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possiamo-andare · 5 years ago

Text

Midsummer: JJ Maybank

JJ x Reader

word count: around 6k

MASTERLIST

a/n: took a long time writing this and I've never done anything like this (where its y/n) so any feedback would be greatly appreciated <3

You had never technically been to the Midsummer festival. Of course, since you were a Kook, your parents were invited and tried to make you go but every year came a new excuse. First, you had the "stomach flu." Then, there was that time you said you had "strep throat." Another time, you had a "fever." You had so many excuses for not going to Midsummer every year, you had become a pro at lying.

Only this time, you had an actual reason not to go and, out of all the times, your parents didn't believe you.

You had told them the truth. You and Rafe had just gotten into a huge argument and had technically broken up. It wasn't official or anything but you both knew it was the end. You wanted to stay home and binge watch 'New Girl' from the beginning and maybe order some food. You just wanted to indulge yourself for a moment. You had lost 170 pounds (aka Rafe) and you kinda wanted to celebrate.

Rafe loved keeping up appearances and you were just another way to do that. You were the "perfect" girl next door. You surfed, played soccer during the school year, and it helped that your parents were loaded. You and Rafe looked like a great couple on the outside, but the reality was you were both broken in one way or another. You were struggling with your mundane life, finding every day one endless loop. You were desperate to break free but didn't know how. Rafe was struggling with addiction and wouldn't admit to you that he had a problem.

Finally, you were at your breaking point. This morning, while you still had the courage, you started to talk to Rafe about getting help. You had kept this secret for him for too long and keeping it any longer wouldn't help anyone. Rafe, as you expected, flew off the handle and said the most horrible stuff. He called you a bitch, a slut, and basically every thing that could hurt a person. And you took it because that's what you always did. Then he said something that you couldn't forgive.

You're gonna die alone.

All of those words before never hurt as much as this one. You think it hurts the most because there's a possibility that it's true. You have never had an honest conversation with anyone in your life, including Rafe. You let people in, but not all the way. You were scared to get hurt, but even more scared to die alone. Rafe knew that.

So, you told him you're done and then left. No, you're here, talking to your parents and telling them you couldn't go because you had broken up with Rafe.

"I just don't understand what happened. Rafe is such a nice young man." Your mother said, going through her jewelry box to find the right earrings to match the dress that was laying across her bed.

The Midsummer party was not to start until the sun set in about three hours but your mom loved getting ready early and this party was no exception.

"I just don't want to go. Rafe is escorting me and I don't wanna put on a smile and pretend like everything's okay when it's not."

You didn't understand your mother sometimes. She was fine with letting you stay home from the party for years now as long as there was a physical reason like a cold. Now that you're telling her it's a mental reason, she could care less. You watched her by the frame of her bedroom door. She continued to look in her jewelry box and not for one second check on you.

"It's just for tonight sweetie." She smiled, but not at you.

At first you thought it was directed at you even though she wasn't looking at you. Then you realized she had found the matching earrings and that's why she was smiling. She held them up to her ears and looked in the mirror for a second.

You wondered if she remembered she had a daughter. It felt like she didn't remember sometimes.

You couldn't change her mind. You knew this now. She was picking out her jewelry and accessories now and the room for anything other than the talk of jewelry and makeup was not interesting to her. You decided to cave, not wanting to plead your case again.

So, you returned to your room and called the only person that ever listened to you. Your best friend, Sarah Cameron. She had recently met a Pogue named John B. and also didn't want to go to the Midsummer party where Topper, her soon-to-be ex boyfriend, was escorting her. She had planned to break up with Topper to be with John B. but hadn't gotten the chance yet. Although she wanted to end things with Topper, she didn't want to cause any drama and breaking up with him at the Midsummer party was definitely not a good way to avoid drama.

Sarah understood. She always did.

"Hey girlie." Sarah chimed as she answered the phone.

You instantly smiled, sitting down on your bed. "Hey."

You could basically hear the frown in Sarah's voice as she spoke. "What's wrong? Did Rafe text you?"

You hummed a no. Just hearing Sarah's voice made you feel better. "I tried to tell my mom I don't feel like going but she refuses to listen."

Sarah sighed. "I'm sorry Y/N. I'll look after you tonight. Make sure Rafe doesn't talk to you. He'll escort you to the party and then that's all you'll see from him. I promise."

You chuckled. "And who is gonna make sure Topper stays away from you as you go meet up with your new boyfriend?"

"Ah, my friend," Sarah chides. "That's where you come in. We'll help each other out tonight."

You laugh, the plan sounding ridiculous but it made enough sense to actually work. "Okay, I'll see you then."

"See you there sister." sang Sarah, hanging up the phone soon after.

After you put your phone down to charge, you decided to take a shower and start getting ready for the Midsummer party. You showered quickly, scrubbing your hair so that it wouldn't smell, as your mother says, "like the sea."

After you got out, you washed you face with a cleanser and towel dried your hair. You then brushed your teeth for the second time today and popped in a mint. You put your hair up in a bun while it was still wet so it could dry on it's own. That's when you picked out your dress. Your mom had bought it for you a week ago and it had been collecting dust in your closet ever since. You laid it out on your bed and finally got a proper look at it.

It was a yellow, spaghetti strap dress that fell to your ankles. It was made out of silk and shined even with your bedroom light. When you had tried it on, your remembered how tight it was on the bodice and how it dainty it looked on you. You did like it and it made you feel like a princess, you just wished you didn't have to wear it for the Midsummer party.

You started your makeup first. You applied a tinted moisturizer to give yourself a natural glow and then applied some concealer to lighten your under eyes. Once ever was evenly applied, you filled in your brows and brushed them back and applied some mascara. You added blush and some highlighter to give you a brighter glow. You finally finished off the look with a nude lip.

You let your hair down and it was stil damp. In an attempt to get your hair to dry faster, you got a blow dryer and dried the rest of your hair. Once it was all dry, you brushed it through once and let it stay down. It had turned out nice, the natural curls in your hair giving you the volume you needed. Why change something that already looked so good.

With your makeup and hair done, you finally got changed into your dress. Once it was own, you gave yourself a proper look in the mirror.

You did look beautiful. You had to admit, when you put effort in, you cleaned up well. Although you liked how you turned out, your heart still hurt. Not because of Rafe, but because you can't imagine doing this every year for the rest of your life. Your parents were always okay with doing the same things everyday. You weren't. You wanted to go out on adventures and experience all life had to offer. You wanted to travel by yourself. You wanted to have something different to do everyday. This mundane life you saw your parents do was not for you but you were scared if you lived any more days like this, it was going to be your future. That's what scared you the most. Not being able to get out of the bubble your parents and your life as a Kook put you in. It's one of the reasons you envied the Pogues. Sure they might not have as much money but they had adventures and didn't lead a mundane life. Everyday was different. You sometimes wished you were a Pogue.

You slipped on your heels and looked into the mirror one last time. You looked good but still couldn't smile fully. You didn't hate how you looked, you hated the person looking back.

You didn't know if that ever would change.

Sarah always looked beautiful and you hated it. Even on days when she woke up, hung over with bed head, she just had to smile and she'd look beautiful.

When you entered Sarah's house, she was waiting for you in her bedroom. Her dad, Ward, told you where she was and you basically rushed upstairs. You hadn't seen her in two days since before she went on an adventure with John B. and you needed to know all the juicy details.

Now, as you looked at her in that perfect white dress, you didn't feel self conscious, but you certainly felt like you had to change.

"Holy hell." Sarah said as she stood up from her bed. "You look so sexy."

You rushed to her and hugged her for a moment before saying anything. "I look sexy? Look at you. You look like an angel."

Sarah laughed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. "How are you doing?"

You shrugged. There wasn't much to say. You weren't really torn up over the situation. "I'm fine. We both knew it was coming."

Sarah laughed. "You should've seen my brother. He was totally freaking out when he called Topper."

You frowned. "Sorry. I know he's your brother."

Sarah waved her hands in the hair. "Are you kidding me? Someone needed to knock Rafe down a few pegs. I'm glad you guys are done. He doesn't deserve you."

You hugged Sarah again. She really was the most important person in your life right now. You didn't know how you got so lucky.

"Speaking of which, are Topper and Rafe here?"

Sarah sighed and nodded. "Waiting for us downstairs to escort us to the Midsummer party."

You rolled my eyes, grabbing onto Sarah's hand again. "Ugh. We can't just keep them waiting."

Sarah smirked, playing along with your sarcasm. "God forbid."

As you guys made your way downstairs, you talked. You knew you couldn't ask her all the details right now but you made sure to let her know that once you were alone, you'd pressure her to tell you all the information. You had seen John B. and his friends around OBX but had rarely talked. The only time you ever encountered each other was when you and Sarah slept on the boat overnight and John B. had come in the early morning to drop off the scuba gear. They seemed to not get along at all so you still wonder what changed.

"Just one question?" You pleaded as you and Sarah made your way to the sliding glass doors, leading you to the backyard where the party was taking place. The sun was setting now and the party would be starting any minute.

"Fine, shoot." Sarah nodded, whispering to you now since Topper and Rafe could see you and Sarah now.

"Is he a good kisser or not?" You leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"What are you beautiful ladies whispering about?" Topper asks as he approaches you and Sarah. You instantly pull away, acting very suspicious.

"How to please a woman. Not that you would know." You smirk at Topper, being very mean. For good reason though. He had made Sarah feel very bad about not sleeping with him and you were glad she had moved on. Now, hopefully Topper would too.

Topper rolled his eyes. "Hello Y/N. How are you?" You know he's only being so nice to try and impress Sarah and show her he's changed. Of course Sarah doesn't buy it.

"I'm spectacular." You gave Topper a wide smile. Maybe if you stared at him long enough, his head would explode.

"Good." Topper grumbled, looking at Sarah. "You look amazing."

Sarah frowned. "Yeah, thanks." She seemed so unenthusiastic it was almost funny.

Topper extended out his hand, ready for Sarah to take it. Sarah looked at you and tried to smile but you could see her discontent. Sarah unwilllingly reached for it and smiled again at Topper.

Here's the thing; if you have to smile so much at everyone all the time, you're probably not happy.

Just as Sarah and Topper move away, Sarah stops, tells Topper to wait one moment and turns around to you. She smiles, for real this time, and says, "To answer your question; yeah, really well."

You giggle, trying to make sure Topper does not ask too many questions. That smile that you had, though, is now replaced with a frown.

You can see him lurking near the door, finding the courage to come up to me.

God, I wished he would just leave me alone, you thought.

You decide against confronting him and instead walk to Sarah's kitchen to grab some water. The doors to Sarah's backyard can be seen if you stood in Sarah's kitchen so you can see Sarah walk out with Topper, smiling and waving. People who don't know Sarah well won't know the difference but you do. Her shoulders are slightly droopy and her smile is not as wide as it usually is.

You watch her quickly depart from Topper soon after he's escorted her around and you can see Topper stay behind, a little shocked she's gone. You don't know why he is, but that's the thing with guys like him. They never think they're the problem.

Speaking of problems, Rafe has followed you into the kitchen and is just standing there. You pretend not to see him. Maybe if you ignore him, you thought, he'll take the hint and walk away.

Of course, he doesn't and as you try to walk past him, he stops you from leaving the kitchen. He's standing in front of you. So, you move to the right and he follows, blocking you again.

"Can we talk?" He asks, reaching out for your hand.

You move my hand out of the way. "Don't touch me."

"Y/N..." He's looking at you with those puppy dog eyes and granted it would've worked at one point but not anymore.

"No." You say sternly. "This is what's gonna hapen: you're gonna escort me out and after that we'll never talk again."

Rafe frowns even harder. "I don't want that. I said things I shouldn't have but -"

"No." You cut him off. "There's no more excuses. We're done."

Rafe's brows crease together. You can tell he's pissed now. "No. You're not giving up on us."

You scoffed, his confidence misplaced. "Trust me, you gave up a long time ago." You then grab onto his elbow, surprising him a little. You could tell he was confused and so you rolled your eyes and then spoke again, "you're escorting me."

Rafe's eyes widened and quickly nodded, guiding you to the glass doors. As you walked, you felt a weight lifted. It had been a long time for you to admit this but you wer glad you guys were over. Your relationship was not aware near perfect and very toxic. The weight lifting, you realized, was definitely Rafe's link to your life.

As the doors opened, you put on a smile and stared waving. You looked around and smiled at your family and friends but you were looking for Sarah. You saw your mother, who was clapping and had a proud smile on her lips. She gave you a thumbs up but you looked away. Could she seriously be any more annoying?

Finally, you spotted Sarah near table. She was looking at you and clapping. You could tell from her facial features that she was being sarcastic. You stuck your tongue out quickly as you walked and waved and she quickly flipped you off.

Once you were done, Rafe let go of you. You turned to him and gave him a half smile.

He did not smile back. "I'm sorry."

Your smile dropped. "Are you?"

And with that, you walked away. Once you got to Sarah's table, she was already standing you give you a hug. You hugged her tightly, sighing as you did. It was finally over. You never had to speak to him again.

"How are you feeling?" Sarah asks, the boh of you sitting down at the table beside each other.

You shrugged. "Surprisingly, I'm good."

Sarah smiled. "It's cause you know it's for the best."

You nodded. You hoped so. "You want a drink?"

Sarah nodded. "Thanks so much."

You got up and went to find a waiter. There were so many around you but each one was speaking to someone and you didn't want to bother them. It took a little of a walk but you finally saw a blond boy in a waiter's suit, standing there. He seemed to be doing nothing so you approached him.

"Excuse me." You said politely, causing the blond boy to turn around. You knew who it was.

JJ Maybank. A Pogue. Specifically, one of John B.'s friends. More specifically, the guy who pulled a gun out on Topper. You were there and saw it all. He had never liked him. Although you hated Topper as much as the next sane person, he didn't deserve that.

JJ looked at you, up and down. He then smirked and crossed his arms over his shoulders. "Yes princess?"

You scoffed. "Not happening. I need a ginger ale and Sprite."

JJ scoffed back, imitating you. "A 'please sir' would help. Or do you Kooks not know how to say please?"

You glared at him. "I know how to say please to people who deserve it."

"And I don't?" JJ asked, bemused.

"No." You said coldly.

"You don't even know me."

"I know the type." You retorted.

JJ grabbed ahold of his chest, faking being wounded. "Wow, that stings Y/N."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the fact he knew your name. "You don't need me to explain it to you?"

JJ nodded, a smirk adorning his lips. "I really do, miss."

So you did. "I've heard stories about you JJ. You pulled a gun out on Topper, use girls left and right, and get into trouble with the law for fun. Trust me, I don't wanna get to know you."

JJ frowned, maybe for real this time. "Ever heard of don't judge a book by the Kook's stories?"

You tried to suppress a laugh. "Just get me those drinks."

JJ nodded at you and then you turned away and made your way back to Sarah. To be honest, he wasn't anything like Rafe had said. Yes, you had been there the night he pulled the gun but he was completely different now. He had a personality. He was more than a meathead Pogue like Rafe had said. Maybe you should stop listening to what Rafe and try to decide for yourself who JJ was.

When you returned to you table beside Sarah, the drinks where already there. You were confused. How did he get there before you?

"Took you long enough." Sarah joked as she sipped on her drink.

"Sorry." You sat down, confused. You looked at your drink, then at Sarah. "Who brought them here?"

She shrugged. "Some girl. She said that you had told her to hurry up. What did you say?"

You looked around for JJ. Finally, when your eyes found him, he was already looking at you. He smiled and gave you a small wave before walking away.

You smiled. You wanted to tell Sarah what happened and why JJ had made such an impression on you but you didn't get a chance.

Suddenly music came from the dance floor that had been decorated for this party. You looked to the dance floor were people had stared dancing and then you looked back to Sarah.

"Can for a dance?" You extended you hand out to her.

Sarah smirked. "Of course."

And so, as the sky turned to dark, you two danced.

You had been consecutively dancing for about an hour and your feet ached. You were wearing heels and although you were skilled in the art of wearing heels, you were completely overwhelmed by the aching. You had to stop.

You looked to Sarah, who was holding onto both of your hands as she swayed to the music. You smirked at her. She was a terrible dancer but her confidence made her seem like the best dancer ever.

Once you stopped moving in the middle of the song, Sarah noticed almost instantly and stopped along with you. She looked at you face and instantly knew.

She frowned. "Just until the end of this song."

You sighed, easily swayed when the music was so good. You nodded, swaying to the music again. Sarah picked up where she left off and you both smiled again. The song seemed to be in the middle so you only had to wait a few minutes. You trudged along, the soles of your feet aching so badly you chewed on the inside of your cheek to distract yourself.

"Hey, if you need to stop me can -" Sarah was about to stop but she was cut off by a tap on her shoulder.

A blond boy you now knew as JJ, danced beside Sarah. "Val?"

