was a slip, wasn’t it? A simple slip of the tongue.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself to steal even the tiniest bit of focus back. He had work to focus on, finding Christina to focus on... he had to hang up the phone and get on a plane. He had to focus on something other than you, and to do that, he had to tell himself that it was a slip and that it was meaningless.

It was meaningless, like telling your waiter at a restaurant that they should enjoy their meal as well. Just a slip.

Meaningless.

And for the first few hours, that worked. It got him back on the plane, it got him thinking about getting Christina back and getting Jurado’s testimony. It got him back focusing on his work, prioritizing it over you like he was supposed to do. Work was supposed to come first, that was the whole basis for your relationship.

This was just the first time it felt wrong... No, it was the first time he admitted it did.

There were plenty of times that came before where his heart weighed heavy having to put you at arm’s distance to protect his work. That morning in the shower, as your hands cascaded with the hot water down his skin, your eyes just pleaded to help him, to alleviate the heavy stress... but he put work first. That night, after the Ambassador’s drink party, when he started asking you about work, putting his job before your’s and your loyalty, he put work first. The day he caught one of the god father’s and you paid the price, suffering in the shouting match delivered by Stechner while he kept his mouth shut about your arrangement, he put his work first.

And it had felt wrong every time, but it was only very recently that he figured out why.

It was because even though you ended whatever things were between the two of you before he left for Curaçao, he loved you. It was because now, even after fighting through the new pain of heartbreak inflicted by another, he loved you.

It was because for the first time in his entire life, he loved someone and they said it back. For the first time, he wanted them to say it back. For the first time, there was no obligation, no sense of doing it because it was the right thing to do or because that was what was expected of you. For the first time, someone told them they loved him because they meant it, because you meant it.

Even if it was just a meaningless slip.

But who was he kidding? Putting work before his feelings for you, trying to pretend that it was just some meaningless slip... it just wouldn’t work.

The problem was that he knew better. He knew you better.

Part of it was the creeping memories of his psychology degree from what felt like a whole lifetime ago, part of it was just the fact that he knew you too well.

Slips weren’t meaningless and you were too careful for anything you did to be meaningless.

Slips came out when they were practiced phrases. Telling your waiter to enjoy their meal as well was a practiced phrase, maybe not meant for your waiter, but practiced on your tongue nonetheless. That’s why they came out, they were practiced.

And he heard almost all your phone calls.

You were practically living with him for a few weeks, he heard your phone calls even if he didn’t listen to them, and you never told anyone you loved them over the phone. So it couldn’t have been practiced in that way. The only way it could have been practiced was if you were thinking it, over and over again, the same way he was.

It didn’t matter that you were exhausted, that whatever was happening at work was weighing you down so far that you snapped and broke up with him... none of that mattered. Because a slip doesn’t put words in your mouth that you wouldn’t say naturally.

It wasn’t meaningless. It couldn’t be, not with you. If it slipped from your lips, it was because you meant it.

And he couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried or pretended he had. Work had to come first and all he could think about was you, the quick words playing over and over again in his head.

“Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you--

Fuck. He loved you and goddamn, maybe you loved him too.

And maybe none of it mattered because work had to come first. He had to find Christina, he had to focus.

As his plane slowed to a stop on the runway adjacent to the embassy, he quickly jumped up, grabbing his bag and moving to the door, ready to burst out the second they let him. He had his focus back for a minute and he needed to ride it as far as he could take it.

He just didn’t know that it would only take him a few steps onto the runway, finding you dressed in your street clothes, crossing over from the opposite direction with a file in your hand.

He froze on the spot, letting the gusts of wind that fought by dishevel his hair without second thought. You were all that he could see.

He never saw you in your street clothes, or at least, he hadn’t since the first night he met you. It was just pant suits and sometimes nothing at all. But now, you were just wearing jeans and a tee shirt, your hair blowing in the same blustering wind that threatened to push him over as he stood caught, like a deer in the headlights.

Immediately, his brain started up again, accelerated, like the beating of his heart.

He loved you. You loved him. He loved you. You loved him—

He couldn’t do this right now. He had to focus.

Shaking his head in a way that surely looked like he was trying to save his hair from the wind, he tried to shake the thoughts from his head. And by the looks of it, you were fighting a similar onslaught of thoughts.

But by the time you crossed the runway to meet his frozen form, you had picked the line of focus you were going in on and it wasn’t the slip you had made over the phone. With your stern face and file in hand, it was clearly work that you had chosen as well.

“I found her.” You shouted slightly to counteract the loud wind that whipped around the two of you.

It wasn’t as easy a fight for him to overcome now that you were in front of him though. As you passed the file to him, he couldn’t help but spend an extra half-second mesmerized by you and your ability to do your job. He had called you what? a few hours ago and you had already found her? Even if being a blonde white girl in Colombia was like wearing a tracker, it was still impressive work that you had done for him.

Work you had done because he asked... No. He stopped himself quickly. This was about finding Christina, not the fact that you had done it for him.

He flipped open the file, not hesitating on the fact that it was a CIA file but fighting the wind to keep the papers from flying away. “Where is she?”

“FARC has her in a jungle stronghold.” You explained, stepping up closer to him to point at the picture paper-clipped to the bottom of the file.

It was definitely her, filthy and restrained, newspaper in her hand and the barrel of a gun pressed up under her chin. This was his fault. All of it. Getting her involved and now you... he couldn’t shake this feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong.

But he also couldn’t linger on just a feeling. This was his job, he had to get her back.

“You’ve got coordinates?” He asked, glancing up from the file’s top edge to find your stare directed down to your feet. Immediately, his heart dropped a similar distance. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s... look, it’s complicated.” You huffed, settling your hands up onto your hips as you brought your eyes back up to meet his. “You’ll need an army to get her back, the Ambassador won’t give it to you and I can’t either...”

He flipped a page in the file almost subconsciously, glancing down from your hesitant frame to find an all too familiar name scribbled at the top in red pen and your handwriting.

The Castaño Brothers.

“They’re CIA sponsored communist killers, two of Stechner’s contacts but I can’t get you a meeting because—”

“Fuck.” He huffed, shutting the file as it all caught up to him.

The interruption caught you off guard though, your face twisting slightly as you asked back to him, “what?”

This was what he hated about being in Colombia nowadays. It was his history, it was the blood that coated his hands, ten layers deep.

