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shieldofrohan · 4 years ago

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I don't think GRRM explores the flaws in Arya's characterisation rather he explores how the world is unfair to her. Whenever I read Jon, Sansa, Dany , Robb and Bran, I feel they behave as their age requires them to be. They show capabilities yet are not exempted from bad choices which a character at their age can easily commit. With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.

Hello Anon,

I have to agree and disagree with you.

I agree with that Martin writes Jon, Sansa and Dany better- MUCH BETTER.

I am obviously not a Daenerys fan but I enjoyed her character more than I did with Arya. I said it many times but I am going to say it again: Daenerys is the best written character in the series. She is much more interesting villain than man-pain Tyrion [looking at you Martin.. really, Tyrion?].

Objectively I find her character well written and interesting. But my problem with her is that her cult like fans who completely ignore her true position and characterization in the books. Hopefully in the future people will enjoy Dany character for the right reasons.

I felt like I need to explain my thoughts about Dany first to show my problems with the way of Arya was written by the author.

Arya is the WORST written main character. TRULY. Everything about her is so FAKE/FORCED/CLICHE/UNREALISTIC…

Author says that Arya is the underdog/outcast of the family. Does the writing show this?

NO!

She is literally her father's favorite child. We see Ned constantly favoring her, letting her do what she likes, he never scolds her, he makes time to talk with her about her traumas like losing a friend, he fcking finds a Water Dancer for her [but not a harp teacher for Sansa]. I have a great dad but jeez, even he never showed me this kind of devotion.

Catelyn seems like she knows her daughter well… we don’t see her abusing or ignoring her. She even acknowledges her struggles.

Her siblings love her. Even Sansa tries to keep include her into her own circle to enjoy things together, she covers for her against Septa Mordane.

As we can see, she seems doing fine as a tomboy girl in the family of 5 men/boys and 2 women/girls.

BUT SHE COULDN’T SEW SO SHE WAS BEING ABUSED.

Really? Wow she must be the only special snowflake who wasn’t good at sewing. I am sure rest of the girls in North were all experts. Arya is the only one who lacks some skill people and it made her super sad.

Fans tried to paint this as some "omg anti-feminism/sexism in society" thing and it feels absurd because Arya was bad at history and heraldy too..

A tomboy is not good at some female-coded skill is so fcking cliche for character building and I am not buying it. And this is BAD/LAZY WRITING.

Did Martin try to make her look like an underdog with this??

Well Sansa is not good at math? I am sure she had bad days because of this too but we didn’t read it. If you ask me Sansa (girly girl) being bad at math (male-coded subject) was more sexist than sewing and Arya thing [considering Sansa was good at music and playing instruments which require math but whatever.]

Arya is an outcast because she is not like other girls… WOW, it has never been written before, how did George come up with this idea? Meanwhile we have girls like Mormont girls so obviously she is not the only "NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS MARY SUE".

Evil Mordane bullied poor Arya. Mordane is totally not good for her BUT Arya literally never listens HER TEACHER. I am not talking about her lack of skill in sewing. Arya simply NEVER listens anyone. She disobeys her septa, she declines QUEEN’s invitations rudely, she talks sh*t about CROWN PRINCE while princess is next to them.

Girly lessons like sewing weren’t the only lessons she was not into it…

Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

[ACOK; Arya VII]

She simply never cares about any lessons and she simply refuses to learn basic DECORUM. Yeah I am sorry that she had to learn things she didn’t want to but welcome to real world.

MY POINT IS: all these are so weak points to make her look like an outcast/underdog.

Don’t even let me start with Jeyne Poole calling her HORSERACE nonsense. I said it before so I repeat it: This feels so forced in the story considering Arya is the daughter of Warden of the North and Jeyne is some simple daughter of a simple man who works for Starks.

This is what author himself says about class system:

Q: What was the hardest thing in writing about such an alien world?

GRRM: The vast majority of fantasy is middle agey time wise, and he himself finds the period fascinating; glad to adopt it for novel writing - likes knights and castles and such. He objects to bad fantasy practice which adopts a time setting without accepting the culture - imposing 20th century values like the cheeky stableboy telling off the princess (in reality cheeky stableboy would lose his tongue - look what happend to Mycah); the class system was not just and ornament and these people truly belived in blood, and the rank and priviledge that came with "good" blood. [2006]

But Jeyne somehow had no fear when she was “bullying” a princess. Does this make sense to you or does it feel forced to make Arya look like a victim. And this bad writing keeps repeating itself while author writes Arya and when you realize this pattern you can’t unsee it and it ruins the books a little.

I wrote all these to explain what is ACTUALLY wrong with Arya as a character. I don’t blame Arya for the bad writing, I blame the author.

And I disagree with you a little when you said: "With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.”