You frowned. Maybe he thought she was someone else and you thought that was true when you saw Sarah's face, who was confused for a moment.

"JJ?" She questioned and your eyes widened.

"What do you want?" You ask defensively. You wanted to keep up the impression you were still cautious around him.

JJ looks to you and perks up a little. You do the opposite. The other side of his face is badly bruised. You hadn't seen it before because of the darkness before, but now it was all you could see. It looks like he got punched over and over again. You suspected he probably got into another stupid fight. You almost felt sorry for him. The only way to boost his ego was for him to punch someone.

"Well, hello m'lady." He said, bowing.

You took a step back, bemused. As he bowed, he extended his hand for you to take. To indulge him, you grabbed it and he then stood up straight and pulled you close. One had rested, surprisingly, respectfully on your back and the other intertwined with your hand. You looked to Sarah, who was laughing. Your hand rested on his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughter.

"Madam, who you be so kind to get a note for Sarah out of my pocket for me?" JJ asked, swaying with you to the music.

You pulled away only enough to look at him the eyes. "Can't you do that yourself?"

He smirked. "Yes but I'd have to take my hand off your back and I don't wanna do that."

You rolled your eyes, swaying with him. Although he was a tad annoying, it was a comforting type of annoying. Your past presumptions of him yelled to you in your head about the gun and the fights but you quieted them. For this moment, he was being nice and you would look the other way. Maybe you had been wrong.

You nodded to him and reached to the back pocket on his pants and pulled out a note, handing it to Sarah.

Your hand soon returned to his shoulder as he smiled. "Thanks."

"Were you flexing your ass?" You laughed, shaking your head. You were embarrassed. Never had you done that but you couldn't help but laugh. JJ was one weird guy.

"Trying to impress you." He smirked, making you laugh. He then looked to Sarah and nodded at her. She was blushing so hard, and you were about to ask her what happened but she was already running off.

You looked to JJ. "What's going on?"

JJ leaned towards your ear as you swayed. You felt his lips touch your ear and you shivered. "She's meeting JB."

You smiled at JJ as he looked back at you. "I see. Star crossed lovers."

JJ shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't see the appeal of macking with a Kook but now," JJ says, looking you up and down. "I see the appeal."

You gasped and laughed, embarrassed again. "I'll slap you, I swear."

JJ smirked. "Please do."

You rolled you eyes. The next song had already started but you continued to dance. Your feet hurt no longer. "And why shouldn't I just smack you right now?"

JJ smirked. "Because I'm about to dip you and if you slapped me, I would drop you."

You shrugged. "Good enough."

And with that, he dipped you. You leaned your head back as he did and you felt the pressure of his hands on your back. You felt so secure. You knew he'd never drop you.

Once you came back up and looked at him again, you spoke. "I'm sorry for earlier."

JJ smiled. "Are you kidding? Probably the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me."

You rolled your eyes. "Really?"

JJ shrugged, continuing to sway. You had never felt like this. It felt as if you and JJ were the only two people on his dance floor. Not even with Rafe. This feeling was new and you didn't think you'd feel it with JJ. Someone who, before today, you never would've wanted to spend time with.

"So," he started as you continued to dance. "Have I impressed you?"

Before you could answer, you were pulled apart by two hands you recognized immediately. It was Rafe. Topper was right behind him, ready to fight. But this fight wasn't fair. It was two against one. How would JJ ever stand a chance?

"Rafe -" You started but Rafe silenced you by speaking over you to JJ.

"What're you doing dancing with my girlfriend?"

"Actually ex girlfriend." You corrected, standing between Rafe and JJ. "You have no right -"

"No right?" Rafe scoffed, his glance shifting to me now. "Until three hours ago I was your boyfriend and now you're grinding against this Pogue?"

You glare at Rafe. "Get away from me."

"Oh, I will." Rafe gritted through his teeth. As he spoke, his arm went around you and he tried to grab onto JJ's collar. JJ was quicker though and dodged his grasp.

"Run!" You yelled, turning around and pushing JJ our of the way.

JJ was fast. You were in heels so you weren't exactly the fastest person at this party but even as you ran, JJ was miles ahead of you. He looked back for a second, to see where you were and stopped to wait. You were surprised.

"C'mon." He said, grabbing onto your hand as you both ran into a closet and hid.

You heard Rafe and his goons tun down the same hallway you had just run down and they missed you completely. They were such idiots that they didn't even check the closet.

As you both caught your breath in the closet, you couldn't help but smile like an idiot. You had never felt so alive and you still couldn't believe you felt like this with JJ. He was the last person you ever thought could make you feel like this.

Soon, your dumb smile made JJ smile like an idiot and soon you both were smiling at each other. No longer did you guys have to catch your breath but you both still were breathing heavily. You were chest to chest and you were sure JJ could feel your heartbeat pick up.

He looked to your lips. "Why're you smiling?"

You shrugged. "Never done this."

JJ raised his brows. "What? You never ran from your ex with a boy you just met and ended up in a closet?"

You covered your mouth as you laughed. "You have?"

JJ shrugged, obviously joking. "Yeah, like five times."

You nodded, suppressing your smile. You were afraid if you smiled too much, your happiness would be taken away too quickly. You didn't want this to end. "With your rap sheet, I believe you."

JJ gasped, grabbing his chest again and falling an injury. "Another shot. I'm starting to think you're jealous."

You scoffed. "Jealous? No."

JJ raised his brows. "No?" His hand reached up from his sides and came to the hair in front of your face. He brushed it to the side and tucked it behind your ear. "Never thought about kissing me?"

Your smile was gone and replaced with butterflies. "Nope."

"I'm hurt." JJ confessed, fake frowning.

You smirked. "Why?"

"Because," JJ whispered, leaning forward. "I've thought about kissing you ever since you spoke to me for the first time."

Your breath hitched in your throat. His face was so close, his lips even closer. All you would have to do was lean forward and your lips would definitely meet. So, with a deep breath, you leaned forward to meet JJ's lips.

The second you kissed, you felt heat move through your entire body. JJ's hands came up to cup your face as your hands rested on his chest.

Your lips were on fire. For about the millionth time since you met him, he had proved you wrong. You were so glad he did. This kiss was like your favourite song. It was a beautiful sunset on a summer night. It was everything. You never kissed anyone like this. Whether it was adrenaline or the fact that he was someone you barely knew, this kiss was passionate. Your heart felt like his hands were around it. You didn't know how to act when this kiss would come to an end.

You angled you head so that your kiss would deepen. He tasted like mints and liquor and it tasted divine. You seriously couldn't get enough.

But sadly, you had to part. You needed to take a deep breath and you couldn't when his lips were on yours. You were the first to pull away and take a breath.

Once you did, JJ was the first to speak. "Um, wow."

You nodded, wiping your mouth. Your lipstick was definitely smudged. JJ saw your struggle and moved your hand to help. Except he didn't. Once he touched your lips again, your stomach dropped and you leaned to kiss him again. He instantly closed the space and kissed you again.

God, he was addictive. You definitely got it now. Sarah was right. The way Pogue boys kissed was so different from any Kook boy. Kook boys were careful and soft but JJ was the exact opposite. He was passionate but slow and everytime your tongues touched, you felt your stomach flip.

Finally, you both pulled away again. This time he actually helped you rub away your lipstick without kissing you.

"Wow." You said this time.

JJ nodded, catching his breath. He held onto his chest dramatically once more, making you giggle. "Who the fuck are you Y/N?"

You shrugged. Then, you remembered something. "You wanted to kiss me even when I was ripping your head off?"

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. "The first time I met you was when you smiled at me at the station."

You tried to remember that. Finally, you did. You were interviewing Sheriff Peterkin for the school newspaper and that's when JJ walked into her office. He plopped himself down as you said your goodbyes to Peterkin and you hadn't spoken to him at all. He had sarcastically waved goodbye to you and you genuinely smiled. You remember feel bad for him. You barely remembered his name but you saw him around school, always pissing someone off. You wondered why he wanted to kiss you then.

So, you asked. "Why'd you want to kiss me then?"

JJ rubbed his good eye and smiled at you. There was no arrogance under this smile, it was just pure happiness. "You smiled at me like I wasn't a delinquent like everyone else. You just saw me, a regular person."

You were so surprised. You hadn't thought anything of it and never thought of that day again. Until right now. How could JJ remember that?

"I'm surprised you remembered that." You confessed, grabbing ahold of JJ's hand.

JJ smirked. "If you ever tell anyone that, I'll embarrass you."

You giggled. "How?"

"I'll tell everyone you kissed me." JJ joked, squeezing my hand.

"That's not embarrassing." You gave JJ a fake frown, suppressing a smile. "Tell them I once peed my pants in ninth grade."

JJ cackled as you said this. Scared we'd be found, you covered his mouth. "Don't."

It was too late. Someone had heard you and JJ.

Only seconds later, someone opened the closet door. You squeezed JJ's hand to brace yourselves for Rafe but instead it was another waiter. He looked disappointed but not surprised.

"You gotta get out of there." He deadpanned, making way for you to leave.

JJ exited first, you following him shortly after. After you exited, he let go of your hand and looked to you. You were standing in a hallway now and you were too busy looking out to see if Rafe and his goons were around, you didn't realize he was trying to get your attention.

"Y/N." He said, finally getting your attention. Once you looked to him, he spoke. "You wanna pretend like this never happened?"

Your heart sank. Maybe you were wrong in giving him the benefit of the doubt. You sure decided to be honest. You never wanted to go back to never knowing JJ Maybank.

You shook your head. "Do you?"

JJ smiled. "No."

You both just stood there and smiled at each other for a moment. You were just content in being together. You wondered that maybe this is how relationships were supposed to be; easy. It seemed so easy with JJ.

After a long period of silence, JJ leaned forward and kissed you once more. As you pulled away, he spoke."I should go. Don't wanna get my ass handed to me by those goons."

You laughed, shaking your head at him. "I'll see you around then?"

JJ shrugged. "Let's just say, I forgot my keys in Sarah's closet and I'll come by tomorrow at three to get them. If you're there, then I'll see you then."

You shook your head, smiling so wide. "I'll see if I can make it."

JJ nodded and then let you go, making his way farther and farther away from you. At first, you watched you as he walked but when he got to the door, leading him in the opposite direction of the party, he turned around and opened the front door of Sarah's home. Then, JJ was gone. He was gone before you could even say goodbye.

But you knew its wasn't goodbye. This was just the beginning.

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mercysought · 4 years ago

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She hated that place. But not in the same way that she hated home.

Her home was all that she had known for a very long time, the glimpses of the outside world only visible through small and short visits to the city. Unrecognisable, dressed in men’s clothing with her hair kept in the same style as her brother’s would if he let it grow.

Her home was beautiful, comfortable, exactly all that she could want. Carefully curated books from her mother and father, only sensible ones for a Lady’s mind (despite her mother’s complaints). Tutors that could keep boredom away. Physicians that would try to keep her nightmares subdued. Her mother keeping her within the home, with fear hanging like a heavy curtain over a large window: the fear that one day those same physicians would take her baby away.

This place? This place taunted her.

She had traded her skirts for a pair of trousers much like what she had in the past. Her heavy coat having been discarded once they had reached warmer climates. Still, she wore a corset above the looser and lighter blouse. A lighter coat hid most of her small frame.

Émilie stared at the lively beach, feeling the weight of the sword that rested horizontally on her lap. The weight of the barrel of a small firearm swaddled against the palm of her hand. Thin fingers drew circles over the metal as she watched people go. Short dirty nails scratch it absently as the warm breeze brushes aside light blonde hair.

“You should not have come. Do you understand how dangerous these people are, Émilie?! What could have happened to you?!”

She didn’t know what she had expected. A hug, perhaps. A flash of a smile and surprise when she turned around to see Abel walk into this small tavern on the island of Nassau. Shock had certainly crossed her brother’s face, a rare sight, but that had not remained for long. Instead she still felt the burning on her upper arm as he had grabbed her towards a more isolated corner, room, of the house.

Abel did not know how to scream, or shout, to anyone. Émilie had learnt this first when they were still children and she had cut his knee with his own training weapon. Nor was he the type to scold. She had not expected the strength with which he had grabbed her arm. She had not expected the scolding. Émilie’s bright eyes still hold his confusion, the same deepening frown when they come to a stop.

Everything is loud in this place and Abel had always been small, softer. Even now in the middle of this, standing so close where she could see how much longer his hair had grown and how the sun had burnt his eyebrows. He is still soft. So soft she can barely hear him regardless of how much she focused in, how much she tried. His hand dives into the light brown hair, pulling it back as his back turns to her. She can see the bright freckles around his neck, the same ones that had dashed across his cheeks. The same ones that splash hers.

“You stopped sending letters!” her voice shakes, her hand still wrapped around her arm. She had heard stories from the pirates that had taken her here of this place: the single piece of the free world. A free world. This place that had taken her brother hostage. These people that lived a life according to their own rules. How Émiliie both loathed and envied them. Half the thoughts pulling at her to come closer and the other disgusted at the violence that was offered so freely “I knew something was wrong, and I knew you were still alive! I had to help! I had to come!”

His brother turns to face her and in her face he finds a challenge: if it was the other way around; deny it. Deny that you wouldn’t have done the same way. A bait. Émilie watches him, mirroring much of his stance. Straightened shoulders, tense jaw. In a place filled to the brim with expert fishermen and large sharks, it seemed Abel had only set himself deeper into his ways: and so her bait remains untouched.

“You are going to wait for me to find you safe passage back to France.” he says simply and matter of fact.

Abel starts walking, walking past her and with his hand pushing aside the curtains that make out for a poor divider. Her mind does not run so much as it sprints, swirling around. She could feel it. This place. It is a poor excuse and yet it does nothing but embolden her in the volume with which her words come out, in the loud French that starts to fill the space over the cups.

“What?!“ Émilie’s shock could only be compared to the anger that erupts from her mouth, to the speed with which she turns and grabs his arm, preventing him from leaving. Her hair, loose into long and pale strips, so unlike what she would have worn at any other time, sways over her coat. Grey eyes find his “I’m NOT leaving without you! I’m not going back to our parents to tell them that you became a pirate and chose to stay to pay an imaginary debt instead of returning!“

“Because our parents know that you’re here?” he shoots back, softly. And how that only made her angrier. Not that he knew that she had found a way of leaving their home and that they were likely more concerned over her than him. The fact that Abel never raised his voice. It drove her mad “I cannot leave. Not yet.”

His hand covers hers over his arm, as they do they release of the curtain. His fingers curl around hers and start to pull away. Her nails dig deeper.

“Why?! Because of your STUPID sense of HONOUR?” his brows shoot up. And there is hurt lingering in grey eyes that stare back at hers and she cannot stop herself from feeling glad. Glad that he seems to be showing something, anything. That her words seem to have finally reached him “They are PIRATES, Abel!” she points out, out towards the tavern. Her eyes do not leave her brother’s “Thieves, murderers! That they didn’t kill you outright is a miracle! You would lay down your life for them because you think they spared you, when they would not think twice before leaving you to ROT after you stop being useful!”

He holds his breath and she feels like she just ran across the whole beach full sprint. Her teeth sink into her lower lip and her free hand falls beside her body. Small hand closing into a fist. The silence holds, hangs in the air while Abel holds his sister’s hand that had found purchase on his arm.

“Émilie.”

— Don’t start. — Don’t ask this of me. — I know you don’t mean it. But this changes nothing.

Any one of those options could have been what followed and yet nothing did. Only his stare and the silence. The gentle hold of his hand. Émilie lip quivers and her hold tightens around his arm “I can’t protect you and you don — ”

“Then you better be ready to tie me up and drag me to the boat back to France.” she hears herself say, pulling her hand from his arm. It jolts down to the side of her body. Her jaw could snap. Between gritted teeth she warns: “I’m not leaving.”

Émilie brushes past her older brother, dodging the hold on her arm. Her hand pulls the curtain aside, her boots heavy against the old wood floor and she walks past the row of murdering thieves out into the bright sun of Nassau. Not sure where to, it didn’t matter.

She still didn’t know where she was. Not too far from the tavern. Close enough to the sea that she could see the same ship that had brought her in but no familiar face.

“I heard the fight.”

With a jump, her hold on the pistol tightens but it does not move it towards the source of the voice. She did not recognise the man that had walked into the small shack that she had found herself in, hidden away from the sun and the searing heat. He was speaking English, and while her knowledge of the language had certainly improved in the few months that she had travelled to reach Nassau, it was not good. Still, she understood one word at least: fight.

The hold loosens as she watches him approach. Both hands raised briefly and he sits next to her against some crates. Émilie’s weight shifts, moving only slightly further from where he was.

“You’re Abel’s…?” her eyes remain on the beach, on the men picking up crates and the way they brought them to the shade of rickety constructs such as this one. She breathes in slowly, her eyes lower to her hands before they once again move to the beach. He didn’t pose a danger, not yet at least. But could she even trust her gut feeling in this island?