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you knew or not. He got your file the first day he was truly introduced to you, but did you get his? You had to, right? Your whole job was to spy on him, how were you supposed to do that if Stechner didn’t fill you in on exactly what he was?

He wasn’t the hero the embassy hailed him to be. He was just a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to bring down Escobar.

Did you know? Did it matter if you did?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized those two questions had very different answers.

You had to have known. If it wasn’t in his file, you had to have heard from everyone else around the Embassy. Hell, Stechner probably went out of his way to fill you in on his dirty past the day he assigned you to him.

And that first night? You had to have seen it in him when you agreed to take him home with you.

The guilt in his eyes... the pain that he wore just beneath the surface... the weight that sat so heavily on his shoulders...It was everything he saw in you, everything that drew him to you in the first place. The familiarity of everything about you.

Did it matter if you did know?

Looking at you now, as the woman he loved, he wanted to say yes because he wanted to be a good man in your eyes, he wanted to be a man worthy of your love but if he was being honest with himself... it didn’t matter at all.

He had seen the scars on your body. He had hear rumors around the embassy as to why your file was as redacted as it was.

There was talk about explosions and spying and foreign governments and... and maybe none of it was true but he saw the same guilt in your eyes that he saw in his own when he looked in the mirror. He saw you trying to do good with every girl being trafficked that you tried to hunt down the same way he tried to do good by bringing down the godfather’s of Cali. He saw a familiar weight resting on your shoulders as he massaged the sore kinks from your muscles laying in bed at night.

It didn’t matter what either of you had done, you were both in the same boat and he knew that from the first second he laid eyes on you.

You had a dark side just like he did, and he didn’t care about yours so why would his matter to you?

“I know them.” He admitted carefully, looking up to meet your stare and gauge your reaction. And when you held it back with equally as careful, he felt just enough ease to continue. “I can get their help.”

When your head gave a quick but approving nod, he felt the smallest release of tension in his shoulders. He had your trust, he could relax in that respect. The rest of the tension held though, because now he had to walk head first into the dark past he swore to himself that he left behind as he came back to Colombia.

And he had to bring you with him.

“Where do we find them?”

—

“What do pretty girls like you eat? Hmm? The picada here is the shit, I can get you a plate.”

“Oh, I’m on a strict diet of lots of coffee and not taking shit from people.”

Any fear he had about bringing you along to meet with Don Berna had flown out the open windows of the restaurant the instant you sat down next to him at the table, taking up a space equal to him as you spread your legs and you leaned back.

Your quick wit, your smart mouth... he had to stop and wonder for a second why he had even been afraid in the first place.

Narcos may not have been your game, but you weren’t new to the world of terrible yet powerful men. If anything, you had been dealing with them for longer than you had even been with the CIA. And you were good at it.

Your smart mouth was enough to bring a hefty chuckle to Berna’s chest as he ate, enough to shake the table slightly and even more when he let his fist fall to the wood to grab the bottle in front of him.

“I like her, Peña.” He minded as he washed down his food with a swig from the bottle, shifting his disgusting stare off of you and back to the suited DEA hero sitting next to you. “You should bring her every time.”

Every time? Like this was some weekly regular meeting? God, Javi forgot just how much he hated this.

“Can you help us or not?” He quickly moved to refocus the conversation, leaning forward just enough to level his strict stare with the large man and settle his elbows on the table.

“Can I help you find your barbie doll? Easily.” Berna spoke with an nonchalant shrug as he reached for his drink again and downed a solid swig to wash out the barely chewed food that his mouth was stuffed with. But once the shrug fell and the food was swallowed, his head tilted much more playfully than either you or Javi could take comfort in. “Can you afford my price... maybe not so easy.”

You glanced to Javi in the same second he glanced to you, but the words fell from your lips first. “What’s the price?”

“A promise.”

The two of you didn’t need to verbally urge him to continue, your furrowed brows took care of that for you. Berna took another few bites, then another drink, then sat back with his napkin in hand and continued.

“One day, my name will pop up on the DEA’s to-do list, and all you have to promise me you’ll do, is give me a phone call.”

You scoffed at that, just loud enough to get the few guards who waited a few feet away to turn and look at the obvious show of disrespect. Thankfully, Berna just seemed amused by it, laughing into his meal. But Javi didn’t have the guts you had to back your brazenness, not as he began considering what that really meant.

“A get out of jail free card?” He repeated back carefully in English as he drew his arms back to cross over his chest, leaving you leaned forward on the table.

But again, Berna just shrugged, “Exactly.”

You glanced back to Javi, maybe in a look of commiseration or maybe to try and warn him against what you had to be sure he was going to do. Whatever look it was, he didn’t hold your stare long enough to decipher it. He didn’t have the luxury to let you get into his head right now.

Because maybe you’d try to change his mind and he couldn’t afford that.

He needed to get Christina back and you had made it clear on the runway that this was your only chance to get to FARC in the jungle and get her out safely. He knew you were too good at your job to not have found an easier way if one existed so that left this as his only option. Whatever Don Berna wanted, he was going to get and he knew it.

That was why he looked so damn smug as he pestered with and easy, “Agent Peña?”

It was a promise to break the law, but what was his defense? Tell him ‘no, I know I did that for you in the past but not anymore’? It just wouldn’t work. Berna knew he was desperate because he was desperate.

He liked to think that you’d do the same if you were in his shoes, he liked to think that you wouldn’t judge him for it.

And as he looked back to meet the stare you passed him that he had carefully avoided, he found you already looking to the table in front of you, like you knew his answer before he had even come close to admitting it aloud.

Either because you knew him that well or because that was what you would do and you couldn’t blame him for doing the same.

“Fine. You have a deal.”

“Then lets go kill some communists.” Berna bellowed out loudly, earning a few chuckles from his men who stood around.

And you couldn’t help but laugh at that too. Not because killing communists was something you relished in, quite the opposite actually.

You were surely laughing because of that day you spent in the jungle with him. The day you told him you didn’t come to Colombia for drugs or communism.

Yet here you were.

If he had the heart to laugh, maybe he would have mustered on as well at the irony of it all. Instead, he stood up with you and everything quickly got started.

Before the two of you knew it, you were both dressed in green fatigues, loaded into the helicopter and headed off towards the jungle as you continued to fight off Berna’s comments.