[I explained the her failings in society’s eyes part already.. that thing is a cliche and unrealistic writing]

I don’t agree with that reading Arya feels like reading an older woman. No it feels like reading a VERY UNREALISTIC AND DISTURBING CHILD. She totally makes mistakes:

Talking bad about prince in a room full of people, declining Queen’s invitations, not listening her septa and Sansa, making prince angry, hiding for 4 days while she should have gone to her father to deal with the mess so maybe Mycah and Lady wouldn’t be dead, attacking her sister, killing a stableboy, killing many other people, joining a assassin cult, killing a Black brother because she thinks she has the right etc..

She makes mistakes but we didn’t see her face any consequences. Will we see her face them?? When it comes to Arya I don’t trust GRRM. GRRM covers for her all the time. GRRM = Ned Stark. He favors her. I mean look at this:

Sansa saves Dontos who later molests her and he works for Baeslish who also molests her.

Arya saves Jaqen H’ghar and he turns out to be a Faceless Man who kills THREE people for her.

Sandor sexually assaults Sansa but not Arya [I am not saying he should!! But why is it always Sansa? Does the author punish Sansa for her beauty… ANSWER IS YES because I am done!]

Sansa trusts Joffrey and Cersei ends up the most hated character in the books [even author says she had a part in her father’s death and he is ok with fans hating her]

Meanwhile Arya’s spider senses tell her to not trust Roose Bolton or anyone etc.

Arya runs into people like Yoren or Harwin meanwhile Sansa… you got it.

Basically this is a simple case of author favoring a character and it happens in all books.

The only thing that indicates author knows she is not perfect is that him calling her a “psycho” or not disagreeing when fans call her a psycho [I know I usually make fun of this but actually this is not some good take about a child character especially if you say Starks- including Arya- are the heroes]

In conclusion: I think she is written terribly, she is the weakest part in the story and character building. I simply hate the way author deals with her character. I think she is not interesting. She turned out to be a very dark and disturbing child character and I have no idea what is GRRM trying to tell with her.

Thanks for the ask. Have a nice day.

#anti grrm #anti arya stark #anti arya stans #ask #answered #reply #anon #grrm critical #mine

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years ago

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Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 17.

Chapter 17: Positive

(Not my gif)

Summary: Things haven’t been easy since Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Bridgett has been having a hard time without Spencer. When Penelope comes to check on her best friend, Bridgett realizes her timing is off.

TW: Mentions of murder. Spencer going to jail. Mentions of pills. Mentions of alcohol. Mentions of throwing up. Pregnancy. Putting pregnancy at risk.

Word Count: 3.2k.

A.N: The italicized paragraph in the beginning is a flashback..

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

It was the day...

The day of Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Nobody knew what he was going to plead, not even Bridgett… she didn’t even think Spencer knew. Once Emily got the call that the Mexican authorities had found the knife used in Nadie Ramos’ murder, everything went downhill from there. At first they were offering if Spencer pleaded guilty that he would do 5 years, if he chose to plead not guilty, he was looking at 25 years to life. Fiona gave him both of his options, but Spencer decided then and there that he was going to plead not guilty.

“Can I have a minute alone with him please?” Bridgett asked, turning to Emily and Fiona.

“Of course. We’ll both be outside.” Fiona says, grabbing her briefcase and walking out of the room with Emily behind her.

Bridgett stayed quiet, staring at Spencer, waiting for him to explain himself. His eyes stayed on the table between them, not wanting to have the conversation with his girlfriend.

“Do you know what you’re putting yourself up against by pleading not guilty? You could go to prison for a long time, Spencer. Think about all the evidence.”

“Scratch has been very thorough with making sure things don’t look good for me.”

“Yeah, and a jury isn’t going to see that you were set up. They’re going to see that all signs point to you. They don’t know Scratch like we do.”

“Do you think they’ll convict me?”

Bridgett sighs heavily, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. But if you plead guilty… 5 years isn’t the worst. You can come out of prison and still have a life.”

“Yeah but not as an FBI agent. I’ll be a convicted felon.”

“But you would be free. You and I could still have a life together.” Bridgett replies, already tearing up.

“And while I do want that, you know that the FBI is where I belong.”

“But you don’t belong in prison, baby. If you want to roll the dice, and take your chances with going to trial, 25 years might as well be a life sentence.”

“If this whole thing has been orchestrated by Scratch, I know the team can get him.”

“Without a doubt we will. I know we will. But.... what if we can’t prove it this month, this year… or this decade. Spence, we can’t figure it out by tomorrow for your arraignment.” Bridgett lets out a sob.

Spencer shakes his head, sniffling and dropping eye contact with Bridgett.

“What do I do?” Spencer says, his voice straining to keep from crying.