Émilie glances in the man’s direction. She recognised him, or at least his features were somewhat familiar. One of the men that Abel had arrived with. With a deep breath she looks again at the beach, considering his question. Abel’s name sounded wrong when spoken in that accent.

Still, if it was a question and her brother’s name was mentioned she was almost certain she knew what he was asking, seeking confirmation of “Sister.”

“Sister…”

He repeats, nodding, looking out to the same spot that Émilie was once again staring at the men and the many ships docked by the beach. While the noise from them was loud, the man sitting beside her grew louder. Not him, not himself per se, but an anxiety that grew louder every second that he spent there. The warm breeze brushed against them both as the silence continued, growing heavier by the second until a soft breeze came and seemed to brush it away. His anxiety, however, grew louder.

How she wished he would just leave her alone.

Émilie looks to the other for another moment. An empty paper. Something about an empty paper, about the safety of his crew. Captain Flint. Her breathing grows heavier and when she feels his eyes turn to her she quickly looks to the sea, turning her face completely from him. She had heard of him. Heard some. Enough.

“I don’t know how to speak English well. And you won’t understand me speaking French.” she turns to face him once again, speaking in French because it was easier. Easier and because she wanted him to be gone, to understand that she didn’t want him there. Her sentence comes to a close with an exasperated sight and her lips held into a thin line.

The pure confused expression on his face would have been endearing if she hadn’t been in such a sour mood. Instead he simply looks at her for a solid second, much like her also likely attempting to pierce together what she had just said.

The crates creak under his weight as he gets up. Only now that she can have a good look at him does she realise how tall he was. He nods once again, her attention turns to the beach when she thinks he starts to turn to leave. And yet, he remains, standing, his hand pointing towards the weapons at her lap.

“Do you know how to use those?” her eyes immediately follow where he pointed, down to the pistol and sword.

The sword she had brought from home. It was hers. The same way that Abel had been given one when he was younger. And this one? This one was old, old and small but what she had considered serviceable. Easy to hold and to use, if she needed. The pistol had been given to her from the Captain of the ship that had taken her there.

You’re good at sniffing out trouble, and that’s good, but that can lead to a lot of shit being thrown your way so...

Good at sniffing (the same as smelling he had come to realise, but what a dog would do) out trouble. Good at understanding when the mood of the ship was turning dour, when it was turning dangerous.

She brings them closer to her. Her cheeks and ears burn with each second that passed in the silence after his question was asked. Light grey eyes lift to look at his eyes, finally. He didn’t seem to speak as if to show off how defenceless she was, a threat. There was concern, plain and simple.

Small and thin hands hold the weapons tighter as the frown on her face grows deeper. No. She didn’t know how to use it.

“What’s your name?”

“Émilie.”

#émilie de clair ( muses )#émilie de clair ( headcanon )#( émilie / billy )#( SHUT UP. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT )#( I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS AND THAT'S THAT )#long post tw #( this got really long lmao )#( 2k words?? on a headcanon / non rp post??? who IS SHE )

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maple-leafing · 4 years ago

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20. “I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.” And 26. “Do you ever think?” for Barzal! Thanks in advance! 💕

Prompt(s):

“I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.”

“Do you ever think?”

Player: Mathew Barzal

Team: New York Islanders

You fucking hate studying, and you envy your friends that find it easy....because it is nowhere near it. It’s a necessary evil, you know that, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy doing it. You’re the type of person that needs to get in the groove of doing something. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a procrastinator, but you definitely skirt the line of not being one. The only good thing about it, is that when you finally set your mind to doing something, you damn well are going to do it. And no one is going to stop you......Except maybe your boyfriend Mat.

That is, you’d decided to take the night to study for your upcoming finals, alone, when Mat showed up at your apartment, cheekily pushing for your attention. He’d let himself in with the key you’d given him (which you’re quite regretting now), and had gotten himself sat comfortably on your couch.

Your books and notes are scattered everywhere, as Mat watches you fumble through the living room aimlessly. You look stressed, and frazzled, and albeit, slightly annoyed. It’s only slight, but it’s there. He doesn’t know if he should push it, but he really, really wants to.

“You should take a break baby.” He breaks the silence you wish you still had. “You’re clearly working too hard.”

You scoff at him lightly. You’re not even mad at him. Honest....Truth be told, you love having Mat at your apartment, and you love being around him, but he certainly isn’t going to help you get better grades, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. Fuuuck. You’d just wanted one night to focus on your schooling. Is that too much to ask?

He sends you this charming glance that has you melting into his touch and you have to remind yourself why he can’t be here. But he’s so damn pretty....maybe you do need a little bit of a break. Maybe you could spare a moment....just a little one.

No.

You can’t do this to yourself. You have to ignore those beautiful big eyes of his....you have to. Get yourself together.

“Mat.....” You whine out a plea. “I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.”

He lets out a laugh, and you can feel a warmth in your chest. He’s not going to let you off easy is he?

“But you look so stressed.” He teases. “I thought maybe I could help with that?” He phrases it in a question, but you know he means it as a statement.

“Distracting!” You mock, slapping him away from you. “You’re so fucking distracting!”

He only lets out another ethereal laugh. “Quite the mouth on you love.”

“Ugh.” You sigh in frustration, his antics and teasing destroying your resolve. “Do you ever think?”

“Mhm.” He hums in offence. “Quite a bit thank you.”

You decide to entertain him for a moment, curious where this will go. “About?”

“You.” He pauses. “Us.” Another pause, longer this time. “Our future.” He ends.

“Our future?” You ask totally distracted now, any plans of studying long forgotten.

“Yeah.” He answers. “Marriage, kids, the whole white picket fence dream. I want that all with you.”

Everything you’d been thinking about before....any semblance of studying, is gone from your mind. And you realize instantly it’s because of Mat. He can so easily make you do that. Forget anything and everything around you...except for him.

“How do you do that?” You ask him, a dopey smile on your face.

“What?”

You tilt your head towards him in awe. “Make me feel like I’m the only person you could ever look at like that.” You say. “How you make me forget every stress I’ve ever had in a matter of minutes without any effort.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking at you again, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst. Because all he needs to do is look at you. He makes words become irrelevant....useless. It’s one of his many talents that you’ll always be entranced by. It’s uncanny and fully encompassing.

“I want that with you too.” You break the longing silence. “I want everything with you.”

He only sends you another knowing look, wordless in a sense, yet so many things are being said without being voiced. His lips curl up in a genuinely beautiful smile that speaks volumes. I love you. I always will.

Your own lips curl upwards, and silently you say it too. I love you too.

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl blurb #prompt night

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nukyster-blog · 4 years ago

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Changing Course Chapter 23) Toxic circle of the bear

.-.-.

Ivar stared through his lashes at the curve of Piglet’s back. Fear had driven her back to his side of the box, but the feet of distance between them spoke volumes. Although he’d received plenty of blankets to keep him warm, he felt the coolness emanating from Piglet’s body. She absolutely despised him for kissing the fair maiden. It was an offense to their shared hatred towards the Christians and it had shown her that even though his prick did not work, he was still very capable of defiling a woman’s grace.

He’d stabbed her in the back and he was very aware of that. It still did not make him feel ashamed for his actions. In his defense, how many times did it happen that a beautiful woman of wealth would kneel in front of a cripple slave?

‘Once’, Ivar reminded himself firmly. This was the first time and probably the last time, but it still had happened. He’d kissed a noble woman all while in shackles, bloody and not carrying any kind of name. So, that must mean something right? He must have done something good to be favored by the Gods.

‘Ivar the bloody, the martyr,’ he thought to himself and couldn’t help but grin, ‘I like that status better than the boneless, the crippled.’

But did this new title supersede his infamous reputation of being a monster? Ivar shifted, pulling his knees up to make himself a little warmer.

‘No’, he decided. Sure, in his current poor state, there were benefits to being this fraud , this image of martyrdom. Because he needed others to help him stay alive. He was fully dependent on Piglet and all of the others that brought him food and warmth.

But Ivar did not consider himself born to ask and plead. If he had any say, he’d rather be the monster he was in Kattegat. There he did not need to say please; he didn’t even need to ask twice to get what he wanted. Fear is much stronger than empathy and kindness, he thought. Others will work twice as fast and hard when threatened.

Although Ludolf was a spineless snail, Ivar still envied the young ruler. If Ivar had been in Ludolf’s shoes, he’d have the entire castle wrapped around his finger as well, all by ruling with an iron fist.

A yearning sigh escaped his mouth; how he missed power and control. His lips still burned from the fair maiden’s brush. It hadn’t been much more than a peck, a brief interaction none of his brothers would bother to mention.

But the touch was still there and curled up inside his thoughts, taking a very important place in his memory.

Though exhaustion had been growing in his bones, a weary feeling kept him wide-awake. It wasn’t anxiety, for he did not fear the fair maiden would reveal their kiss to anyone. He’d seen the fear in her eyes when she spotted Piglet. No, he didn’t have to worry about her even mentioning her visit to his shed.

Why was it so impossible for him to fall asleep? He needed rest; his body was still in the middle of an extreme healing process. But his mind just kept racing in circles, reminding him how soft the fair maiden’s lips had felt against his.

Ivar curled up inside his blanket and wrestled through an endless, sleepless night.

.-.-.

Ivar never expected himself to admit this, but he missed taking care of the pigs. Maybe even cleaning chamber pots. He’d been cooped up inside the shed for too long, without anything to do. He and Piglet were still not on speaking terms, so she was a horrible companion. She kept mostly to herself but was sure to throw occasional daggers his way. In return, he ignored her, because he was not going to apologize for his actions.

There was the small group of devotees who came in occasionally with gifts and dull, pious, ogling eyes. Ivar had to admit that being perceived as something sacred was a nice change, but in the end those were Christians, the enemy. If they entered the shed Ivar mostly pretended to be fast asleep and kept up the act until they left.

Moving still ached and the shackles didn’t grant him much length. Ivar did burden himself with a strict routine, to crawl in circles before and after breakfast, lunch and supper. It reminded him of the bear the men of Kattegat once caught. It was a young bear, and had been locked inside a small cage for years after being taken captive. The youngsters of Kattegat enjoyed poking the bear with sticks or throwing pebbles at it. The wild animal was a small bit of entertainment and a local attraction , so it was fed and looked after.

But over time it’s mind started to deteriorate, slowly going mad, as wildlife should not be locked up behind bars. The bear started to shake with its head and chew on his front paws, passing through his cage, leaving bloody prints. It walked in circles every day, the same pace, the same steps until it’s endless circle was marked into the floor of its cage.

That was how Ivar felt, like the bloody mad bear of Kattegat, doomed to crawl his routine to prevent himself from going crazy.

Sitting up, he did that a few times a day and tried to remain in that position as long as the healing wounds on his back allowed. Sitting, enduring the pain, and staring at the same empty box facing him was excruciating for the mind.

He tried practicing with the sling he’d been given by one of the youngsters. But if he extended his arm, the vulnerable skin on his back came close to tearing open again. So, the pebbles and small rocks did not get far.

He’d found a small log during his endless circling and started carving a small man out of the wood to accompany the small toy horse he’d received. Ivar had never been the best at fine motor skills due to his large callused hands, so it bothered him immensely that the figure lacked decent features. He also had to be careful not to have the knife drawn out when one of the devotees came in. It honestly was the most thrilling event of the day, which made him even more restless.

Ivar wondered if he’d even be allowed to leave the shed. He’d lost track of days but figured that by this point it had been up to three weeks since the last time he’d been touched by the sun.

He’d rather bite off his own tongue than admit it, but he even missed Sunday service. It went against everything he believed in, but at least he’d be placed in a different setting. At least he’d have something else to see, faces, dresses, others...the fair maiden. At this point, everything was better than hearing the small noises of cattle and staring at that same damned box.

Piglet’s relentless will to keep him alive remained strong; just like her determination to keep him feeling like shit. Her silent treatment lasted, although she made sure he was fed and she tended to the cuts on his back.

At the end of one day, Ivar had spent the majority of his time blowing spit bubbles. He had enough of her holier-than-thou attitude. His short fuse had always been one of his flaws, but with the daily pain and mind shattering boredom, even that small fuse had vanished completely.

He grabbed Piglet by the neck when she placed his dish at his feet, and pulled her down. Ivar watched with calm eyes asPiglet fought his grip, like a rabbit in a trap. Her struggle was rather useless, because with his bear trap-of-a-hand he could easily crush her trachea. But it was the most entertaining thing he’d seen in days, so he extended her fright by applying more pressure.

Now this was thrilling, finding and securing this fine balance between life and death. Being in control, pushing her to her limit, all while preventing her from choking or going into a seizure. He watched her with a fixated death-stare, ignoring her small fist beating against his chest. Feeling her heartbeat pulse against his palms and fingers was far more interesting.

“I’m done with you ignoring me, Piglet”, Ivar said contemptuously, “stop your silly childish act and speak. SPEAK TO ME!” He shouted in her face, nose nearly touching hers before easing his grip, but his hand remained circled around her throat.

Piglet’s first breath was that of a small whimper, sucking in as much air as her lungs allowed her, eyes still bulging out of their sockets.

“Men, all the same!” There was no heat in her voice. Although her fist had lacked strength, her words packed a powerful punch, “all the same!” Without a warning she head butted him, felt how his grip lessened for a mere moment, and then kneed him hard in the groin.

Ivar’s hand abandoned her throat, shooting down to his crotch to cradle. Piglet took her chance and pulled herself back on her feet.

With spite, she kicked Ivar’s bowl in his direction and the wood bounced against his head, most of the content spilling over him.

“All the same!” Where Piglet’s final words before taking her place for the night, a few inches on the good side of her makeshift line.

.-.-.

Seven more days passed, Ivar carved it down into the wooden panel of his box. Seven long days of being deprived from sun and fresh air,of decent human contact-even the devotees had shown up less and less. He started to become old news.

He started to become the bear of Kattegat. Instead of chewing his fingers to the bone he’d carved a cut into the skin of his wrist. The dull blade had trouble piercing his skin, but once succeeding the blood spilled rich.

The pain was sharp and invasive; it was nice to feel something again. For an endless amount of time, Ivar watched the pattern of the blood run down his wrist, dripping down into the hay,forming a small puddle. With his fingertips, he used the blood to paint Rune symbols onto the wooden board, next to the seven-day markings.

The D for Dagaz, daylight, the rune for balance between light and dark, for opening and closure.

The O for Odhil, the rune for land, culture and spirit, for wealth that’s not for sale.

Ivar wanted to draw more, but was prevented by Piglet who yanked on his bleeding arm. She cursed him in her mother’s tongue as blood flowed and splattered down upon her tattered rags.

“Why you want to die?” She threw at him, digging her fingers deep into his wrist.

Ivar calmly raised his eyebrow and chuckled coldly. “Die, dear Piglet? Why on earth do you think I want to die? Aren't I needed to protect your virtue?”

Piglet’s nostrils flared and she did not respond. Instead, she tore off a string of her dress and tied it around Ivar’s wrist.

“Aren’t I just your bloody pet dog Piglet, kept alive and fed to keep your demon away?” Ivar continued hissing through his teeth.

“But don’t you worry dear Piglet, your demon has a new toy to play with,” Ivar continued, “maybe that’s what has turned you into this sour bitch, because you know you’re far from being beautiful. Always a second choice, spoiled goods, dirty and different.”

Ivar knew he hit the right button when she slapped him across the face. Good, let her feel like absolute shit for a change. She was able to roam freely over the grounds of castle De Haar, gifted protection from him. He’d bled for her, she should be grateful instead of being this impossible silent no-good.

“This is all because of you Piglet,” Ivar pulled his shirt up and showed his battered backside, “I’ve endured that for you and you treat me like a waste of space all because of what? I stole a kiss? I am only human and took what is probably my last opportunity to feel the warmth of a woman. I know you’d rather be skinned alive then to let me touch you, yet you expect me to be, what? Be faithful to you and you alone?” Ivar laughed but it was bitter.

“That’s not how it works Piglet, you do not own or control me. I respect you, for you’ve cared for me even though you didn’t have to. But I’m not your damn cattle. Not your damn sheep, I do whatever I please.”

Ivar sat up and glared at Piglet who remained completely silent and blank, although her shaking fist told him she understood his words perfectly well.

“If you want me to protect your body, you start speaking to me again. Play games with me, entertain me, by the Gods flatter me with a smile every once in a while.” Ivar summoned up his demands. “I don’t care if I must bleed for you again, but I hate you for the disrespect you’ve given me.”

Her temper was one to match, Ivar had to give her that. Those smoldering dark eyes were a shield and sword on their own. But her eyes were eventually the first ones to look away as her mind worked out that the fine balance between the both of them had to be restored.

“Fine,” she eventually spat.

“I have a name,” Ivar pushed to make his point.

“Fine, Ivar,” Piglet managed to pour so much venom into pronouncing his name that the syllables seemed toxic.