“So, if you’re not DEA, what part of the gringo government can handle you?” He mocked playfully, practically licking his lips as he watched you lean forward to fix your feet in your boots.

“What makes you think anyone can handle me?” You easily retorted, growing a smirk on Javi’s face that he struggled to hide.

Berna was equally as amused, chuckling with each and every smart remark you mustered.

And it just kept going.

“Did he find you in a brothel? You know how he likes his brothels and hell, I know plenty of men who would pay for someone like you.”

Javi sent him a warning glare but you weren’t deterred.

“There isn’t enough money in the Narco world.”

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart.”

Eventually, you just rolled your eyes and switched off your headset and about a half hour later, the three of you ended up deep in the jungle, unloading night vision goggles for the Castano’s with ease.

You looked oddly comfortable in the green fatigues, strapping on a bullet proof vest, and loading your weapon.

He knew it was because underneath the sullen spy exterior you put on for work, and the sexy smirk you wore as you straddled him in his bedroom, you were a soldier. That’s what you had been before all of this.

And for the briefest of seconds, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to meet you in that phase of your life.

Without Colombia weighing down on his shoulders, when he was still just a simple DEA agent back in the states, would he have stumbled into you in a bar while you were on leave? Would it have been the sense of a dark familiarity in your bones that drew him to you on one of his darkest nights, haunted by the phantom bloodied hand as he sipped his whiskey, or would it have been your buoyant smile and the sway of your hips?

Would you love him all the same? Would your unscarred bodies feel as right as they did now, slotted against each other as your lips danced over his?

Was he glad that he met you now, because it gave him the chance to know you at all, or did he want you without all of Colombia, without the war and the work and Stechner and your job and his...

Did he want you as a respite from the darkness that haunted him at night or did he want you for you?

The longer he stared at you across the table while you prepared for the incursion, the more he realized that it had started out as a simple reprieve from work and the stress that came with it but that wasn’t what it was anymore. Whether you broke up with him or not. He loved you. Not for your work, though your competency certainly was a turn on, but just for you.

And it was getting easier and easier to think about in his head, becoming more and more practiced. He loved you for you.

For your smile when you woke up and rolled over to kiss his forehead first thing before you got up every morning.

For the sanity he felt when he was wrapped in your arms, no matter what was going on outside.

For everything he was when he was with you that he wasn’t when he was without you. Soft, human, unburdened... a good man...

Colombia had nothing to do with it. It was just you and him.

“Thank you.” He said pretty silently, trying to keep it just between the two of you as the sun began to set around you, casting shadows over your face while you assembled the M4 in front of you with ease.

His words stopped you though, your hands freezing as your stare switched back up to him. “For this?”

He nodded, “you don’t have to be out here for this, you don’t have to be putting your life on the line for me—“

“Javi, don’t...”

“I’m serious.” He fought as he positioned his gun in the back of his pants. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“You’re doing this for me—“

“Yeah, and if I thought for a second you wouldn’t do the same for me, maybe I’d hesitate but...” you sighed, shaking your head as your attention dropped back to your work, your hands still moving with practiced ease. “Just... you don’t have to thank me.”

Someone shouted something from across the small camp, signalling that everyone was ready to go and you quickly snapped the rest of the gun together and strapped it over your vested chest. But before you moved to head out into the jungle clearing and towards the helicopter, he caught your arm and pulled you towards him, as much as he could with the two of you wearing your bulky bullet proof vests.

He lowered his voice as he brought his head closer to yours in spite of your protest, “thank you.”

And that was when you reached your hand back around his head and caught him completely off guard, bringing your lips to his for a brief kiss. A brief kiss that burned the same way your words had in his mind as the phone call from hours ago ended. With the simple touch of your lips to his, you were confirming everything you had when you ended the phone call, everything that had been occupying his thoughts the whole day.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You sighed one last time before turning away and following the soldiers and Castano brothers to the helicopter. And he heard the unspoken words that follow it.

You didn’t want him to thank you because you loved him and you knew he loved you, you knew he’d do the same for you.

He didn’t need to guess if it was a slip or not anymore, that didn’t matter.

He knew you loved him. And fuck, he really loved you.

Now, he had a war zone to head into and a woman to rescue. And with you by his side, things didn’t feel so dark anymore.

tags:

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon @tiffdawg @readsalot73 @way-too-addicted-to-anime @keeper0fthestars @adikaofmandalore @opheliaelysia @magneticbucky @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @larakasser @littlevodika @mandoren @mistermiraclee @rogueonestan @kaetastic @littlemissthistle @maytheglitter(open)

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena #narcos #can you believe we’re coming up on the end if this?#i love these two so much its not even funny #pedro pascal x reader

150 notes · View notes

empyreanwritings · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Lonely

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral!Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, feelings of loneliness and anxiety

Summary: On a late night run, Bucky meets someone who actually understands how he feels.

A/N: hello friends! it has been awhile since i have posted an actual one shot, so i decided a good comeback would be my entry for @captainscanadian ‘s 1k writing challenge! i picked the College AU for our Buck Boi and idk where this came from, but it came from a deep place i guess aldskfjdsl i hope y’all like it!

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

Bucky was fortunate because he never truly knew what it meant to be alone. Growing up, he always had Steve by his side. Sometimes that meant getting his ass kicked behind the school dumpsters, but at least they did that together, too. Everyone in the city knew who Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were - two teens with charming smiles and blue eyes that could convince the older crowd into giving them just about anything. Free ice cream. Clothing that fit Bucky just right but could swallow Steve whole when he was still half his friend's size. Fresh produce to bring back to their mothers. It was always different but still a welcome perk of being the iconic duo.

When they separated for college - Steve choosing to go to an art school in California, and Bucky finding himself in the halls of Stanford - they still kept in touch, but he found solace in the friendship of his roommates.

Sam was full of sarcasm and toothy grins that made anyone around him smile too. He and Bucky had a habit of butting heads over small stuff like who left a spoon in the sink or whose turn it was to buy more milk, but they both knew they'd do anything for each other. Peter, or Quill as he preferred to be called, wasn't in their dorm often, but when he was, they always had a good time. Bucky wouldn't trust Quill to wake him up for an exam, but he knew there was no one better to go to if he was looking for a place to party for the night. The three of them were incredibly different, yet they got along just fine.

He made friends in different classes too; Wanda in his environmental biology class; Gamora, Quill's girlfriend, in his mythology class; and Scott, who he met sleeping in the stairwell behind the library one day.