Bridgett sighs shakily, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. But I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m going to be here either way.” She brings him in for a hug, letting him cry onto her shoulder.

***

The whole team was in the front row on his side, watching as the bailiffs walked in with Spencer between them in handcuffs, walking him to the desk in front of them and helping him sit down. Bridgett was right behind him, giving him a warm smile when he turns around to look at the team.

“How do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Doctor.

“Not guilty.” He says sternly.

Bridgett’s heart jumps at his decision.

Okay… that means we’ll go to trial. But we can get through it.

Penelope held onto Bridgett’s hand while Fiona and the defense attorney went back and forth about why Spencer should and should not have bail set. At one point, both Bridgett and Penelope wanted to hop over the railing and beat the attorney up for the negative accusations he was saying against Spencer. Luke could tell Bridgett was getting agitated, but he took her other hand and gave it a squeeze of comfort. The judge was being less than understanding when Fiona offered the team as character witnesses to speak on Spencer’s behalf, not feeling “in the mood” to hear what they had to say.

“Bail is denied. Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” She fires, banging the gavel.

Bridgett’s whole heart falls into the pit of her stomach, hearing that Spencer wouldn’t be coming home with her. She looked in horror at Spencer as he looked to her, just as scared as she was.

“How long until his case goes to trial?” Emily asks Fiona.

“It’s a complicated case. We’re looking at maybe 3 months.”

Bridgett reaches for Spencer’s hand over the railing, he takes it and pulls her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Bridge.” He whispers.

“I love you. Please be careful.” She says back, trying to take in his embrace one last time, trying to commit to memory his smell and how he held her.

The two bailiffs pull Spencer back from Bridgett’s embrace, taking one of his hands behind his back. Before they get the other hand Spencer points to the top of his sternum and mouths “I’m right here.” Alluding to the necklace he gifted her years ago.

Bridgett sniffles and grabs the moon pendant and rubs it with her thumb, nodding her head.

Spencer turns around one last time as he’s being escorted out, looking at his family; lost and scared to be leaving them. After the door closes, Bridgett sobs, gripping the railing under her to keep her standing. Everyone’s worst nightmare just came true... Spencer was going to prison for something he didn’t do, and they still had no physical evidence of him being set up. Bridgett drops her head as she feels Luke grab her, bringing her in for a hug.

This isn’t really happening. He wasn’t actually going to prison. This was all just a big mistake.

“Bridge, come on, let’s go outside.” JJ says, rubbing her arm.

Bridgett lifts her head from Luke’s chest, wiping her eyes. “I need to go home. I can’t… I can’t be here.” She cries, scooting past Emily and Penelope and walking out of the courtroom.

***

Bridgett’s eyes flutter open, looking at the empty space in her next to her that Spencer always slept in when he was over. Her eyes filled with tears again as she touched the dark grey sheets next to her, feeling the tears go over the bridge of her nose and rolling onto the pillow under her head.

The muscle relaxer she had taken a few hours prior had knocked her out, it was the only way she was going to get sleep. She hugged the body pillow tight, wishing it was Spencer that she was hugging instead of the damn pillow. It had been 2 weeks since the hearing and Bridgett was going through a serious depression. She hadn’t been back to work since the hearing, Emily said she needed time to get into the right headspace, which usually Bridgett would argue with being away from the job, but now it wasn’t a fight.

A possibility of 3 months. 3 months. 90+ days before his case went to trial. How was she going to get through 3 months without him? The prison wasn’t allowing him visitors just yet for whatever reason. Emily was hopeful that within the next week or so that they would allow them.

Finally, Bridgett grabs the throw blanket at the foot of her bed, wrapping it around herself before getting out of bed and walking into her living room. Her head felt fuzzy and dizzy as she shuffled out of her room, a definite side effect of the pills and alcohol she was consuming everyday for the past 2 weeks.

She stood in the middle of the room, closing her eyes to try to get the spinning to subside. The spinning made her feel nauseous, a bitter taste developing on her tongue, one of her queues that she was about to throw up. Bridgett hurries to the kitchen, going through her pantry to find some crackers to snack on, needing some sort of substance to fill her stomach. She chewed slowly through the saltiness of the cracker, sipping on a glass of water as she chews.

Bridgett’s phone chirps from the other side of the counter, she sees a text from Penelope.

Hey I’m less than a minute from your place, I just want to see how you’re doing.

Bridgett shuffles to the living room, opening the apartment door to wait for Penelope in the hallway. It was the first time she had been out of her apartment. Once she sees her blonde hair and the red as black patterned dress she was wearing, she half smiles, stepping back inside.

Penelope shuts the door behind her, embracing Bridgett right away. “I miss your beautiful face, Bridgy.” She says, squeezing her tightly.

“I miss you too. You know you don’t have to come check on me, right? I’m… fine.” Bridgett shrugs.