.-.-.

A/N: It’s safe to say that Ivar can’t handle women. And Piglet isn’t an actual star at handling Ivar. I think they are both damaged, which causes them to be so cruel to one another. Piglet’s biggest fear is men, all men in general. I think she wants to be able to trust Ivar completely but he does shitty things which prevents her from letting her guard down. And Ivar, well he’s just a complete cluster bomb, gets his emotions all over the place and acts in the worst way possible. It’s his shortcoming and his gilded-cage upbringing I guess. For the majority of his life he could simply force people to dance for him. This doesn’t work anymore, although he tries to maintain this level of control and power. We’ve seen this before, he’s forcing Piglet to speak to him, using either his physical power or by simply threatening her. It’s sad really, because I think he’s just inadequate, hasn’t learned how to behave as a normal human being. He wanted to be a monster, because being a boy was simply too hard. A rather sad and lonely path, but as the bear in the cage, if you’ve been pacing that same circle over and over, it’s hard to take another direction. To ‘Change Course’.

Xoxoxo Nukyster The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane

The tagged ones:@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys @shannygoatgruff@pieces-by-me@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa@readsalot73@lauraan182 @conaionaru@sarahh-jane@peachybonelessIf you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fandom #vikings #alex hogh andersen #vikings fanfic

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echo-bleu · 4 years ago

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map out a world

I fell in love with Alec and my brain had decided that he's autistic by 1x02, and this is the result. It's basically just 6.7k of Alec finding his inner autistic and Magnus being supportive. Huge thanks to @moonlight-breeze-44 for checking it over and being amazingly supportive.

CWs: there's more than a bit of internalized ableism on Alec's part in this, and some self-injurious stims.

By now, Alec is fairly sure Magnus is trying to tell him something.

It's all about the books. It was sweet to discover, early on in their relationship, that Magnus absolutely loves reading Mundane fiction. It's partly because there's no such thing as Shadow World fiction, Alec knows. There are books of history, of legends and tales, but no modern fiction. Shadowhunters are too busy raising soldiers to care for anything cultural that isn't related to being obsessed over their heritage, and most Downworlders are either integrated enough into mundane society to adopt most of their culture, or not human enough to care for something as simple as books.

Magnus also grew up at a time were books were exceedingly rare and entirely out of his reach − he didn’t learn to read before he was over fifty years old − so discovering the imaginary worlds of the Mundanes was all the sweetest to him. He has a habit of opening the door of almost every bookshop he passes by, just to look and smell the books, and almost always comes out with a couple of new novels. He also reads at lightning speed, so he often immediately donates the books he doesn't want to keep to the closest refugee charity.

Alec loves learning about his quirks, and he's followed Magnus into more than one unassuming bookshop around the world during their dates. For some reason, Magnus especially loves crime books and the soapiest romances. But it's not something that they share.

Walking into the loft, Alec eyes the new pile of books on the coffee table, that he knows for a fact wasn’t there this morning when he left for work. He kicks off his shoes and drops beside Magnus on the couch, just shy of touching him. Magnus looks up from his paperback and extends an inviting arm, so Alec ducks under it to rest against his side.

Magnus knows to squeeze him just tight enough, making Alec sigh softly. The sun is barely rising, and it's been a long night at the Institute. Alec is glad to be home, finally. “What are you reading?” he asks when he feels steady enough to speak.

Magnus wordlessly shows him the cover. Neurotribes, Alec reads. The legacy of autism− that's not Magnus' usual reading material. It's been happening more and more, lately, Magnus switching from terrible romances to non-fiction. He started with LGBT history books, a few months ago. Pride flags started to make random appearances around the loft, and there's now a whole shelf of books, most of them rainbow-colored in some way, behind Magnus' desk. He told Alec about the parts of that history that he lived, and the ones that no book ever talked about, the lovers he had that would never be remembered, the people who'd fought for their rights from the shadows.

Then he switched to books about therapy. About trauma, PTSD, child abuse. Alec frowned at that, but he figures that Magnus has plenty of bad childhood memories. He still thinks about how rattled Magnus was, that time the agony rune brought his mother's death back up. If books can help him process that, then good for him, right?

This is new. There are half a dozen new books beside Magnus' glass, and they’re all about autism. It doesn't seem like something Magnus would research for himself��or is it? No. “Why?” Alec asks.

Magnus shrugs. “It's enlightening,” he says.

“Autism?”

“I think it could explain some things. And these ideas, about neurology being as diverse as sexuality, or skin color? I like it.”

Alec nods at the second part − it does seem like an interesting concept. Maybe he'll ask about it more, when he's not so tired. “Explain what?” he still asks.

“You should try reading them.”

“Magnus, I don't−”

Magnus stops him by squeezing his shoulder tighter. “I know. It's fine. I'll just keep reading, and share thoughts, maybe.”

“Okay,” Alex says softly. He still doesn't get it, but if it's something Magnus is interested in, then he's willing to listen. Always. He puts his hand over Magnus' on his shoulder, running his fingers over the warm silver rings.

Like a great many of their hobbies, it isn’t something they share. Alec doesn't read for fun. He reads action reports and Clave memos and equipment order forms, but he doesn't read books. It's not something he enjoys.

Or maybe that's not true, not exactly. He used to love reading, as a child in Idris. He'd get his hands on every history book he could find, heavy volumes bound in dusty leather, and devour his way through them. That is, until Jace came along.

Jace who didn't like books. He and Izzy got right along, wanting nothing more than to spar in the training room or run outside every chance they got. Alec knows now that it's not true, that Jace enjoyed reading before Valentine made even that into a lesson, a punishment, but back then he turned it on Alec, mocking him cruelly in the way only a child can every time he caught him with his nose inside a book. Alec never cared too much about the other children's taunts, but from Jace, who was better than him at everything, including at pleasing Alec's parents, it was different. So he stopped. He started following Jace and Izzy everywhere they went, and in the little time he had free, he perfected the one thing that was still his own: archery.

He hasn't read a book cover to cover since he was eleven. Magnus tried to get him to read at bedtime, but he'll just pull up work papers. Fiction is an escape he doesn't need (doesn't deserve).

“Are you tired?” Magnus asks when Alex sighs softly at where his thoughts are going.

“A little,” Alec admits.

“How about you go rest for a bit while I get breakfast ready?”

Alec nods. As much as he'd love to stay in Magnus' arms, he's been interacting with people all night, and more than just his siblings, now that he has to coordinate all the Shadowhunter teams going out. He probably needs some time to sort himself out.

Magnus initiates the move his brain is struggling with, hoisting them both up off the couch. He gives Alec one last squeeze − his hold lower on Alec's back, now that they're standing, and it gives Alec goose bumps − and wanders off toward the kitchen, his book abandoned on the couch. Alec shakes himself and makes his way to their bedroom. Without letting himself think too much about it, he grabs the first book of the pile on the coffee table as he goes.

He stays immobile in front of the bed for a full minute, trying to decide if he can curl up under the blanket even though he's still dressed. Undressing doesn't seem worth it. He compromises by only removing his pants, since his jacket is already off, and keeping his shirt on. He takes his stele out of his pocket before getting into bed and keeps it in his hand, mindlessly running his fingers up and down the textured metal handle. He sets the paperback by his head and stares at it, thinking.

He's not always good at reading between the lines, but he's not obtuse, either. He's seen the pattern. Magnus' reading choices and his gentle encouragements to look at the books have coincided directly, and a part of Alec knows that Magnus wasn't looking up PTSD in child soldiers for himself, however much he doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's him reaching out, trying to understand, even though Alec doesn't believe it's quite the right way of going at it.

He's not traumatized. Sure, he was raised a soldier, but Mundane categories don't apply. Mundanes are more fragile, aren't they? They don't heal as easily as Shadowhunters, even physically. Beside, Jace had it so much worse than Alec growing up, and he's fine. Mostly.

This new phase, though, it's more of a surprise. Sure, they've acknowledged, together, that neither of them is quite normal. Their queerness took a back seat, in Downworlder and Shadowhunter eyes alike, to the mixed nature of their couple, but they stand out like a sore thumb everywhere they go, even in the Mundane world. Magnus stands out largely by choice, by his fashion choices, but Alec has come to realize that those are an armor as much as they're a statement. He envies Magnus, sometimes, for how easy it is to him to reject the norm, to refuse to conform.

Alec stands out by default. It's just who he is, the one who never quite fits. His size makes him visible when he wishes he could disappear into the background, and his constant awkwardness attracts attention he doesn't want. He's tried so hard to obey all the rules, to be perfect, the son his parents tried to mold him into, the brother his siblings could be proud of, but he failed, again and again. Something in him is just...not right.

Broken.

Different, not broken, the book's subtitle jumps out at him, on the spine. Alec almost rolls his eyes at the truism. Yes, sure, different. Different enough that he can never be what's expected of him, that it interferes with his duty. Dating Magnus is one thing, a violation of the norm he will allow himself, because he can see that the norm is the one that's wrong there. Downworlders aren't less than Shadowhunters, so why should their relationship be frowned upon? And Alec knows plenty of queer people, by now. He knows they're not broken. Magnus' beautiful soul certainly isn't broken.

But Alec is. Not because he’s gay, but because he’s a b normal.

“Alexander?”

Alec starts at the noise and recoils, just a little. Magnus is standing close, though Alec hasn't heard him approach. The concern in his eyes tells Alec that it's not the first time Magnus has called his name. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Breakfast can wait, if you'd rather sleep.”

“No, I'm coming.” Alec doesn't think he can sleep, now that his mind has slid down this path.

He leaves the paperback on his bedside table.

The subject doesn't come up again for another few weeks. The book remains on Alec's nightstand, and he actually finds himself skimming it. Magnus doesn't push once. He leaves the pile of other books on the coffee table, and more join them when he stops at a bookstore on one of their walks, but he doesn't insist on Alec reading them.

But something changes. It's in the little things, barely perceptible unless Alec pays attention. Magnus' behavior toward him changes slightly. He asks for permission before touching him. He seems to recognize when Alec is stuck, and manages to gently steer him into action. He stops himself mid-sentence to reword his questions in a clearer way.

The first time Alec notices, really sees what Magnus is trying to do, he panics. He's pretty sure that isn't at all what Magnus intended when he pulled out a fidget toy and offered it to Alec, for him to lock himself in the bathroom and have a panic attack.

“Darling, please let me in,” Magnus says through the door. He could just use his magic and ignore the lock, but he doesn't. Alec is relieved, confusedly, through the buzzing in his ears, and yet a little disappointed. He clasps his hands over his ears, even though the loft is nearly silent and the noise he's hearing comes from inside.

“Alexander!” Magnus calls again, still softly but with an edge. Alec freezes, his breathing suddenly going from erratic to perfectly controlled, even though the pounding in his ears intensifies. Magnus is angry with him. He should be. By all rights, he should have already broken in, or be long gone.

“Let me in, Alec.” Magnus is not soft anymore, but commanding. The change in address isn't lost on Alec, either. Magnus only drops his habit of using his full name when something's really wrong.

Alec swallows. He picks himself up and takes two steps toward the door. He keeps his face angled away from the brightness of the bathroom window, but he checks his posture before he sticks out his hand to undo the lock. He hurriedly steps back, close to the wall, hands clasped behind his back.

Magnus pushes the door in, taking in the bathroom quickly until he settles on Alec. Alec keeps his eyes trained straight forward, just above Magnus' head.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus breathes.

Alec itches to wring his hands, but he's long learned to stay still. He waits, instead. Waits for Magnus to tell him that it's over, that this is too much.

He thought things were going fairly well. Magnus let him be as close to honest as Alec dares to be, these days. Before he knew it, Alec found himself relaxing around him, not bothering to watch his every move. He thought maybe it was because they come from such different cultures. Magnus doesn't know what's expected of a Shadowhunter, just like Alec knows very little about Warlocks, so maybe his eccentricities passed for cultural difference. But he was wrong, wasn't he?

Magnus knows, and he's trying to figure out what's wrong with Alec. That's the reason for the books. He's trying to fix him, and soon enough he's going to realize that there's no fixing this.

Or maybe he already has.

Magnus approaches him slowly, telegraphing his moves.

“I really messed this up, didn't I?” he murmurs.

Alec frowns. This is unexpected. “What?” is the only thing he manages to get past his lips, though. He wants to apologize, to beg maybe, but the words won't even come.

“I only meant to help. I didn't want to scare you.”

“I'm not scared,” Alec replies immediately, almost automatically. He is.

Magnus' hands are open in front of him, in full view, the fidget toy gone. Not that it matters. It's just a catalyst, not the actual problem.

“Tell me what you need,” Magnus offers. His voice is soft again, sad like his eyes. Alec wants to step back, but he's backed himself into the wall. He shakes his head without a word.

“Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me. Do you want space? Do you want me to go?”

Alec should say yes. He should hide far away from Magnus until he's fully in control again and then pretend nothing happened, until the next time he messes up, and the next time, the day Magnus can't deal with him anymore.

He can't.

He shakes his head again, looking away. His left hand is gripping his right so hard at his back that he can barely feel his fingers.

Magnus stays still. “I'm not leaving,” he says. “You can relax. I'm not going to try anything, Alexander.”

Alec hates that he needs this reassurance. He hates acting like this, like a child, like an abnormality, and yet he can't help it. He hates that even the thought of Magnus touching him makes his skin crawl and yet the idea of him leaving makes him want to reach out so bad. The conflict is enough to leave him immobile, incapable of choosing a course of action.

He doesn't know how long it's been, since he bolted into the bathroom. Magnus' face holds infinite patience, and that's why Alec can't look at it.

He knows that by ‘relax’ Magnus means for him to drop the parade stance he still takes without thinking about it, that always puts Magnus on edge. It is a relaxed stance, theoretically − but it's not the same, to someone who wasn't raised a Shadowhunter, is it? Alec forces himself to untangle his hands and let them fall to his sides, but then he doesn't know what to do with them. It feels wrong, to have them hanging there, touching nothing. The sudden blood flow in his fingers hurts.

“I'm sorry,” Magnus says in a low voice, and he sounds unsure, more hesitant than he's been so far. That makes Alec look at him−or at least somewhere on his face, close to the eyebrows.

“For what?” Alec frowns. He's the one who should be apologizing.

“I don't know exactly what I did wrong, but something I did made you panic. I'm sorry.”

Alec shakes his head in frustration. “You−No, you−You know,” he blurts out. “You know I'm...and you want to fix me.”

Magnus freezes. “No, no, Alexander. You've got it backward. Yes, I know you're different. I always knew.”

Alec blinks. “You did?”

“Yes, of course. But I don't want to fix you. I love you the way you are.”

Alec frowns. He tried so hard to be a version of himself that could be loved − he does believe Magnus. It's just that Magnus hasn't seen the ugly parts yet. He will bail, when he does.

Except− I never wanted you to see this terrible, ugly side of me. Maybe Magnus does know. Maybe…

“You are beautiful, Alexander.” Magnus takes a small step closer, still out of reach, but just inside Alec's space. Not intruding. Just...knocking on the door. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

The compliment glides over Alec, not really reaching him, but his own words mirrored back to him do. Magnus briefly drops his glamour, exposing his cat eyes, confirming silently that they're talking about the same thing.

“It's not−it's not the same,” Alec stammers.

“Is it not? You've seen the parts of me that are different, that I am ashamed of, and you looked me in the eyes and told me you loved me even then. Can I not do the same for you?”

Alec closes his eyes. “I'm not−” he starts, but the words aren't right. “Why are you reading all those books, then?” he asks instead. “If it's not to fix me?”

“Because I want to understand,” Magnus explains. He looks around him briefly, at the wall behind Alec, the open door, the sink. Then he seems to make a decision, and he plops down to the floor, crossing his legs under him.

Looking so far down at him, when they're so close, is quickly untenable, so Alec follows suit. He kneels first out of habit, but the position is just uncomfortable on the tiled floor, so he brings one of his legs up to rest his chin on his knee. Magnus gives him a smile.

“We're so different, you and I,” he says slowly. “We have very different life experiences. At first I thought that we'd just bridge that gap slowly as we got to know each other, but−”

“You think we're too different?” Alec hates how weak his voice sounds, how whiny.

“No,” Magnus stops him immediately. “But I...I started to get comfortable around you, and you amazed me every time you showed me that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of. You're incredible, Alexander. You make me feel...loved, even the parts of me that I could never love myself.” His eyes shine, and Alec dares a small grin, losing himself in that glow.

“You deserve all of it,” he murmurs.

“But so do you,” Magnus whispers. “And I realized that even as I lowered all my defenses, you never did.”

“I did,” Alec frowns.

“Yes, I think you did, as much as you can. But never all the way.”

The tiled plinth digs into the small of Alec's back uncomfortably. He leans into it.

“What do you mean?”