Wherever Bucky went, he always had someone with him. He was never alone.

But, on nights when he felt his chest tighten and the breath catch in his throat, he couldn't understand why he always felt lonely. His mother used to remind him that being alone and being lonely were two different things, but he didn't understand how it was possible - how he could feel like he was missing something despite sitting in a room full of people.

It was another one of those nights for him. Sleep never came, and the more he tossed and turned in bed, the more frustrated he became. The only thing he could think of to get his mind off of the loneliness he felt was to go on a run, so he quickly changed into appropriate workout attire and dashed out of his apartment.

He ignored the fact that it was two in the morning and Sam, who happened to still be up studying, knew better than to ask where he was going. Sometimes the guy just needed to clear his head, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Bucky ran until his lungs burned. Every breath he took felt like glass shards in his chest, but he relished in the feeling because it distracted him from the thoughts racing through his mind. He only stopped to take a breather when black spots started to dance in the corner of his eyes, and he had the campus fountain to lean back on. The moment he sat down, he could feel his muscles practically sigh in relief, and he had to laugh. For being as fit as he was, he still had limits. What a way to remember he was human after all.

The cool spray of the fountain hit his face, and he leaned back ever so slightly to get a little bit more of it. It was incredibly refreshing; he wasn't against sitting there for hours, but he knew someone would come out and think he was high on something. High on adrenaline, maybe, but certainly not high on anything he wanted to be high on.

"I wouldn't fall asleep in that position."

Your sudden presence made Bucky jump and nearly fall into the fountain. You weren't there when he first ran up, which meant you must have stumbled upon him sitting there while he was enjoying the cool mist. The fact that he didn't hear you coming worried him. Clearly, he needed to work on becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"Speaking from experience?" He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He tried to will himself to get up, but his muscles refused.

"Actually, yes," you replied with a smile. "I was so exhausted after a lab one day, I fell asleep sitting up and tumbled straight into the water. I'm pretty sure my picture is still plastered all over Twitter somewhere."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It was hilarious."

You gestured towards the spot next to him, silently asking if you could sit there. Bucky wasn't sure why you wanted to spend time with him when you didn't know him, but he wasn't going to say no. As weird as it sounded, your presence was comforting. Made him feel like he wasn't running from something but running towards you instead.

A small smile spread across your face as you sat down. You dipped your fingers into the fountain for a moment, quietly watching the ripples grow bigger and bigger until they finally disappeared. You did this a few times before turning your attention back to Bucky. He wondered if this was something you liked to do - something that calmed you on your worst nights. He even started to feel bad because he might have stumbled on your private spot. Not that a fountain in middle of campus was entirely private, but it must be nicer at this time of night.

"Can I ask you something?" Bucky felt the heat rise in his cheeks when you turned to look at him. He wasn't sure if he should have just enjoyed the comfortable silence, but there was so much he wanted to know about you.

"Make it good," you hummed. "Cause if it's lame, I might not answer it."

He chuckled. "I just wanted to know why you were out here."

"You want an honest answer or one that makes you feel comfortable?"

"Honest."

You sighed and started to pick at the frayed edges of the hole in your jeans. It looked like you were debating on telling the truth. It wasn't as if you really owed him an honest answer. Bucky was a stranger, someone you only met because he was about to pass out. He offered you no information about himself, so why would you?

He was about to tell you to forget about it, but you started to talk and cut him off.

"My roommates are throwing a party, and they brought a lot booze. The smell was starting to get to me, and I knew I needed to get out before I relapsed," you confessed softly. "I know it sounds ridiculous given that I'm not that old, but I'm an alcoholic."

Bucky shook his head. "It's not ridiculous. And the fact that you could assess the situation and walk away means you're doing better than you probably think you are."

"I appreciate that, but it's not that impressive. I've only been sober for a few months, which my sponsor says is a good thing but sometimes it doesn't really feel like it." You ran your hands down your face and quickly gave yourself a little shake. He didn't say anything; he figured you were trying to push out all the bad thoughts. "Well. That was depressing! So, tell me, why are you out here?"

"Honest?" You nodded, and Bucky chuckled. It wasn't going to get cheerier from here. "I was running from my thoughts. Sometimes I think my brain is out to get me. Always making me feel lonelier than I should, which doesn't always seem fair. I have great friends and a supportive family, so why do I feel lonely? Why can I never go to bed feeling happy?"

Another silence fell between you two. His confession didn't seem to faze you. You respected the fact that he was as honest with you as you were with him, especially when he didn't have to be. He could have lied - told you some bullshit story about how his roommates were hooking up with each other, and he couldn't handle hearing it anymore. But he didn't. He told you his truth, and you liked that about him. You liked that you could trust him despite meeting him less than thirty minutes ago.

"Do you feel lonely right now?" You asked after a beat.

Bucky exhaled, a quick breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Now that I think about it, no. I don't."

You smiled over at him, a genuine smile that made his entire chest feel warm.. "Neither do I."

#cbc1kwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #college!bucky #college au #gender neutral reader

194 notes · View notes

writingpuddle · 5 years ago

Text

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Nicky asked, digging in his pack for a chocolate bar. To their left, the cliff dropped away precipitously, sheer granite cliffs like sentinels at the end of the world.

Neil stared at Nicky. “No,” he said.

“What, never?”

Neil looked out across the sweeping vista of mountains before them. A speck that could have been a hawk or a raven or a sparrow spun against the sky, too small and distant to judge. He’d stood in the middle of busy cities; he’d gone to school with hundreds; he’d even tried out for a track and field team once. He’d been surrounded by people, and he had been so ferociously lonely it had been like a knife in his chest.