“It took me a while to realize that you don't do it consciously. Hide who you are, I mean. It's just your default. The books, they call it 'masking'.”

“I'm not hiding,” Alec frowns. Is he? He's not lying.

Magnus leans in toward him. “You don't let yourself be. You're always controlling how you move and how you speak, so that you look more normal. Aren't you?”

Alec stares for a moment, trying to make sense of the moves Magnus' lips make as his brain struggles to process the words. “I don't−I don't know,” he admits. Is he not supposed to do that? Self-control is the first lesson Shadowhunters learn, and it's deeply ingrained in him.

He looks down at his hand. He's unconsciously stuck it in the fold of his leg, under his knee, and it's now red and bears the mark of his pants' seams. He tucks it behind his back in shame.

“You shouldn't have to do that,” Magnus says softly. “I'm not asking you to change. I just want to understand so I can...meet you in the middle. You go out of your way to accommodate me and my idiosyncracies, all the time. I want to be able to do that for you too.”

Alec stares at him, speechless. Magnus stares back, avoiding his eyes as if he knows direct eye contact makes him uncomfortable. “Will you let me try?”

Magnus tries. Alec tries to let him. It doesn't go particularly smoothly.

Letting go of decades worth of strict conditioning isn't that easy, especially when you're not sure at all that you want to. When maybe it's the only thing holding you together.

If it really is a mask, then who is Alec once it is taken off? How does he own up to the parts of him he doesn't allow to pierce through, even behind closed doors?

Is there anything left of him that wasn't ripped away by training?

He's better off going on like he always has, he decides the third time a casual gesture from Magnus makes him panic. It doesn't send him gasping into a tight corner of the bathroom this time, because fuck, Alec has better control of himself than that. He just freezes in place until Magnus hurriedly backs off. He just thinks about nothing else for the rest of the day.

He just hates himself a little more.

“Alexander,” Magnus says softly that night, as Alec slides into bed with him. Dread pools in Alec’s stomach, a sharp contrast with the softness of the satin sheets around him. He pulls the weighted blanket over himself, even though a part of him want to deny himself this comfort.

Magnus noticed his slip-up earlier, because how could he not? Alec feels awful about hurting him every time he shies away from a kind and thoughtful gesture.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he makes the first move. It’s easier than staring at his hands and waiting for the blow.

At the edge of his vision, Magnus’ eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“I tried to stop. I tried to be more...natural, or something, like you said. But I can’t.”

Magnus tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Alex can’t bring himself to look up at him, and he doesn’t know anymore if it’s because he’s ashamed, or simply because sometimes looking at Magnus, at his beauty and his shine and his compassion, is too much.

“I don't know how to do it,” he sighs. “This is who I am, Magnus. I need this...control, this grip on myself to function, otherwise I just fall apart. I don't know how to be anything else.”

“Alexander, I'm not asking you to be.”

Alex looks up in surprise, briefly meeting glamoured brown eyes. But Magnus’ eyes, real shape or not, are not where he gets his cues – they’re too intense, too confusing. No, it’s in the slight tilt of his mouth, the way his hand plays with the golden sheet, the furrow in his brow. Alec relaxes minutely.

“You’re not?”

“It would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” Magnus smiles softly, dropping his glamour. “All I want is for you to be comfortable, to be happy.”

Alec gently slips his arm under Magnus’ head in place of his pillow, feeling the weight of his boyfriend settle in the crook of his elbow. There’s a measure of relief there, the part of himself that always waits for the other shoe to drop, for the moment Magnus will tire of him, contented for now. “I am comfortable,” he murmurs. “Happier than I’ve ever been. There’s always going to be days that are harder than others.”

“Of course,” Magnus smiles. “But I want to do everything in my power to make even those a little less bad for you. I actually had a thought.”

“Um?” Now that his tension is fading a little, Alec feels like he could fall asleep. He shakes himself a little to stay attentive to Magnus’ words.

“What if it’s not about you changing something, dropping some kind of mask, but about adding something?”

“What do you mean?” Alex frowns, struggling to follow.

Magnus shifts a little against his arm, and grabs his hand. Rather than caress it with the tips of his fingers, like he sometimes likes to do, he squeezes it between his own hands.

“The things you do to...regulate yourself, your emotions, your...overloads,” Magnus starts. Alec can tell that he’s hesitating because he’s afraid of freaking him out, not because he doesn’t know how to word it. “They’re important. Necessary.”

Alec opens his mouth to argue, but no words come. He can’t actually deny that. He might hate himself for needing it, for needing the finger biting or the rocking or the myriad other little things he does that are frowned upon, but it gets so much worse when he tried to forbid himself that comfort. That’s what gets him to the gym or up on the roof, training until his hands are dripping blood. It’s how he ends up screaming himself raw in his pillow, hitting his head against the headboard of his bed until he’s too lightheaded to continue.

“From what I understand,” Magnus says slowly, squeezing Alec’s hand tighter, probably to check that he’s still listening, “there’s much more to that than the impulses your parents tried to train you out of. It’s about regulating sensory inputs, but also about...interacting with your environment. And I thought that it’s something we could explore together. Try to find new things that help and comfort you, rather than change what you already do.”

Alec closes his eyes, trying to process the sentence. The shine of the golden satin sheets against the light, their mixed scents in the bed, Magnus’ skin against his, he wants to get rid of it all so he can understand what Magnus is saying. Instead, he turns his hand around until he’s the one holding Magnus’. Magnus hasn’t removed his rings before bed like he usually does, he notices absently as he starts playing with them.

Magnus gives him a tiny smile. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“You’re not like me,” Alec says. “How can we do this together? I don’t want everything to be about me.”

“Of course not,” Magnus fake-scoffs. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Right. Seriously, though.”

“I meant it, when I said I want to meet you in the middle. Right now, you do most of the work of coming in my direction and I let you, because I don’t understand or because this translation is second nature to you by now. But I want to move in your direction too. Learn about how you experience the world. And maybe take some of that pressure off of you.”

“Magnus–” Alec starts. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He’s not sure he knows what Magnus’ words mean, but he knows that this is a gift he never expected. He’s never even entertained the idea of someone else wanting to know him to that extent.

“I don’t know what it’s like, to be different the way you are,” Magnus says, stroking his arm with the hand Alec isn’t playing with. “But as a Downworlder, and a South Asian man in America, and an openly bi man who wears makeup, I do know what it’s like to live in a world that isn’t built for you, that doesn’t welcome someone like you. And I know that it can be very lonely. But you’re not alone, Alexander. Not anymore.”

Alec doesn’t feel the tears running from his eyes until his vision starts blurring, but he sees them mirrored in Magnus’ eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like to be any of those things,” he murmurs. “But you’re not alone either.”

And that’s the greatest gift they can offer each other.

“I think you might enjoy this,” Magnus says in the morning, over breakfast, holding out a little box. It’s Alec’s day off, so they have plenty of time to enjoy the morning – and to talk things through. Last night’s conversation went a long way toward making Alec feel better, but there’s still plenty to discuss.

He takes the box Magnus just conjured and opens it. Inside is a toy shaped a little like a spring, with alternating segments of black and white steel. Alec takes it out and it comes apart like an endless serpent, the segments articulated with each other. “What is it?”

“It’s a fidget toy,” Magnus answers. “I believe it’s called a tangle. I tried to make it visually pleasing, they’re usually made of brightly colored plastic.”

Alex smiles. “What is it for, though?” he asks, but his hands have already figured it out. Unconsciously, he’s started to tangle it around his fingers, spinning the curved segments around to change its shape.

“Having something to do with your hands?” Magnus offers hesitantly. “Please tell me if it’s making you uncomfortable. I don’t want to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Alec interrupts him. “I like it.” Given the sheer amount of time he spends wringing his hands or worrying at his nails, it might even be useful, though he doesn’t think he can get away with carrying it around at the Institute. “What?” he asks when Magnus keeps staring at him.

“Nothing,” Magnus shakes his head. “I honestly wasn’t expecting this to go so smoothly.”

Alec hangs his head in shame. He’s been making Magnus’ life hard, with his stupid panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that I didn’t appreciate your efforts.”

“No, no. I kept springing it on you with no warning. I was wrong to try to do this without talking it through with you the whole way.” Magnus gestures toward the couch area, where the pile of books is still growing. “After reading all this stuff, I think I forgot that we weren’t on the same wavelength, that just because I thought I’d figured something out, it didn’t mean you were ready for me to act on it. I tried to make gestures to show you that I understand you but...well, the truth is that I don’t. I’ll never understand some of you, and some will take time for me figure out.”

Alec opens his mouth to protest, but Magnus holds out a hand. “But this isn’t about understanding,” he continues. “It’s about accepting. It’s about standing by you and supporting you no matter how little I understand what’s happening in your head. I was still trying to force these things on you because I thought that, since I’ve read those books, I knew something of what you might need, but I don’t. You do. I should have asked you.”

Alec stares and works his jaw, a little stunned. His hands have figured out how to restore the tangle to its original shape of a spring, and he swirls it around one finger. “Thank you,” he says eventually, at a loss for words. It’s a lot. Magnus’ openness, his apology, is far from anything he braced himself for, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Magnus asks softly.

“Of course.” They still haven’t touched the breakfast they sat at the table for, but the beauty of magic is that they don’t need to worry about it getting cold.

“You didn’t react when I first got the books. Did you know what I was doing?”

Alec squeezes the tangle toy around his fingers, until it hurts a little. The pain helps him focus. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I never…I never had a word. For it. I've heard of autism, but I didn't...I don't know, make the connection? Not really. But then you...suddenly it was like...you were doing everything right. Things you shouldn't have known to do. Things that no one has ever done.”

He pauses, but Magnus doesn't try to speak, just lets him gather his thoughts.

“Like right now,” Alec chuckles. “Like you know that I struggle with talking sometimes. But you're not supposed to know that.”

“I'm not?” Magnus asks. “Because I knew, long before I read anything. I just didn't know what to do.”

Alec tilts his head. “You did?” They're going a little off track here, and he's lost the thread. But his surprise is real.

“Of course. You thought I never noticed?”

“People mostly don't. Except Izzy, she picks up on it more easily.”

“Then why is it so strange for me to pick up on it?” Magnus asks.

Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a lot of expectations, coming into this relationship. I don’t have much to compare it to, you know?”

Magnus smiles. “Ah, right. Well, a life the length of mine gives you plenty of time to better understand the human psyche. And yet, you still surprise me every day.”

“Because I’m...autistic?” Alec feels his cheeks heat up. He’s never said the word before, never applied it to himself. It’s a strange feeling. It doesn’t roll quite right on his tongue, and yet it feels right, in a way. He’s autistic, and the implications of that are overwhelming.

“Because you’re autistic,” Magnus repeats pensively. “Because you’re selfless and beautiful and funny. Because you’re sarcastic and you say things I don’t expect, and you stand your own ground when by all rights you should be falling apart, and you fluster adorably when I try to flirt. Because you’re you, Alexander. And yes, your autism is a part of it.”

The changes are subtle, and they don’t make a huge impact on their relationship. Alec is incredibly relieved by that. Bit by bit, he stops expecting Magnus to realize that he’s too much to handle and get tired of him.

“I’m the one who’s usually too much,” Magnus tells him darkly, when Alec opens up about that particular fear.

There’s a well of emotions in his eyes when he says that that they’ll need to explore, at some point. Magnus has a lot of baggage, too, a long history of sticking out. Of being different. On days like this, Alec can’t remember how he ever thought that Magnus wouldn’t understand.

“It’s a good thing I can never get enough of you, then,” he offers simply, for now. Magnus isn’t ready to talk about it yet, about the people who’ve hurt him.

Magnus’ face softens immediately. “You really are a delight,” he smiles.

Alec beams at him and goes back to the book he’s holding. He’s very slowly making his way through the pile of books Magnus bought. Most of them aren’t meant to be read cover to cover anyway, and he’s currently picking through an anthology of texts by autistic writers.

He’s learning a lot. So much more than he expected, going in. He figured, he may not have had a word for it before, but he already knows himself, right? But there’s new words to put on things he’s never even thought about, new ideas to try, a whole new understanding of the world around him. Sure, he knows himself, but it turns out that he knows everyone else a lot less well than he thought he did.

And there is the new, incredible feeling of being understood. That there’s someone out there, a whole community of someones, who resemble him in the ways he always thought he was alone. For that alone, the books are worth everything. It’s akin to the feeling he had the first times he snuck away from the Institute, as a teenager, to go read gay romances in a secluded corner of the local library.

Magnus’ understanding is just as precious. He doesn’t push for anything, only supports Alec quietly. Even now, as they sit together on the couch reading, he’s attentive to the way Alec reacts to his touch, tightening his loose hold on Alec’s thigh as soon as Alec starts squirming in discomfort. He redirects Alec’s restless hand from tapping a pattern on his thigh toward his own beaded bracelets, offering them as a stim toy without even seeming to think about it.

Alec tries to focus on his book. The text is about flapping, and special education forbidding it. It’s poignant, but it’s not something Alec can really relate to. And yet, he’s been stuck on it for ten minutes, trying to pinpoint why his brain just won’t move on.

It finally comes in the form of memories. Stop moving your hands around and pay attention! Can’t you just stay still for once? It’s in Mom and Dad’s voices, in Hodge’s, every instructor Alec had before he successfully trained himself out of stimming and perfected his parade rest. He even heard it, full of annoyance, from Izzy – Jace came into their lives later, when Alex was already a good little soldier. But even know, his hands itch to clasp behind his back, and he unconsciously straightens his posture.

No.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, seemingly casual, but Alec can tell that he’s paying close attention.

Alec shrugs, words failing him. How can he explain the storm of emotions inside him? His fingers twitch again and he stares at them, and behind them, at the book.

Flapping is the new terrorist-fist-bump, he reads.

Shadowhunters are always in full control of their movements, echoes in his head. A long-learned lesson. But no one ever asked of Izzy and Jace to stop laughing or joking or brooding or crying, not when they’re off the clock. That was only required of Alec. Because the way Alec behaves isn’t normal.

Because the way Alec communicates makes them uncomfortable.

Alec feels nausea gripping his stomach. He wants to cry, to scream – to move. “Alexander,” Magnus starts, sensing the change.

Alec shakes his head to stop him and he closes the book, firmly. “I want to try something,” he announces, like saying it aloud will unclench the part of him that’s rearing in terror right now.

“Go ahead, darling,” Magnus drawls, and maybe it’s the permission Alec needs.

He stares at his hand for a moment, and carefully, purposefully makes it flutter. It's like he doesn't know how, like something his body has forgotten how to do. He thinks of his bow, of the sting of the string against his fingers and flexes them, hitting the tips against his palm. The memory isn't quite there, but there's something, something right about it. His fingers find his other palm, his left hand, tapping softly there. He closes his right hand into a fist, and taps his knuckles against his left palm, listening to the soft noise it makes.

“How does it feel?” Magnus asks, his voice low like he doesn't want to interrupt the moment.

Alec shakes his head. “I don't know. It's like...I don't know how to do this. It doesn't feel natural.”

“You don't have to flap your hands to be autistic, you know. Or to be yourself.”

“I know, but...I think I could? I don't know if that makes sense.” He taps his hands some more, palm against palm, harder.

“It doesn't have to make sense,” Magnus smiles. “Just to feel right.”

Does it feel right? It feels ridiculous, childish, not suitable for a grown man. It feels like a rebellion, a fuck you to all the times he’s been told to sit still, to stop moving. It feels artificial and yet like it comes from deep inside at the same time. Something repressed and almost gone, an echo of a feeling long forgotten. Something he can learn again, and maybe learn himself in the process.

It feels forbidden. Terrifying.

It feels right.

#shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood fic #magnus bane fic #shadowhunters fic #mine #echo's fanfiction

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twelvedozenterrors · 3 years ago

Text

1. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

There’s more than likely going to be traces of dirt in whatever Henri's scent is composed of throughout the day from being out and about (what hatchling wouldn't?), and of course any firebreathing lifeform is bound to smell like smoke around their mouth. Expect to catch hints of tar or gunpowder when the Peace Keeper tots have been doing things they shouldn't be doing.

2. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Think of them as like a sphynx kitten’s paws without any wrinkles - tender, as to be expected of a baby, and they’re still so small that you’d barely be able to tell that they were coated in scales with how smooth they are. Although, with all that sand around where she lives, there may occasionally be some scratches or rough patches. Just watch out for their claws - sharpness synergises well with being narrow.

3. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙮?

Dragons at this age are probably a little too young for most hard foods, even if they’ve had a few teeth since birth. Fruit and meat comprise a large portion of their diet, but the heavier meals are often left for later during the day. Rabbit and vulture are more commonly eaten in the Peace Keeper world than they are elsewhere in the Dragon Realms.

4. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚?

Yeah, no. Not even an Artisan would be able to sing well at their age - most of the hatchlings are tone-deaf from inexperience, and too young to have a broad range of pitch.

5. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨?

Curiosity and a lack of foresight, obviously. Being quadrupedal has its issues - half the time, baby dragons will forget that they use their hands to walk and end up making anything they hold grotty from residual dirt or whatever facial fluids their little claws are currently coated with. Henri in particular has a track record of letting envy or her temper get the best of her; and any hatchling - Peace Keeper or not - struggles to resist taking advantage of the unusual viscosity of tar for their own amusement.

6. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 / 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧?

Clothes aren’t usually a huge thing for most juvenile dragons unless they’re playing. Some of the girls will wear ribbons and some need to wear glasses - but other than hats, that’s as far as accessories tend to go. Living in a temperate region means that Henri and her brethren don’t need to wear warm clothing very often outside of winter, or a trip to somewhere frigid like Ice Cavern or a Magic Crafter realm.

7. 𝙄𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤?

Henri isn’t one of the overly affectionate Peace Keeper hatchlings. She enjoys being held, most baby dragons do, but she won’t be the one to initiate snuggle time. If Henri’s got a favourite amongst her caretakers, she hasn’t made it evident yet.

8. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣?

Too many to count. Some of the most frequent amongst the hatchlings are the sorts you’d expect to see from a kitten - curled up with their tails against their nose, lying on their backs or sides, or just sprawled out. If they’re left to go to sleep on their own, you can expect to see some sleeping tightly against each other side by side or hugging...or in a pile atop one another. Really, their horns are the only factor that limits the positions they'll assume - and Henri doesn't have to worry as much as some do with those shapes.

9. 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢?

Especially when they’re running about, excited, crying, angry, startled or strongly experiencing just about any sort of emotion. A lack of volume control (intentional or not) goes hand in hand with little kids - even with all of the different personalities people can have.

tagging: @bxideal, @gnorcx, @rxignitxd-dragons, @the-purple-hero

Tagged by: @thekrakenguard

#ooc #henri #dash games

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skinks · 5 years ago

Note

Please Please talk to me about Maggie Tozier and what she’s like and looks like and what Dilfworth Tozier loves about her and made him put a ring on it and in general how much her two boys love her and how she loves them.

[cracks knuckles] here we go

I was looking through my copy of the book yesterday to answer this ask but then I figured, y’know what? Canon can suck it. I tend to beat myself up over accurate characterisation for Richie and Eddie, but they’re main characters, Maggie and Went are not, so the details are inconsequential. Their ages in the Dilfworth fic mean that they’d have a pretty different life experience from their book versions, what with growing up in the 60s/70s, but imo all that matters is that they love Richie and are good parents. Canon is ours now!!!

- my no.1 headcanon rn is that Maggie sings like an angel, and sings all the time. In the car, in the shower, gardening, housework, cooking. She and Went have a pretty good record collection, but if Went is listening to something and hears Maggie singing to herself in another room of the house he shuts that shit off quick so he can hear her.

- I wrote in ithots that Richie busts out into song at the drop of a hat, right? well, where Richie gets encouragement with his Voices through Went participating, Richie gets his incessant singing from Maggie, because he grew up in a household where that was welcomed.

- Maggie doesn’t even notice she’s doing it until Richie joins in, or she turns around and sees Went gazing at her all dopey, and she gets self-conscious

- until Went is like “I don’t know why. You know I think you’re a songbird” and then grins and calls her Magpie. She says stop. He says, Maggie-pie? She throws a dishcloth at him but secretly loves it because she fell in love with how frank and practical he is most of the time, but also how silly he is only when it comes to her and Richie.

- he only calls her that when they’ve had one too many anyway, otherwise it’s all sweetheart, honey, darling, Mags. Marguerite, in Richie’s stupid French Waiter Voice. “Yes ma’am” for when he’s rearranging her guts. Maggie’s the one to call him “my love” the first time, but she said it kinda exaggerated and jokey, and Maggie just doesn’t joke the way Went and Richie do so Richie noticed the way his dad just cracked tf up and was like wow, Mom must be really, really funny

- so y’know how Richie calls Eddie “my love” in the book, and is generally quite physically affectionate? He picks all that up from his parents, watching their example. Wants to make Eddie laugh like that

- for some reason I always imagine she speaks like, French or Italian fluently. I’m stealing @honeyreynolds hc that her maiden name is Avery for Tex Avery, but maybe her own mother was European. She tries to speak French with Richie as a baby/toddler so that he’ll be bilingual, and she’s so proud/frustrated because he’s clearly smart and has a knack for linguistic imitation, but his attention span is just. Non existent

- still makes lil kid Richie giggle by doing exaggerated Italian and making him guess what she’s saying

- I think she’s pretty elegant and reserved and almost shy on the surface with a rly wry sense of humour, so people tend to think she’s snooty, but she’s just... so concerned with keeping the peace and not saying anything bad about someone. Tries to see the best in people. This can lead to a lot of embarrassment when Went is so upfront and medical-frank about stuff or if Richie’s being a dumbass in public, but really she just envies their typically masculine lack of inhibition

- this is because she’s got this killer wicked streak. Maggie’s got a hidden well of scathing diatribes and Went knows it because

- they met on a plane in 1971 when Maggie was flying back to college for her final semester of senior year, and the man in the seat next to her started having an attack of some kind. The stewardesses appeal desperately for any doctors on board, nobody answers. Anyone at all? We’ll have to land the plane! Maggie’s trying to slowly shift away from this man and his spasms without seeming rude when she hears a deep sigh in the seat behind her and someone saying “I’m ethically bound to admit I have a licence in dentistry,” in a voice like he’s in on some joke nobody else knows.

- this guy unfolds the longest legs she’s ever seen and comes to squat right next to her and her apparently dying seat partner, she notices he’s nice looking and keeps glancing at her, there’s banter. Eventually he shrugs and is like “imo this man has a bad case of wind.” And Maggie just TEARS Went a new one like oh nice diagnosis DOCTOR DENTIST where’s your seatside manner?!?! what kind of name is WENTWORTH anyway! and Went’s like 👀😳😍 and then the dying man lets out a giant fart and Maggie recoils, all her pretty poise and indignation turning to base disgust and Went bursts out laughing and offers her the seat next to him

- turns out his first residency is in the next town from Maggie’s college. She’s only dated preppy meatheads before who only ever tried to flatter her and stopped listening when she talked about her music theory degree or the books she likes. But Went always grins and side-eyes her and cranks the volume whenever Maggie May comes on the hits station, because then she’ll whack him with a book. She’s so SWEET he loves goading her into releasing some more of that plane rage, like one day she’s prowling on the edge of a rant about her TA and trying to be reasonable. Went’s like, do it. You’ll feel better. So she fuckin rants her head off for ten minutes until her hair’s all dark and wild like an Arthurian queen and she looks over at Went reclining all impressed on her dorm bed and he’s like. I have never been more in love in my life. Can you sit on my face and make fun of my name again

- so yeah they’re both like, quietly distinguished and outwardly calm model citizens of Derry but in private Went is the fuckin roastmaster and is Maggie’s outlet for frustration whenever housewife suburbia gets too much

- I always picture her as having dark and quite curled hair, sort of Lauren Bacall eyes, and she’s probably tall too. Like 5’8 to Went’s 6’0 or 6’1 which is why Richie turns out to be 6’2 lmao. A family of giants. Honestly the whole time I was writing the Dilfworth fic I was imagining Mary Elizabeth Winstead, that’s my early-30s Maggie that Went is so excited to come home he’s stocking up on condoms. God I bet she’s got some of those single dark beauty mark freckles on her stomach 🥵 Wears hats with big brims. Sundresses. Secretly likes to pretend she’s on a mysterious trip to Rome as she sits in the park watching Richie catch dragonflies. Maybe when she’s older and Richie’s a teenager she looks kinda like Olivia Williams, bc I’ve had a big milfy thing for her ever since she was the mother in the 2003 Peter Pan.

- most kids in Derry have a crush on either Richie’s mom or dad or both and this is unfortunately quite damaging to his self esteem, even though Maggie INSISTS he’s just so handsome. She hates seeing him so insecure

- she tried pot once in college and hated it. The only times she comes close to getting hammered is on book club wine because it’s the only way she can get through them asserting the female orgasm doesn’t exist, then she comes home mildly tipsy and joins in on Went and Richie’s raucous game of cards

- felt a bit left out when Richie was small, with how well Went was able to go along with the silliness. Went sees this and gets Richie to make up a game where she’s Queen Margaret of the Tozier Court and made Richie a knight. They all spoke in bad Medieval Voices all afternoon, and it becomes one of those super long-running family jokes, and Maggie still feels all happy inside whenever Queen Margaret comes up

- ruthless decision maker!!! She had to be, because Went’s so laidback he’s horizontal and is always like “idc what we do as long as you guys are chill” and Richie can’t concentrate long enough to pick what colour gumball he wants, so she has to be staff sargeant. They go to Disneyland and she’s like C’MON BOYS HUP HUP HUP and Went’s like “oh cripes son we’re being hustled!!” but they love it as much as she loves them doing what she says

- great cook because of her indeterminidely Mediterranean mother.

- she genuinely wants to understand Richie’s strangeness but is also stumped as to what to do to bond with him, since she can only think of things she’d do with a daughter. She WANTS to brush Richie’s curls and bake with him but she thinks he wouldn’t like it, so they stick with singing. Is delighted when Eddie very politely and very intensely asks for her help making Richie a birthday cake. She sees how different they are together, and remembers Richie coming home at 5 years old declaring he was gonna marry Eddie Kaspbrak when he grows up, and she thinks... well, if I must have a son-in-law, I would love this one as much as I love my son.

#maggie tozier #richie tozier #wentworth tozier #ficlet

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ceruleanchillin · 4 years ago

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Sandalwood (Bakugou x Reader)

A/N: I haven’t gotten super far into MHA, so I’m still learning the characters. I’m also reading the manga. I haven’t officially seen Dabi or Toga’s characters yet, so I’m going off what I’ve read in other fics and a little careful wiki browsing.

I also posted a chapter breaking down the AU on AO3, I’ll probably post it here later.

AO3

The water ran so hot, it began to fog up the small room and disperse the smell of sandalwood throughout it. You eagerly grabbed your loofah, and began scrubbing yourself sudsy. Every pass at your skin, and you felt your humanity being restored. Over your neck, down your arms, across your ribs, everywhere you touched turned to a patch of saccharine velvet.

You hummed, something more akin to a moan actually, and did another full pass just to feel the scalding warmth again. Eyes closed, and toes curled in your shower slippers, your relaxed mind pondered if you had enough time to really style your hair. Afterall, what girl didn’t enjoy a comforting bath ritual?

“Now serving number 1!”

Of course, other’s pampered bathing rituals probably didn’t take place in a supermarket bathroom near dawn.

The bakery section’s automated ticket taker had cut through your hazy thoughts like a knife, and you nearly dropped your loofah. If they were already beginning to receive more customers you didn’t have the bathroom to yourself much longer.

You scrambled to cleanse yourself of all suds, and drained the sink, hoping that would begin to reverse the fogginess.

Shoving all your toiletries into your oversized hobo bag, you ducked into a stall, and began to shove yourself into freshly washed

clothing.

God bless 24/7 laundry mats. Great for junk food dinners, plastic chair naps, and soft, detergent scented kisses with Bakugou at 4 am.

You were pretty sure your sweatshirt was on backwards, and your hair was still sloppily piled on top of your head, waiting to be deconstructed, but you didn’t care to fix either. You’d wasted your safe time, and didn’t want to risk being walked in on. One report by a disgusted customer, and you could kiss your current safe spot goodbye.

You ducked out into the tiny hallway of the restroom area, and smoothed your sweatshirt over your leggings, trying to appear less frantic and out of place.

‘Another successful bath day.’ you smiled, slipping your bag over your head. ‘I’m getting the hang of this.’

You checked the minimal amount of cash you had left, and figured it’d be enough for two muffins and maybe a shared coffee. You had earned it, and you knew your boyfriend would be happy to hear about your appetite balancing out.

Following the warm scents to the bakery section, you remained conscious of the fact that Bakugou would want what was left for gas, and picked with that in mind first.

The feeling of doing something so wholesome, so domestic, as picking up breakfast for your partner hit your person the same way indulging yourself in the bathroom had.

“Eww.” a cruel whisper-laugh made you instinctively turn to look behind you, and regret washed over you almost instantaneously.

Two girls your age stood behind you, eyes trained on your feet. You knew why immediately, but looked down anyways for confirmation you’d forgotten to trade your shower shoes for your slip ons.

‘They can’t know that I..’ you didn’t even finish your thought. Dirty from use as protection from unknown floors, they served their purpose, but betrayed you all the same.

‘Should I change them?’ you wondered, but could only imagine what looks that’d garner, no matter how discreet you could be.

You met their cold eyes, and couldn’t help but think they looked like porcelain dolls.

Three dolls stood at an impasse. Two, very expensive and impossibly perfect, that’d you display for envy. One, lovingly stitched, but you’d forget her in your toy chest.

You quickly turned to face front as your ticket was called and got your purchases. Hurt coursed through you, its white heat branding your insides, and undoing every good thought and feeling it touched.

Retrieving your purchases, and stuffing them into your bag, you headed for the entrance. It wouldn’t be long before Bakugou came to pick you up.

‘He wouldn’t have put up with that’ you thought sourly, frustrated with yourself once again for not possessing the bottomless well of anger your boyfriend pulled his strength from.

You may scold him about it, but you couldn’t deny that at times, it was an asset. However, that just wasn’t your person. You didn’t want to hurt, or be hurt for that matter.

You fought off your tears successfully, but at the cost of stinging sinuses and a minor headache. Wincing as natural light conquered artificial, you stepped out onto the pavement. The parking lot was coming to life compared to when Bakugou dropped you off, and you plopped on the curb to quickly swap out your shoes.

“Cute bag!” a cheery voice chirped, and you noticed a girl next to you.

Had she been there the whole time? You didn’t see how you could’ve missed her, but you had been upset. Blonde spacebuns, dark purple fishnets, and...jesus was she that cold? A heavy red that stretched from cheek to cheek.

You looked at her, thought her eyes looked a little crazed, and then instantly felt bad. Had you not just been shamed based on appearances?

“Thanks.” you responded shyly, trying to straighten your hair. “Thrifted it.”

“Nice!” she screeched, uncaring of the hour. “My stupid friends never wanna go to thriftstores.”

You winced at the volume, but still found her amusing. “You’ve gotta go to Moon Over Mona’s , she’s got the best stuff.”

The girl mouthed the store’s title and rolled her eyes up as if burning it into her brain, before she widened her grin and turned her glazed over eyes back to you. “Noted! I’m Himiko.”

“(Y/N).” you smiled gently

“Oh wow, me too.” she patted your bag softly, as if it were a child, or perhaps a cat.

You tilted your head in question at her odd statement.

“Homeless silly, there’s no hiding things from me.” she rolled her eyes to emphasise the ‘duh’ in her tone. “I mean, I couch hop sometimes, but yeah…..”

You cringed and looked out over the parking lot. You didn’t like to use that word, it made your circumstances seem so ugly, and sounded like something your parents would say to shame you back into their home. But wasn’t that what you, and mostly all of your friends, were?

“It’s not a sweeeear word.” Himiko nudged your knee with her own. “It’s whatever to be free right?”

“That is a...perk I guess.” you chuckled, your inclination towards happier thoughts easily being indulged by talking with the girl.

“Exactly!” she slapped your arm, neon green nails standing out in stark contrast to her threadbare black hoodie.

“Sooooooo listen,” she pressed her pointer fingers together, blush intensifying. “Can I hold a dollar or two? My friend is picking me up here soon, and he’s a super stingy bitch. I want to eat something today.”

She dramatically flopped on the concrete behind her, hands rubbing her thin stomach.

You chewed your lip. Bakugou hated when you were ( a free handed sucker ) too generous. You really should save that remaining 10 dollars to give him for gas.

Himiko popped up onto her knees and gave you puppy eyes. Before long, she began imitating a dog altogether. She panted and lolled her tongue until you were laughing at the display and the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Ok, ok. “ you laughed, reaching into your bag for your wallet. Neon green nails appeared in your view before they seized the entirety of the wad of bills from your wallet.

The girl bolted the moment her fist clenched around the cash.

“Hey!” you screamed, chest exploding with anxiety, as you took off after her.

One of your slip ons came off, and your bag’s contents took turns beating into your sides every time it came back against your side.

The girl had bolted across the parking lot, and she was faster than you by far. A pickup truck on the far end of the parking lot roared to life, and she’d hopped in by the time you caught up.

“I really do love your bag!” Himiko screamed out of the window as it peeled out of the parking lot.

You dropped to your knees, frantically trying to figure out what just happened.