“No,” he said, because he didn’t know how to explain—didn’t even want to, really. He’d felt more alone back in the so-called real world than he’d ever felt in the wilderness, miles from any other person. When there was no one around, there was no one to miss.

~~~The Long-Distance Hiker AU (A Bullet Point Fic)~~~

So after Neil’s mom died he kinda of ghosted around for a while and eventually ended up in a small hiking town in California

He met a bunch of thru hikers and figured, hey, my dad probably won’t find me if I’ve fucked off into the wilderness

So he starts hiking

And pretty soon he realizes it’s the best thing he could imagine

He spends all summer in the mountains and when winter rolls around he finds a temporary job in a skiing town working in a second hand gear shop

He’s an ultralighter in the most accidental sense possible

His gear is weird and cobbled together and his shoes are held together with dental floss

He sleeps under a tarp with a down blanket and a thin foam mat and he’ll eat the same shit day in day out without even registering it while he covers frankly obscene distances every single day

It basically gives Kevin an ulcer

Kevin’s an ultralighter, but in the stuck up, rich bitch way; his gear is probably worth thousands of dollars and he’ll lecture anyone who listens about ripstop nylon and is super snobby and elitist about who is a so-called “real” thru hiker (hint: anyone who doesn’t do it his way isn’t a real thru hiker)

(don’t worry he’ll get smacked around a little by people like Dan and stop being such a little bitch about it but he grew up rich so even though it might’ve been shit living with Riko he really doesn’t always take into consideration the context of how much fucking money gear costs when he’s preaching about ultralighting)

(yes I’m taking out my dislike for pretentious rich ultralighters on him, okay, but the difference is he’ll have character growth versus the people I met are probably still being preachy and self-important to this day)

Andrew’s like the exact opposite

His pack weighs like seventy pounds and he’ll pull a six-inch knife (a gross misuse of smart gear weight management) at anyone who comments

He has a completely contained single person tent that’s big enough to sit up in and a four-inch inflatable mattress

His sleeping bag is rated to like -20 even when he’s hiking in the summer

Nicky swears he once saw him pull a full-sized chocolate cake out of his backpack three days down the trail and everyone says that’s stupid and made up but secretly think its totally true

Andrew likes to hike alone but somehow he’s never more than a day away from Aaron and Nicky and when he keeps showing up near them it gets harder and harder to pretend like he doesn’t actually care about them

Nobody says anything, obviously, but Nicky gets a little teary when he starts to notice the pattern

It was Nicky’s idea; in this universe Erik got him into hiking when he was in Germany so he got the cousins into it as a bonding exercise and then it turned out it was the best family activity they had ever found

This is several years after they graduated and they’ve scrounged together enough time and money to hike the Pacific Crest Trail

Now the upperclassmen:

So Stephanie Walker is a trail angel: one of those people who lives near a long trail and provides snacks and rides and somewhere to stay and basically helps out anyone who comes by with whatever’s going on; she’s pulled a lot of people out of frankly dangerous situations and she’s not afraid of anything the trail has to offer

So Renee finds herself and her faith while living this life of meeting new hikers every day and it’s almost inevitable that she starts to hike and find solace in the wilderness

Allison is one of those Wild types: she’s done some hiking (much to her parents’ chagrin) but she’s never done a thru trail or even much overnighting before, but she’s ready to throw herself into it and doesn’t care how dirty she gets

She totally carries a tiny spa package though

The other women are very skeptical because they take pride in being free from societies expectations and make up and shaving but they come around after Allison pulls it out one time when they’re seven days into a ten day section and gives them face masks and they all have a little pedicure pampering session (so, so needed when your feet are being beaten and bruised by hard terrain all day)

She has a lot of new, expensive gear and is super touchy about people trying to help her (because a beautiful woman absolutely gets people trying to “help” all the time and it’s infuriating and condescending) but she learns to accept help from her closest friends

She was showing off near the beginning of the trail drinking with a bunch of guys and probably got too sloshed trying to act tough (alcohol hits you waaaay harder at high elevations dude, if you’re not expecting it you can get Fucked Up really fast)

It’s Seth who realizes things are getting out of control and pulls her out before the guys can do anything shitty which is how their friendship and eventually their relationship gets started

They piss everyone off with their constant breaking up and getting back together on the trail, sometimes hiking together for days and then splitting up and going to hike with other people but they find a lot of healing out there in the woods

Seth’s mom is totally dismissive and condescending of his hiking, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but she thinks everything he does is a stupid waste of time so at least when he’s out there without cell service he has an excuse to not respond to her

Now Dan

Dan’s trailer trash, right

She’s got no fucking cash but she has this dream in her head to hike the PCT and she’s going to fucking well do it

Her gear is probably most similar to Neil’s except where his is a mess of weird priorities and held together by spit and twine

Hers is meticulously planned

It’s cheap, some of it’s over forty years old, but it’s hers

It’s probably the only stuff in the world that’s actually hers

She accumulated it over about four years, hitting all the second-hand gear events, saving up every penny, packing and repacking and writing everything out in great detail until David Wymack got wind of her plans at a gear event

He’s one of those guys who hiked the PCT thirty years ago back before anyone knew what it was except instead of feeling superior about that it means he knows exactly how much impact experiencing the wilderness can have for disenfranchised people

He approaches Dan and offers to sponsor her hike

She’s resistant at first; she planned this hike, she got all the stuff together, she was going to do it without anyone’s help

But he comes back and says he just wants her to write about her experiences and publish it on his website

He’ll pay her for the work, of course

And she wavers and finally caves because this will move her plans up by about two years if she can make money while she’s hiking instead of having to hoard up enough cash to take six whole months off

Her blog posts are a huge hit

She doesn’t preach about how the mountains saved her, or get too metaphorical about hiking or anything like that

She just talks about the real, raw experience of hiking

The friendships, the trials, the triumphs

The infuriating people whose mental image of the hiking community doesn’t include poor black girls who grew up in a trailer park, who say she’s an inspiration like they actually mean something else

She talks about the days that she flies up the mountains and the days that she can barely drag herself out of her tent and the day she realizes that Allison and Renee, these women she thought could not be more different from her, are the best friends she’s ever had in the world

And she’s takes fucking amazing pictures

She’s also very determined not to have a trail romance