‘You got robbed you idiot.’ anxiety had wrapped its vice grip around you, and now your thoughts sounded like a drill sergeant with a hard on for you. Had she been planning that all along, or had she’d seen something in you once you started talking? Had she been watching you since you’d gotten dropped off? Your mind raced with the hows and whys, until you thought of your boyfriend.

Once you realized how angry and disappointed Bakugou was going to be, the tears you’d tried to ward off came spilling forth. He was always breaking his back and risking his freedom for what little money you two held between you, and you’d stupidly gone and gotten it stolen. How many times had he’d told you that this wasn’t the first day of kindergarten? How many times had he warned you about befriending strangers?

He was going to finally realize you were more of a burden than a compliment and drop your sorry ass. Your most feared thought only made the tears come harder, and you clutched your bag to yourself pathetically to ground yourself in the swirl of panic.

People warily watched you, taking in your sad appearance. The feeling of their eyes giving you the same looks as those girls was almost too much to bear. Worry, but more so disgust, for the teary eyed girl with one shoe and messy hair. The girl with her life in her bag, crying over money they’d likely spend in their first few minutes of shopping.

“What’s wrong with you goddamned animals!? You see a girl crying in the street and you stare? Braindead, mouth breathing-” the rest of the swear laden rant was lost to you as you leaned into the familiar strength that yanked you from the ground.

“Katsuki.” you murmured appreciatively as he slipped your missing shoe on your barefoot.

“Come on baby.” you knew he was burning with questions, and they would go stalled, not forgotten, as he wanted you away from the now sufficiently shamed onlookers.

The smell of caramel surrounded you, and the morning’s chill began to dissipate in light of the car’s heat. Home.

By the time you were settled in the mustang’s passenger seat, your tears had slowed, but you were still in the trenches of dread.

“Who the hell hurt you?” Bakugou slammed his door, but made no moves to leave the area. You knew he wouldn’t until he got answers.

“What did they do baby? Give me a description of em’. Did you catch a name?”

Your cheeks glistened in the rising sunlight, and for a moment he was struck by how beautiful you were, but that only served to make him madder. He gripped the battered steering wheel, open..close..open...close, so he could try and ease the tremors in his hands. All he could picture was punching some faceless guy’s face into paste on a pavement, and...why the hell weren’t you talking?!

“(Y/N)!”

“It was me!” you cried. “I-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” his scowl scrunched into confusion, before it returned to its previous state. “Don’t you dare start that blaming yourself shit. If somebody hurt you-”

“I tried to give this g-girl two dollars, and she snatched all I had and ran. I think she planned it, there was a p-p-pickup truck. ” you hiccuped, hating every second you had to spend retelling the encounter.

Bakugou stared at you, eyes wide and unbelieving for a moment, and you wished your seat would swallow you whole. It could spit you out anywhere so long as it wasn’t there.

“You what?” he growled lowly.

“Katsuki I-I swear I’m sorry.” the hiccups continued. “I’ll make it back-”

“Dammit (Y/N)!” he slammed his hands on the steering wheel, and another scuff joined the rest. “How many times have I told you?!”

“I know.” you sobbed. “I just...she was so nice-”

“Manners of the fucking year robbing you and all!”

Unable to meet his heated crimson gaze and you leaned against the window. The chill outside pressed against the glass, begging to compete with the heat being generated inside of the car. You pressed your warm face further into its chill, trying to ignore the charged energy emanating from the seat next to you. He must’ve really been pissed not to scold you about doing that to his car baby.

“I’m sorry Katsuki..I just felt like shit and wanted to help somebody.” your words were muffled due to half your mouth being mashed into the glass, but he didn’t ask you to repeat yourself.

He didn’t say anything until a few minutes had passed, and it was you who had to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said...I said I’m getting you a bus ticket home.”

He’d done it. He’d voiced the thing you’d wanted to hear least. You’d rather him yell for hours than talk like this.

“Katsuki...” you peeled yourself from the window and turned to face him. “No!”

“ Yes .” he turned his gaze to you, the red roiling with anger still, but sharing its space with sadness now. “It’s selfish of me to keep you out here, you don’t belong on the streets.”

“I belong wherever you are.” you implored, turning your whole body towards him.

You didn’t like the way he was talking at all. He would sometimes say something about sending you back to your parents, until you’d remind him you were grown and shut him up with a kiss. This felt more final however, and you couldn’t stand it.

“You were crying in the street over 10 damn dollars (Y/N). I’m supposed to take care of you!” Bakugou’s entire being was threaded together by his pride and his word. The whole situation was killing him from one end to the other. His mind was relieved you hadn’t been attacked, screaming at him to find the girl and whoever else was involved, and demanding he scrounge together bus fair and get you the fuck away from him.

“You do!” tears bloomed in your eyes again, this time for entirely different reasons. “ Baby , you do.”

You scrambled into his lap, ignoring your inner thighs getting battered by the console in your haste to surround your man. Bakugou didn’t fight your intrusion, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze again either.

Slim fingers threaded through his wild, ash blond spikes, tugging until he was forced to look you in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me leave, I won’ t .” you thumbed his cheekbones. “Tell me you want me gone.”

He didn’t and you both knew he wouldn’t say that, not like that. A frustrated sigh fled his lips as he flexed his fingers. Of course he didn’t want you gone, he barely wanted to leave you alone to take a piss most days.

The fingers of one hand danced across your back gently, before firmly bringing you closer to him. His other hand grasped your chin and so he could press his lips to yours in a kiss. It was angry, but you wanted it all the same, understanding the anger wasn’t for you. You got what you wanted, which was physical comfort and putting to bed any silly ideas of separation.

“I don’t want to see you like that again.” he murmured against your lips. “You deserve better than that. I need to give you better than that.”

“ I need to be with you, that’s what I deserve.” You cupped his cheeks initiating another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah.” he kissed a path over your face, stopping when he reached your temple. “You’re a dumbass for staying, and I’m a dumbass for letting you.”

End Note: This once happened for real, sort of. A girl was having a full on cry fit on the floor of Walmart’s entrance and nobody helped until my mom stepped in and asked what she could do for her. So yeah..if you were wondering why no one helped the reader, I guess sometimes people don’t.

#reader insert #bakugou x reader #BNHA #MHA #Au #mha au #bakugou katsuki

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choiceswreckedme · 5 years ago

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The Pep Talk

@choicesnovemberchallenge Day 12: Anxiety

Book: Mother of the Year

This is a continuation of Day 7′s fic The Visit

@debramcg1106 @burnsoslow @mskaneko @dcbbw @darley1101 @indiacater @cora-nova - if you don’t want me to tag you, please let me know!

“That’s too much,” Thomas muttered to himself, yanking the double Windsor knot out. The silk tie lay dangling against the fabric of his gray shirt, freshly pressed and just picked up from the dry cleaners. He stared at his reflection for a moment before ripping the tie off and throwing it onto the bathroom counter.

Thomas walked back into the bedroom and sat heavily on the bed, hanging his head. This was a mistake. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready, no matter what he’d tried to fool himself into thinking that morning. That dream was so real though, and his feelings for Amelia had seemed crystal clear when he awoke. Now those feelings of doubt were creeping in, clouding his judgement and muddling his emotions.

Reaching over, he lifted his phone from where he’d tossed it on the bed. Turning it over in his hands, the small device felt like a brick, a weight matching the one crushing his chest at the thought of hurting Amelia again. He’d pushed her away too many times, and he resolved that tonight would be the last. He would cancel, explain that she deserved better (who could argue that?), and let her go. She would find someone better, someone who’s heart was whole and could give her everything. Someone like her neighbor, Levi, probably --

Thomas gritted his teeth and unclenched his fist from around his phone. He had no right to be jealous if he couldn’t commit to her. Rational thought was something he usually prided himself on, but the thought of another man’s hands on her body, kissing her lips, waking up to her beautiful face in the morning after a night spent making love . . . it drove him out of his mind with envy.

Throwing the phone back in the direction of his pillow, Thomas leaned forward to bury his hands in his thick hair. He had no idea what to do. One minute he was sure this wasn’t going to work out and the next he wanted to punch a man he’d only met once for daring to smile at Amelia.

“Hey, Dad, do you know --” Luz pulled up short at the sight of her father hunched over on his bed. “Woah. Are you okay?”

The concern in her little voice made Thomas whip his head up. He plastered on as convincing a smile as he could.

“Hey you, I’m fine. I was just going to make a quick call then we can hang out, okay?”

He stood and grabbed his phone again. Bringing up Amelia’s number from his contact, his thumb hovered over the tiny green call icon.

“Hey, Dad?”

Luz looked at her father with a mixture of confusion and worry. “Why are you all dressed up? You’re wearing nice clothes and you aren’t at work.” She frowned. “You never do that.”

He laughed despite himself. “So you’re saying I never look nice?” Luz rolled her eyes.

“No! But you look extra nice tonight,” her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, “like you’re trying to impress someone.” Recognition dawned on her face.

“ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE?”

Thomas cringed, at both his daughter’s volume and her perceptiveness. Damn. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with her, but he always promised her that he would be honest with her, even if the truth wasn’t always what she wanted to hear. Looking Luz in the eye to gauge her emotions, Thomas gently answered her question.

“I was going to, honey. But I’m not now. I decided to cancel.”

A frown creased Luz’s round face. “Uhhh why?”

“Well, I thought that maybe I was ready, and I met someone who--”

“Ugh, no!” Luz cried, exasperated. “Why are you CANCELING?”

“Luz, indoor voice, please,” Thomas cautioned. He ran a hand through his hair. Jesus, he never thought he would be asking his nine-year-old for dating advice. “I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

He sat heavily on the bed, resuming his previous position.

Luz watched her father quietly. She hated when he was upset, like he was when her mom first died, or when he took that big case with the car people. But lately, he seemed like he was happier. She figured it was because of Bella’s mom. Amelia was pretty cool, so she understood why her dad wanted to be friends with her. Plus, she made her dad smile, which earned her TONS of bonus points. Yeah, if her dad wanted to go out with Bella’s mom, that would be okay. Besides, he needed friends, too. He couldn’t just hang out with Luz all the time - she needed her space!

“Daddy, do you like Bella’s mom?”

Thomas’s gaze flicked up to meet Luz’s guileless stare. His daughter was too damn smart for her own good, always figuring out what was on his mind, sometimes before even he knew himself. She was just like her mom in that regard.

“Come here and sit, Lulu,” Thomas patted the spot next to him. Luz flung herself on the bed, rolling to a stop next to his thigh with a big grin. He ruffled her curls with a smile. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?” Luz nodded emphatically. “Then, yeah, I like Bella’s mom a lot. But I still really love your mom. So it’s complicated, and I’m afraid of messing things up.”

Luz shook her head sagely. “Daddy, you always say that we should try things that scare us once in awhile, as long as we’re careful.” She patted his leg. “I think you should go on a date with Bella’s mom, even if you’re scared. It will be good for you.”

Thomas stared down at his little girl, heart full to bursting with love. Some days he couldn’t believe he’d had a hand in creating this perfectly imperfect little girl next to him. He hauled her up from her position on the bed and gave her a big bear hug.

“Thank you, Lulu. You give the best advice.” Thomas blew a raspberry on his daughter’s cheek, making her shriek and squirm to get away.

“Daddy! Gross! You spit all over me!” She ran from the room hollering, just as the doorbell rang.

“Hey Lisa!” Thomas heard Luz greeting the babysitter. “My dad’s got a DATE TONIGHT!”

Chuckling to himself, he picked up his phone and dialed Amelia’s number. Thank god he hadn’t called Lisa to cancel.

“Thomas?” Amelia’s voice carried through the phone, tinged with disappointment. “You’re canceling, aren’t you?”

His heart dropped to his feet, ashamed that he’d given such an amazing woman so few reasons to trust him.

“No way,” Thomas replied confidently. “I needed a pep talk, but we are definitely still on. Just wanted to ask you a quick question: tie or no tie?”

#choices november challenge #choices moty #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #thomas mendez x mc #thomas mendez #fluff #a little angst

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clklclkl · 4 years ago

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Curtains Hairstyles: Why They Work

There Are Lots of Things that affect If Not a particular necklace suits you well. That person contour is just one. Just how to style is just another. If you should be thinking of a premier knot, then if you are really a high-value samurai warrior needs to really be described as a thirdparty. Nevertheless, the most important thing is that your hair .

The hereditary makeup of One's own locks decides What you could do together and also obedient it really is if styling. And if many adult men (horribly frustrating types ) possess the complete, glistening mop which will rival Samson's locksothers need to work really hard to continue to keep their pores appearing semi-presentable along with semi-present.

In the Event You Would like to Do your crowning glory Lawyers, you then want to find particular and provide your hair the bespoke therapy. This is exactly the reason why we have exploited the recommendation of business specialists to learn exactly what you could certainly do along with your own hair sort, regardless of what your mama gave you.

Thick Hair

Scrub baldness would be your poisoned chalice of baldness Type s. Superficially, it truly is some thing to be envied, without a sign of male pattern hair thinning. What exactly the haters don't comprehend, although, is the fact that having top-notch, outstanding human anatomy stems great obligation never to check just like you have set to the podium in Crufts.

"Thick hair comes in several types (wavy and Soft, thick and wiry, or curled and rough ) however it's principally evidenced with fullness," claims Ruffians inventive director Denis Robinson. "This usually means that this particular hair type might sometimes feel uncontrollable and needs routine reductions to maintain shape"

The Very Most Useful Hair-cuts For Curly Hair

Repairing thick hair really is about upkeep. In the event you have obtained a large amount of clean up high, you will have to Hotfoot it to the beverage store over a normal foundation. The very fantastic thing is the fact that you have got tons of choices for hair cuts.

Short term hair-cuts work extremely very well. But long hairstyles would be likewise fantastic for thick hair now," says Robinson. "The bodyweight the moment it becomes more will probably aid with preserving it inplace. Concealed internal levels are likewise a fantastic approach in order to add contour to more spans and soft texturising will soften the endings "

In summary (or maybe ) Should You've been pinpointed with A thick thatch, you are ready to perfect that a person bun, bask at a halo of shaggy levels or stone a shiny pompadour. Get the most of it.

The Most Effective Products To Get Thick Hair

Acquiring thick hair damn nicely Act it self is catchy as a couple of things are moving on who are trying to scupper your own success. "Scrub hair really is demonstrably weighty, Thus in the event that you're looking for elevate (a quiff as an example ) then employ mousse or gel into the origin spot and blow dry. When a milder fashion is needed, put on the item to moist hair to ensure that the item stays shape with out enlarging," Robinson states.

Scrub hair Is Also Very responsive into this Tools you are using overly, therefore brush extreme maintenance. "fashion thick hair to contour working with a wide-tooth comb following which the product was implemented, then apply a drier with a diffuser attachment to wash the hair to approximately 70 percent, permitting marginally wet hair to airdry," says Robinson.

Therefore, If you have obtained good teeth Bristle brushes on your own hair kit, eliminate right today.

Asian Hair

In Case You Have south or south Asian genes, then you are Probable in possession of those 2 valued qualities within an barnet. "Asian hair is more often glistening and can be often thick," claims Aveda resourceful manager Michael Lendon.

There is a catch nonetheless, That You likely Already understood. "It is harder with this particular specific hair variety to maintain fashions set up location by warmed gear without even other baldness solutions. Additionally, since the baldness develops it could eventually become thinner faster and more vulnerable to breakage, so" provides Lendon. Figuring out you can't ever possess all .

The Very Most Useful Hairstyles For Asian Hair

Due to This hair form's density, Vertical feats of both hair styling are more difficult to perfect, therefore for simplicity, so it is ideal to utilize gravity as opposed to contrary to it. "Sharp geometric contours satisfy pubic hair since they may hang nicely with little-to-no styling. A brief harvest can be a dramatic appearance that matches this particular hair sort," claims Lendon.

Try out a Quick sides and back together with Span in addition for nominal preservation, or take a lengthier rest which may be trapped supporting your ears in the event that you should be after longer period.

The Most Effective Solutions For Asian Hair

As Asian hair styles normally suffer with the The destiny to be thick and glistening, quantity is frequently the blind area. "developing further feel can be essential in Asian own hair," claims Lendon. "Utilizing a clay helps create definition however employ a formidable hair-spray to continue to keep fashions set up"

You will Have to change up your strategy to Styling however, based which appearance you bloated to. "For briefer Asian hair, arid the fashion that has a fantastic high quality hair drier and also employ a metallic barrelled around brush in order to add bounce and body. For more Asian hairstyles, then consider using warmth with tongs or curling irons so as to enhance shape and glow," claims Lendon.

"gloomy hair surpasses density and volume, is more limp And frequently you may start to see the entire scalp," claims hair-stylist Joseph Lanzante, operator of Manchester barber-shop The Men's area. The condition is you are perhaps not dumb , which in this situation isn't just a fantastic matter.

The Very Most Useful Hairstyles For Hair

"Males who have nice hair must make it Long Ish To put in weight since brief hairstyles may eventually seem as though they truly are inducing human anatomy," claims Lanzante. Sounds counter intuitive, however we are siding with all the pros with this particular.