That’s stupid and cliché

Look that guy Matt might be hot but she’s not interested

He’s clearly working through some stuff and she’s not here to be some guys savior or whatever

So Matt then

His mom helped him get sober a couple years ago and he’s been struggling with it ever since

She got him into hiking as an outlet and a healthy hobby and he took to it like a fish to water

He’s got legs for days and he doesn’t mind carrying a heavy pack, he can hike for hours without stopping

(The fact that he’s faster than her pisses Dan off a bit, but sometimes you gotta accept that you’ve got short legs and just hike your own hike, there aren’t any prizes for speed)

He relapsed again a couple months before his hike started and he and Randy weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to do it but he’s damned well going to try

So anyway

Pretty much everyone is trying to actually hike the PCT except Neil

He drives everyone bonkers

His motivation isn’t really about the trail so much as staying out in the wilderness where there are no gangsters to murder you

So he just does whatever he wants and keeps showing up at random points

He’s technically got one of the thru hiker permits but he frequently goes off on side trails not on the PCT and ends up hiding out in the woods so rangers won’t find him

He’ll just hitchhike straight through boring sections or anywhere that you pass through too many towns where he’d rather not be remembered

He keeps coming back to the PCT but it’s more like it’s a rough guideline of where to go than an actual route he’s taking

He’s got his natural colouring back because who’s dying their hair or wearing fucking contacts on the trail?

But also

Who would ever associate a runaway mafia kid with a guy with overgrown hair and a stained t-shirt who’s sitting serenely on a mountain pass in a photo on David Wymack’s website?

Nobody

That’s right kids, Nathan doesn’t have a role in this one because he doesn’t find Neil

Maybe he gets killed in a shoot out or something and some other gangster steps up and takes over, and in the shuffle Neil’s just kinda forgotten

Maybe he finds out months later and he just stares at the computer in shock because he should have known, shouldn’t he? He should have felt it when his father died

He should have realized that he was free

That happens later though

Who fucking cares what Riko’s doing honestly

Kevin has somehow attached himself to Andrew and is driving him up the wall with advice to improve his hiking/base weight/distance/etc and he sees this guy (Neil) who regularly covers like thirty or forty miles a day (obscene!) and is like YES this guy is my people!

Except when he starts talking to Neil he realizes he’s this total weirdo who doesn’t even have a cook set he just eats cold food (a common enough thing among ultralighters, but not like this. Oh god, not like this)

Neil’s just sitting there gnawing on a pack of uncooked ramen like a fucking animal

And he’s not! Even! Hiking! Properly!

You’ll never finish the trail if you hike like this!

Neil just gives him a blank look

He’s got no interest on getting on some “verified” list of people who hiked the PCT, he just likes hiking

Andrew likes him

I mean obviously he despises him what the hell is with that janky ass setup but also he’s so unconventional and unapologetic how could Andrew not be into that?

They’re the kind of people who give wilderness rescue personnel grey hair, but for completely opposite reasons

Neil keeps running into them because even though he covers so much ground every day, his meandering route means he doesn’t actually move down the trail very fast

They’ll be like wait weren’t you like a week ahead of us and he’s like oh yeah I heard about this cool waterfall and took a sixty mile side trail to visit it and nearly ran into a momma bear with two cubs, it was awesome

And they all start to grow on him, and each other, almost accidentally

Look none of them are out there romanticizing the trail as some kind of magical place where the problems of the real world disappear and the people are somehow more pure and true or whatever

People are people and they bring their issues wherever they go

But there is a paring down

When your daily concerns are just mileage and shoes and food and weather, a lot of other stuff fades into the background

And well the truth is a lot of people are on those trails to work through stuff

And they find each other

Gradually, without even really noticing

They team up in June, groups of three or four with crampons and ice axes to get over the Sierra’s.

Neil was planning to just do side hikes and wait for the snow to melt—he isn’t so reckless he wants to go over the ice alone, but Kevin insists he join them and for the first time he hikes in a group with Kevin and the cousins all together.

It’s weird

He’s not used to people talking to him when he’s hiking and he frequently doesn’t respond and it’s not because he’s being rude he’s just so focussed on what he’s doing and what’s around him that he literally doesn’t hear them

And then

Nicky slips

It’s not his fault, they did nearly everything right (Kevin may be a pretentious ass, but he does know his shit) but sometimes shit just happens for no reason

And they’re at the edge of the ice sheet so Nicky’s just untying himself from the rope that links them together, he’s not even moving, and the snow beneath him shifts and he doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s hurtling down the snow below the trail towards the cliff at the bottom of the ice sheet

Neil doesn’t even hesitate

He dives after him, ice axe in one hand like a fucking gladiator and gets his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist

He slams the ice axe into the snow and it drags behind them, and it looks like it’s not going to catch, and the edge is getting closer and closer—

Until the axe catches something, and Nicky and Neil lurch to a halt, clinging to each other, hanging off of Neil’s one arm and the axe.

Neil looks up and sees Andrew, Aaron and Kevin in various places on the slope above them, their axes dug in and long gouge marks in the snow beneath their heels, strung together by a ropeline that’s still attached to Neil’s waist

That rope is probably the only thing that slowed them down enough that Neil could stop them without ripping his arm clean off

It’s hardly a by-the-book rescue, and in fact it was pretty stupid, but they’re okay, they’re okay, that’s all that matters

That night they light a fire down by a lake and Nicky cries on Aaron’s shoulder and Andrew keeps clenching his fists because he’s never felt so helpless in his life and it was Neil that jumped, not him

He knows that he was at the far end of the line and he would’ve made it worse if he had, but doing nothing while Neil risked his life to save Nicky

They don’t really talk about it

But you kind of can’t help being friends after that

And even after they’re out of the high mountains and back on solid trails Neil keeps tabs on them

And Nicky befriends the others and without even meaning to they start to develop a sort of loose trail family vibe

They’re not hiking together all the time like some of the groups they meet, but they check on each other all the time and wait up in resupply villages and bond over firepits and shitty hot chocolate mixes and swap tips on how to keep the butt-chafing at bay

Neil sticks to the outskirts, mostly, but he starts to open up a little, in fits and spurts, tiny non-specific things that wouldn’t even register to most people but that this particular group knows means more than that

He’s slowing down, too, sometimes hiking entire days with people and covering half his usual distance even when there’s no cliffs or glaciers threatening him

He likes hiking with Andrew the most, though

Because neither of them are big talkers when they’re hiking and Andrew’s pack might be absurdly heavy but he’s got legs the size of tree trunks and endurance to match, so he might not be fast but he can outwalk half the people on the trail by sheer relentlessness

They both like to camp up high, near treeline (so Neil can set up his tarp) and in the places that it’s legal they’ll start a small fire and Andrew will loan Neil his pot so he can actually cook his fucking ramen for once and sometimes they’ll watch the Milky Way rise and share secrets under the open sky, not looking at each other so they don’t break the illusion, and sometimes they won’t say anything at all but it’s okay, because they’re saying nothing together.

It’s nice

It’s maybe more than nice

The summer draws to a close and Neil is starting to realize that he doesn’t want it to

He never wants the hiking season to end but this time it’s different

This summer has been perfect

And he knows deep in his bones that once they leave the trail things will change

The others have lives to return to, and Neil…

The trail is all he has

And if he’s barely hiking alone at all these days, well, who’s going to call him out on it?

The others like having him around because he stops them from getting too fixated on the Trail to see the trail

He still takes side trips but now sometimes people will come along and he’ll stand at the base of a canyon staring up at the glossy white walls and Dan will snap a photo for her blog and smile, because the PCT is just a line on a map, but the hike is all of them; together

He’s hiking with Andrew in September when a storm hits, this time vicious

Neil huddles under his tarp in resignation

Storms suck, he always gets wet, no matter how much he lowers the tarp, but he’s used to it; he just waits it out

But it’s just getting worse

Hail lashing at the tarp and pummelling the ground and maybe for once he regrets camping so high up

And Andrew has to shout to be heard but finally Neil realizes he’s offering to let Neil come into his tent

You’re going fucking freeze, just get in here

Neil goes

It’s weird

It’s instantly weird

The tent is not built for two people, so they’re both sitting cross legged with their heads ducked to not press against the roof

The storms probably not going to let up soon, Andrew says

Yeah, Neil says.

Andrew sighs

Lie down, he says, and Neil does, and Andrew lies down next to him, shoulder to shoulder

It barely works, only because neither of them are very big people

Neil’s pack is outside wrapped in his tarp and all he has is his damp down blanket but he’s not cold anymore, not with Andrew bundled up in his ridiculous sleeping bag right next to him

The storm rages for nearly two days and what passes between them in that tent, nobody knows

If they’re barely ever seen apart after it, well. You only see people so often on the trail. It could easily be a coincidence

And if Neil doesn’t even set his tarp up on rainy nights anymore, well. They never camp near other people anyway, so who’s to know?

In early October the snow blows in, blocking the route to the finish.

They drift around a resupply village for almost two weeks, waiting for the trail to reopen, but finally even Kevin accepts that it isn’t going to

After all of that, none of them are going to finish the trail

It’s a disappointment—of course it is. For most of them, the end of their trip is now a nondescript exit into a village, no fanfare, no closure; they didn’t even know they were done for days

Still, it’s not so bad

They’re all together

Allison suggests Vegas, but they all laugh it down; they wouldn’t even know how right now, bearded and hairy and ravenous as they are

They go to South Carolina instead

It’s not really even discussed that they’ll stay together, they just all go; Allison hosts them at her resort and they laugh at the incongruous weirdness of seeing each other in real clothes, and it’s different, but it’s also okay

They stay for another two weeks, and they don’t hike another fucking inch

We should try the Continental Divide Trail sometime, Dan says

Her blog is so popular now that she’s got sponsorships from more than just Wymack waiting for her

She could make a career out of hiking and blogging and doing gear reviews and it’s a dream she’d never even realized she wanted until she had it

And if she accidentally fucked up and ended up with a hot trail boyfriend? Well, nobody’s perfect

And he has a great butt

(she has photos of it on her blog, from when they jumped into a glacier lake naked back in August)

Everyone is jealous

How about that trek in Iceland? Matt suggests

Or the whats-it-called in New Zealand, Allison says

Oh, I bet there’s some good ones in Europe! Nicky says. You guys can all meet Erik!

And it’s going to be different, but it’s not going away, and Neil feels calm in a way he never has at the end of a hiking season before

Eventually everyone has to start making plans to return to their lives, and jobs, and Neil sneaks out to the back of the house to sit in crisp fall air and watch leaves spiral down out of the trees

Andrew follows him

They sit together, watching the moon rise over the hills, and when Andrew asks Neil to come home, Neil says yes

#me? coping with my inability to go hiking by writing headcanons? its more likely than you think!#aftg headcanons #aftg au #andreil #bulletpoint fic #my writing #hiker au #gratuitous descriptions of hiker life #found family #this is like 3.5k idk man #this is very self indulgent lol

177 notes · View notes

kreekey · 4 years ago

Note

examples of people being racist toward yoko unintentionally: 1- calling her a weird stalker when they glorify/don't mind the many white fangirls who used to stalk the Beatles. 2- spreading misinformation that she lost custody of her daughter when in fact she'd won against her white crazy ex despite everything NOT in favour of her 3- bashing her for using John's glasses on the album cover she worked with John on, when they would've praised the artistry and bold statement if she was a white woman

Hey sorry I got around to answering your ask so late! You make a lot of really interesting points and I rarely hear people consider that.

1 - reminds me of a Tumblr post I saw about an obsessive Beatlemaniac stalker and people were like “me” or “bless her” haha. Definitely different when they can interpret Yoko’s actions as “stalking”. And your point also reminds me of this quote, which isn’t about fangirls but still somewhat kinda related.

“Like Yoko when she met John, Linda was a divorced woman with a daughter when she met Paul mere months later. There are stories similar to those about Yoko of her “scheming” to meet and marry Paul. In the same way that Yoko is said to have joked prior to meeting him that she was “going to marry John Lennon,” Linda joked like any woman with a celebrity crush about how she was “going to marry Paul McCartney.” (Bob Spitz notes both in his book The Beatles. Guess which one he thought was conniving, and which one he thought was adorable.)... Was it the lucky fact that Linda got the scene a few months later than Yoko, or was it her whiteness?“

And I don’t have the answer if it was Yoko’s race that made her such a target, but it’s something interesting to consider and note. [And I’ll clarify this, I'm pretty sure Yoko didn't know about the Beatles until she became face to face with one, like she wasn't a fan who got lucky enough to meet her idol. In the David Frost interview and the 1971 Rolling Stone interview, John noted that Yoko didn't know him when they met, and Yoko Ono: Collector of Skies by Neil Beram says this on their meeting: "She was about as familiar with John's work as he was with hers. "I was an underground person, and such an artistic snob," she said later. "I knew about The Beatles, of course... but I wasn't interested in them." Just about the only thing she could recall about them was the drummer Ringo Starr's first name, because ringo means "apple" in Japanese.”] Also, and this definitely wasn’t stalking, but I posted a quote from Bob Spitz’ biography where he writes along the lines of