In training,'Long-ish' baldness really is known as Ear-to-shoulder span, thus layered backless drapes or some mid-length sailed straight back style certainly are both fantastic alternatives to minimise the tyranny of locks that are dead.

The Most Effective Solutions For Hair

With nice hair, turning straw into gold will be Entirely potential due for the inventions of contemporary hair technology. Nice person, '' science fiction. "desire to of nice hair will be really to put in quantity, and it really is better achieved using a foul-smelling cream such as quantity, done having a sterile powder to density,''" claims Lanzante. Stay away from major, oily dressing services and products just like the plague, even although: when it appears like it is going to weigh down your hair, it is maybe not your own friend.

Do not douse your mind at that powder and Expect some thing will probably adhere; you still want a little bit of procedure . "Guys who have nice hair needs to make use of a spray brush plus also a hair drier, drying up side right down seriously to put in your body into the last type," provides Lanzante. Only look out to head-rush.

Wavy Hair

Wavy hair really is a Little Bit of the fence sitter, maybe not Capable to compose its mind on if it is straight or wavy, leaving people who have this specific hair type completely confused in regards to exactly what exactly the hell do for this. Enhance that the simple fact all waves differs and also you've got your self a quite varying barnet, '' says star hair-stylist Oliver J. Woods.

"Wavy hair really is your mid Point between directly And curled hair but has the potential to differ hugely regarding the dimensions and feel of this tide," he states. "Due to its irregular climbing pattern in comparison to hair that is straight cutting and styling require slightly bit more awareness of stay fit "

The Very Most Useful Hairstyles To Get Wavy Hair Growing

Go Away wavy hair on its own apparatus plus It Ends up seeming a little mess, as though you are an additional in Sport of Thrones. It requires direction and purpose.

"The very Optimal/optimally way to design hair thinning hair would be really to really go Short about the sides and back and on top to provide the hair a few shape and movement," says Woods. Keeping that in your mind, create cluttered plants or brief, textured quiffs your own go-to.

The Most Effective Products To Get Wavy Hair

You will Have to jumble up things to Kill-off #basicbarnet vibes. "A fantastic product or service to make use of wavy hair really is a sea-salt spray to provide feel, followed closely by means of a clay in order to complete away and maintain fit," provides Woods.

And do not Be Concerned about costly Barber-shop Combs or plug ins stylers. "the very top instruments for wavy hair really are only your palms and also a hair drier "

Afro Hair

Afro hair really is really a misleadingly Catch All Duration to get a hair variety that -- but akin in a sense -- is different hugely from 1 man for the following. Nevertheless, similarities don't exist. "Textured own hair includes curls that is often tight bows or muddy waves, different in depth," claims Lendon.

"like an Overall fashion, textured hair Isn't Commonly cylindrical, therefore that light isn't as readily mirrored, leading to a deficiency of glow. This hair variety is more prone to dryness, and which it takes compounds offering intense dampness "

The Best Finest Hairstyles For Afro Hair

The very Good Thing Is that, Due to its own Texture, obtaining afro own hair to stay placed is ordinarily straightforward. No dull blow drying as soon as you have received the ideal cuton. "Cuts with this particular specific hair type needs to generate a contour which is employed together all the curl layout," claims Lendon. "Request your barber to develop a contour predicated in your own curl sort, that'll dictate perhaps the clip is round, faded or square."

People who have curled curl designs Can Opt for some Blunt knee and also a fade onto either side, but in the event that you have smaller coils, then try out a brief but squared minimize top for today's spin on timeless nineties fashions.

The Most Effective Products To Get Afro Hair

Just before you think about What's Going to hold Your own hair fit, be certain that your moisture ranges are composed up. "Elect for services and products which specify curls whilst minimising frizz -- lotions are often the best selection," claims Lendon. "A curl enhancer can additionally distort the all-natural contour whilst taming frizz and heightening shine."

Afro own hair Desires a Little Bit More TLC than many Hair types since it truly is likely to breakage in case it's is not treated with caution, therefore remain tender. "decide to get a slatted Twist or paddle brush distribute styling services and products round the total mind and dry with a diffuser in a very low heating to minimise frizz and harm "

Unruly Hair

Mavericks are great in Some Specific vocations (fighter pilots, murder detectives) yet 1 place that you really do not desire to get one would be your own follicles. Refusing to be placed into a box, even unruly hair is tough to be the it will not usually set apartment or directly plus features a demanding cuticle coating, '' says Ruffians barber Stevie Warwicker.

"Unruly hair may generally Require some Type Of styling facet to maintain it looking cool " That was actually a silver lining, even however, as unruly hair has a great deal of texture, so that will be effective to the general final overall look -- hence that your glass is still rather half the full. Ish.

The Very Most Useful Hairstyles To Get Unruly Hair Growing

Unruly hair ceases becoming a hassle to utilize When you have secured the ideal mix of product and cut, states Warwicker. "Shorter and more hairstyles are simpler compared to medium-length hairstyles, also cuts have to possess texture and weight to improve manageability."

Assume shaggy face-framing mops or even a textured Shortback and sides. In case it feels dreadful, it is maybe not just only for you, kid.

The Most Effective Products To Get Unruly Hair

Just like an out of control adolescent, unruly hair Requirements a little bit of area to receive it onto the right (or curled ) and lean . "Lotion - and - anti inflammatory services and products support put moisture in time additionally decreasing frizz and fly away hair, and this is normal for all those who have this specific hair sort," claims Warwicker.

"A Hair Dryer and also a port brush can help Control unruly hair from smoothing the cuticle, enabling the hair to place level whilst minimising messiness." Take carefully your pores instructed.

Scrub Hair

From the Time of 50, it is estimated that the more Compared to threequarters of most men will probably possess receding or thinning hair into a level. If that is youpersonally, this could be the hairless (ing) very fact. "hair thinning is more prone to sense extra glossy and dull, that is likely to make hair texture lank and dead," Lendon states. "It may become complicated to acquire mass and also put in volume to. In a few instances, the duration of baldness could possibly be irregular."

If you are operating with these temperamental Tresseswe make it is tempting to give in and also hit to the hair strands, however avoid being quite as hasty.

The Very Top Hairstyles For Hair

"A Lower That's dull and over the shoulder Will increase majority in the margin of hair thinning," claims Lendon. "When the hair is thinning in the crown, then a demanding harvest of roughly 1 2 inches is most beneficial, also when blossom does occur about the sides, then a cut may help combine spans "

If a own hair is packaging its own items however Perhaps not out the entranceway, question your barber to get a medium-length blunt fidget and let it take a little while. In case matters possess progressed, try out a brief French harvest or buzz trim rather than agreeing to hair loss .

The Most Effective Items For Hair

If you are losing your own hair, You Have to Become Extra strategic about persuading ambivalent hairs to hang in there. "Prevent product accumulation at your entire scalp since this may affect hair development and th inning," claims Lendon. "detox your own entire scalp and exfoliate frequently" And also this involves going effortless on thick, fatty services and products and also selecting lighter formulas which are pliable and simple to become reduce.

Just before you hit to your development pills, then Try out a Couple hints of this transaction way too, states Lendonsaid "The Optimal/optimally styling Way of thinning Hair would be really to make use of a hair drier onto a superior temperature in addition to drying out the hair off up-side Down to make far more quantity in the origin " It has must become greater compared to the usual Five-figure baldness.

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its-klassicbeauty-blog · 4 years ago

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What Are Hair Extensions and Why They Are Great?

Your hair play a great role in defining your style, and they give you individuality and confidence. So, why not pamper them regularly! Whether you have short hair, but you wish to have long hair or if you have straight hair but you want curly hair, and so on; it is all possible with HAIR EXTENSIONS.

Hair extensions are an amazing way to have good hair days every day. They allow you to have different hairstyles for different occasions, easy to maintain, and will always make you look gorgeous.

What are hair extensions?

Hair extensions, also known as hair integrations are used to add to the length and volume of one’s hair. They can be made of natural or synthetic hair. If you are interested in adding a few strands of extra hair to your natural mane, then they are a perfect option. The best part is it is once you wear them correctly, there’s no way people can distinguish them from your real hair.

Now that we know what hair extensions are, let’s have a look at why they’re amazing to wear.

Reasons to Wear Hair Extensions

The following are a few reasons why hair extensions are completely worthy of investing in.

HAIR GROWTH

If your hair doesn’t grow after a certain length or you had a bad haircut that you deeply regret, it’s time to stop stressing over it. Now, you can add hair extensions to your natural length and flaunt the way you like. With plenty of options available in the market, you can easily buy that suits you best. From ponytail hair extensions to tape-in hair extensions to weaving to colored hair extensions, and more, have the hair you always dreamt of!

VOLUME

There’s nothing worse than thinning of hair over time. If your hair has become dull or thin or if you’re just not satisfied with the volume of your hair, worry no more! To enhance and increase the volume of our hair, human hair extensions are a great choice. Moreover, they not only give that extra volume but also help in reducing hair fall.

HAIRSTYLES

The fashion trends keep on changing, and in order to keep pace with the ongoing hair trends, you may end up damaging your hair. Also, special occasions demand unique hair-dos, and this is where hair extensions can be your go-to option. Achieve those dream voluminous curls for your wedding day, or get those long gorgeous ponytail for an office meeting. Hair extensions will surely help you reach those #hairgoals you’ve been envying.

COLOR

Almost every woman wishes to have colored hair but the complex after-care and damage that comes along are what stops them. Hair extensions, however, make this process simple and easy for you - you can play around with different colors, finally, try out the latest trends, or add in those highlights you’ve been itching towards. All of it without having to worry about the long-term commitment, and without causing any damage to your hair. And, that’s the beauty of hair extensions, if you don’t like the results, you can simply take them off, hassle-free.

EASY TO MANAGE

From special events to days when you don’t have time to style your hair to bad hair days, hair extensions have you rescued. They can help you save a lot of effort you’d spend trying to look your best. Moreover, it takes practically no time to clip in and how your style is totally y up to you. Hair extensions are a great way to enhance your overall look and stay stylish everyday.

Bottom Line

It’s worth noting that the best thing about wearing hair extensions is that you get to see how you would look in different colors, lengths, and styles without having to actually commit long term. So, look for hair extensions online, and you can find many stores that offer the highest quality synthetic or human hair extensions.

Visit now:https://klassicbeauty.com/

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spookysnicket · 5 years ago

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@slasherscream: Hey there! Can I get a slasher matchup please? I'm a bisexual black girl. I've got brown eyes, long black hair that's a big soft ball of curls + fluff. I'm a goofball Mom friend with a dark sense of humor. Huge sci-fi and horror fan. Love learning about history. Useless well of "Did you know that-" facts. Learning French specifically so I can shit talk ppl with my creole Mother in public. Pretend I'm a lot tougher than I actually am. Actually very sensitive and I tend to baby people. If I was a video game character you could only find me at the library or people watching. I snort when I laugh and tell bad jokes. I write poetry. Mostly dark stuff but also the secret romantic that writes poetry and love letters about their s/o. Just want to dote on someone and be doted back on in equal amount. Don't notice flirting but get shy when I finally do. Girly girl to the extreme. Dresses and skirts and wedges are the only way to live. Why did this get so long?? Thaaaank you!!

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(Don’t you worry about how long your descrip is! It gives me more things to write about! I hope you like it, matchup under the cut as always!)

I match you with Carrie White

✨ There are plenty of spoiled, snobby, entitled white teens in Chamberlain- who in the 1970′s, haven’t cared to learn how to respect people of color. Carrie, at her own discretion, will happily pummel any one of them into the ground with her TK, should they make any crude racist jokes- or at least scare the bigotry out of them if you forbid using any violence. She doesn’t get how they’d make fun of you like her if you’re beautiful like them

✨ Your hair is so pretty! She always asks first if she can touch it. Your poofy dark curls look so delicate and dainty, much more so than her straight, curtain-like strands. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t hold envy for your volume, too

✨ Goodness gracious does this poor little love-bug need a mom friend. Give her affirmations, gentle hugs, little kisses here and there. Kindness is a foreign concept to Carrie, but after she’s sure you aren’t just playing a trick on her, she melts at your every loving touch

✨ Listen, Carrie’s a textbook wallflower when she’s not the target of everyone’s bullying- she’s got info on every one of the pompous bastards in her town. As mean as it may be to her, she can’t help but laugh when you make a joke out of something she tells you

✨ Carrie actually kinda enjoys sci-fi, and much prefers to watch anything in that genre rather than horror. Geek out with her about all your favorite lore, characters, ships, etc. Carrie finds all the little details you appreciate in those fun other worlds so enchanting!

✨ There was one time on the way to lunch, you muttered to Carrie and asked her if Chris Hargensen could see both of your history grades from the high pedestal she sits on all day. Carrie legitimately thought she was gonna wee herself then and there and have to deal with another shower-like incident. In other terms, Carrie also really likes history! She’s a gifted student, and you two spend a lot of time together studying for exams and gushing over your favorite famous dead people

✨ Carrie’s happy to tune in attentively when you share your countless random facts. She thinks everything you have to say is fascinating, and she’s always listening with intrigue- you know so much!

✨ Hearing you speak another language? Faint. Carrie has such a thing for smarts. Plus, you just seem so effortlessly elegant to her- confidently pronouncing those pleasant yet indecipherable sounds as they roll off your tongue like flowy linguistic waves. You sound just as ethereal as you look (Just don’t let her know you’re secretly making fun of your classmates, she’ll feel bad)

✨ Carrie takes note of the contrast between your outer shell and inner personality rather quickly once you two start hanging out. Deep down it makes her feel special, seeing how kind and soft you are with her behind the scenes of your strong and assured disposition

✨ Book buddies! If Carrie was in a video game, she’d probably just be a book, if we’re honest

✨ She’s low key a stalker too, so you’re now a duo lurker team!

✨ Your snort scares her the first time she makes you laugh hard enough to get one out- she doesn’t expect the noise, is all. You’d covered your mouth afterwards, being embarrassed by her bewildered expression, before she grinned ear to ear with a smile that nearly made her eyes close shut, squashed by her raised cheeks that she then pressed her palms too with a sweet giggle. “Oh Y/n, that was precious!”

✨ None of your jokes are bad to Carrie. She unironically laughs at puns, and would unfortunately find some of those Facebook mom minion posts kinda funny too. There’s no bad joke to Carrie unless it targets someone in a mean way- don’t worry about your sense of humor!

✨ You better let Carrie see those poems. She finds the deeper messages in your works to be strangely comforting, and even nostalgic in a way. And just to let you know, you’re her favorite author

✨ She’s such a SAP for cheesy lovey-dovey overly sweet gestures. Finding a love letter? For her? By you? Lord above help her, Carrie has to fight her own mind to keep her TK from wreaking delighted havoc on her surroundings while her heart pounds away in tender lovesick beats

✨ I personally don’t think Carrie’s one to get overly attached, even considering her background and social status. Regardless of the fact that she’s been neglected and tossed away all her life, she doesn’t tend to be overbearing. That being said, there’s not a waking second where this girl isn’t thinking of you and loving you with her whole ass heart. If she sees something she thinks you might like, she’s gonna get you it as a gift. If she manages to keep momma at bay, she’s ‘heading to the library’ to go out with you. Super secret late night calls? You better bet she’s already huddled around the landline with her soft voice barely audible even on your end. She just loves you so much, and she wants to spend as much time with you as she can

✨ If god himself doesn’t waltz down the stairs to the pearly gates and put both of your hands together, Carrie doesn’t know what she’ll do. You're both terribly awkward around each other, but in that sweet and innocent way. Carrie is at ground zero with flirting and being close to someone, but watching the other girls with their partners sparks a drive- a sort of push and inspiration to try at your affections. Her advances however, get shot down fairly quickly due to your unknowing- which poor Carrie takes as you not feeling the same way. You gotta meet her halfway with this, or it’ll never happen

✨ Her flirting is pretty obvious though, so you should be able to catch on. Things like little compliments, flowers, asking for your opinion on poems she wrote about love that may or may not be directed at you- you get the gist of it. They were quite bold moves for Carrie, in hindsight- she really gave it her all to tell you how she felt about you, and it’s still adorable to this day

✨ PLEASE MAKE HER GIRLY. The confidence boost would be immediate. It’s wonderful to finally get out of those granny drapes and into a cute outfit for once. She probably starts leaving home for school earlier just to go to your place to change into something more suitable for her tastes. Plus, in a way, she gets to be wrapped in and surrounded by you! The comforting fabrics she’s clutched onto many times before during warm hugs now wears over her body, and for a moment, makes her feel almost as beautiful as you do every single day. What other reasons does she need?

#its so hard to find a gif where she's happy #and not smothered in pigs blood hkjshdfhdsk #matchups #slasher matchups #carrie white

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