“[Linda] always insisted that she was going to marry Paul McCartney,” [Nat Weiss] recalls, “even before she met him”... It was no accident that Linda Eastman veered into his aura. She’d taken a few polite shots of Ringo and George before “zeroing in on Paul,”... Linda had come dressed to kill. Most days she played the typical rock chick, decked out in rumpled jeans and a T-shirt, with little or no makeup and unwashed hair. But today her hair had been carefully blow-dried so that it fell perfectly forward in wing points at her chin. And she was dressed in an expensive double-breasted striped barbershop jacket arranged just so over a sheer black sweater, with a miniskirt that flattered her gorgeous legs. When she squatted down – not so subtly, in what must have been a rehearsed gesture – in front of Paul for an intimate chat, he had trouble keeping his eyes from wandering below-decks...

, and some people commented that it appeared kinda predatory/pre-planned (reminds me of some criticism of Francie Schwartz’s meeting with Paul), but overall cute and everything. At the time I wondered how people would react if Yoko did that to John lol. No way of knowing, just a thought. And also, I know Yoko sent him Grapefruit and little instructions often, I think that’s usually what people cite as the stalking, that she tried to ensnare him with it. Again quoting Yoko Ono: Collector of Skies,

For a time Yoko kept in touch with John by mailing him daily instructions-she called this Dance Event-that said things like "Dance" and "Watch all the lights until dawn" and "I'm a cloud. Watch for me in the sky." John found the instructions as perplexing as he found them intriguing.

And quoting this interview (in which she also asserts that “each and every occasion she visited John at Kenwood, it was at his invitation.”),

Despite the popular theory that Yoko was frantically inventing schemes to snare the wealthy Beatle, she was struggling with problems in her marriage [with Tony Cox] and also working hard to establish her career in the UK. Arriving in London in September 1966 to perform at the ‘Destruction In Art Symposium’, Yoko was already respected as an avant-garde artist and performer in New York, where she was allied to the Fluxus movement. She had a trained musical background, and had recently been involved in the improvisational music favoured by her peer group. She had also compiled a book of conceptual and instructional pieces called Grapefruit, and printed up a limited edition.

Yoko distributed copies to a number of influential people during 1966-’67. And John Lennon was one of the recipients. This has since been interpreted as one of various ruses on Yoko’s part to enchant Lennon.

She retorts: “There was a myth that I sent Grapefruit to him… how I wanted to trap him. It was a printed, published book. I had an orange carton of them, a lot of it. I would be giving it to critics. It was that sort of thing. He wasn’t the only one who got it.”

And by then, John had already eagerly offered to sponsor one of her shows, I think he was genuinely interested in her work. I don’t think John was actually threatened by these notes or felt he was harassed, especially since he made the jump to invite her over while his wife was away (and Yoko just thought it was a party!). He once referred to Yoko “someone that could turn me on to a million things” in the Lennon Remembers interview, he admired her art. And I know he said to Cyn that the letters were just junk from another one of those weird artists, but c’mon, what do you think John would say to his wife regarding the woman he’s romantically interested in? I don’t think it would’ve been fully truthful IMO, especially considering when John said that he nearly invited Yoko to India around that time because he liked her so.

2 is very true. Tony himself tried to make it seem like Yoko and John were crazy heroin druggies, and that's the case he tried to make (and that’s what he tried to tell Kyoko, that he was “saving” her from drug obsessed occultists). But, Yoko had gone “cold turkey” (ala the song) off heroin in 1969. This was 2 years before she won full custody in 1971.

Although neither parent had been awarded sole custody of the child, Mr. Cox became increasingly reluctant to let Yoko and her new husband spend time with Kyoko, and finally refused to permit it at all. For a year before the Lennons came to America, they had been chasing Mr. Cox and Kyoko around Europe. In Majorca, Spain, the Lennons caught up with them and spirited Kyoko off to their hotel; but Mr. Cox called the police, and a Spanish court gave the child back to him. The incident added to his fear that the Lennons wanted to take her away from him for good.

Soon after the Lennons arrived in New York, they went to the United States Virgin Islands, to the same court where Yoko had been divorced, and that court awarded her permanent custody of her daughter.

But, Tony then took Kyoko to Texas (hiding/kidnapping her) which was in violation of that court order. Then more custody battle due to Tony’s stubbornness and evasiveness, but yes, Yoko did win custody then despite everything (even though John was very threatened by Tony lol, to the point he disallowed Yoko to visit him alone in order to discuss co-parenting when that was an option and suggested kidnapping Kyoko. But then again Tony was also kinda crazy. Seriously though IMO Yoko really tried gallantly to have Kyoko in her life, and the loss hurt her. To hear people try to spin it as Yoko being the monster in the situation through misinformation is unfortunate.)

3 is hypothetical, but I do speculate that if Yoko was white, the attitude toward her would’ve been different. Sean said, “It’s intense how racist the world is. If my mother had looked like Debbie Harry, I really think the reaction would have been different.” (X) Yoko’s former partner, Sam Havadtoy, also touched on this in an interview from 1990:

Q: ...No matter what Yoko does, she’s frequently the victim of a bad press. Any idea why?

Havadtoy: After John’s death, newspapers wrote that Yoko was this selfish person hoarding John’s memory, controlling it, not willing to share it with his fans. So after two years, she puts out 200 hours of film footage and a record and they say she’s exploiting John’s memory. She can’t win.

Q: Why not?

Havadtoy: Racism. If she were blond-haired and blue-eyed, nobody would have blamed her for breaking up the Beatles. They were the darlings of the universe; she was an outsider, an Oriental, an avant-garde artist--easy to pick on. When John married Yoko, the British press wrote: “At least he will have clean laundry.” And it’s still happening. America is infatuated with Japan-bashing.

And I do think Season Of Glass was a memory thing, I posted about it here: X.

And yes, I think that much of Yoko’s criticism/legacy was rooted in that initial reaction, which was pretty sexist and racist. But I think that influence can still be felt today, in ways that aren’t obvious. And like you said, unintentional. (Before anyone gets mad, if you dislike or hate Yoko that doesn't automatically make you racist lol. But the narrative built around her might’ve influenced your opinion of her, and the narrative was kinda rooted in a racist mentality. So that’s why and re-interpreting her in a fresh light is necessary).

#sorry I know i've said something like that last paragraph many times but just to clarify y'know #yoko ono #the beatles fandom #asks #answers #long post #it got longer than i expected sorry!!#also anon sorry i left your ask unanswered so long!! hope you see this <3 #retrospective

40 notes · View notes