“How long have I known you?”

“10 years.”

“And don’t you think I know when you’re not okay? Your man being in prison means that you’re definitely not okay.”

Bridgett sighs, leaning back on the couch. “I feel like if I tell myself that I’m okay, at some point my mind will believe it and I’ll start being okay.”

“Eventually you will be. It’s just going to take a while. It’s been 3 weeks since the hearing, you’re still getting used to life.”

“3 weeks? It’s been 2.”

“No, it’s been 3. The hearing was on the 20th.”

“Wait, it’s really been 3 weeks?” Bridgett mumbles. She quickly sits up on the couch, trying to do math in her head, but she was already so scatterbrained at the moment that things weren’t making sense. She hops up from the couch, going to the calendar on her desk to try and figure it out.

“Bridge? Hey what’s wrong?” Penelope asks, following after her.

Bridgett puts her pointer finger up in her direction, counting the weeks for the fourth time. There was no way.

“Bridgett, what’s wrong? You look scared.”

Bridgett’s heart started to beat out of her chest as the realization sunk in that her math was spot on. She sinks down onto the chair, covering her mouth in shock.

“I’m late.” She mutters.

“Oh!” Penelope gasps, her eyes growing wide.

“I was supposed to get my period the week after Spencer got arrested, but it never came. I thought it was all the stress. It wouldn’t be the first time my period just doesn’t show because I’m stressed out because of the job. And I figured it still hadn’t come because I’m beyond stressed out, but it’s been almost 2 months since I’ve gotten it. Eventually my body is like ‘okay just give the girl her period now’.” Bridgett runs fingers through her tangled hair, her leg bouncing up and down feverishly. “Oh my god, I can’t be pregnant. Not now.”

“Yeah, probably not the best time, but it’ll be okay. You know you have all of us to support you.”

“Penelope, you don’t understand. I’ve been drinking everyday since Spencer’s hearing, taking pills to help me sleep. Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I should have known with how long it’s been since I’ve had my period. Shit.” Bridgett cusses.

“You didn’t know, Bridge. It’s not your fault.”

“Spencer and I were trying for a baby for almost a year and a half before he brought Diana to live with him. We put it on hold, but… what if now that we stopped trying, I really am pregnant?”

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go down to the drugstore down the block and get you a pregnancy test, and we’re going to find out if you’re actually pregnant before we panic, okay?” Penelope says, grabbing her purse and hurrying out the door.

Bridgett sighs, biting at the hangnail on her pointer finger. If she was pregnant, she was at least 2 maybe 3 months, but that was not likely. She hadn’t been careful with consuming alcohol, especially after the hell she had been through the past month and a half.

Bridgett being the overthinker and worst case scenario on her mind all the time type person she was, she got onto Google to ‘Risks of consuming alcohol during pregnancy’. Most of it was common knowledge, but it was almost as if her mind needed to punish her for the horrible thing she was doing to her possible child.

“You didn’t lock the door after I left?” Penelope scolds her, walking back in the door.

Bridgett turns around, sighing. “I uh… no sorry. Can I have the test?”

“Oh, yeah, I bought you this water in case but you do you. Think happy thoughts.” She says with a smile, handing her the plastic bag with the box inside.

***

“I didn’t know you and Spencer were trying for a baby.” Penelope says, sitting next to Bridgett on the couch, handing her a glass of water.

Bridgett takes a big glup, trying to focus on anything else at all. “Yeah we went through a scare about a little over a year a half ago. It came out negative but then we talked about trying. Nothing came of it… until maybe now. How much longer?”

Penelope looks at the timer on her phone, “45 seconds.”

Bridgett sighs, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “What am I going to do if I am pregnant? I put this baby at risk by being so irresponsible.”

“You stay here, I’ll go get the test and then we’ll go from there before we panic.” Penelope says, getting up from the couch and walking to the bathroom.

Bridgett takes several deep breaths, trying not to give herself a panic attack as she waits for Penelope.

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is… uh, I have a friend who’s an OB, and we’re going to get you an ultrasound to check the baby out, okay?” Penelope says, holding a pair of Bridgett’s shoes in her hand and the test in the other.

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide, her jaw dropping. “Wait, I’m… it’s positive?”

Penelope nods her head slowly, offering the rest to her. Bridgett covers her mouth with her hand, gasping into it. The tears flow hot down her cheeks as Penelope hands her the test. She sobs as she sees the word “PREGNANT” on the screen, a cold shiver running over her body.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bridgett says over and over, sniffling.

“Honey, everything is going to be okay.”

“This is my fault, Penelope! I should have known I was pregnant! And now… shit, how am I going to tell Spence?”

“We can’t worry about that right now. We need to worry about getting you to see someone to check on my future god child.”

***

“Miss Mendez?” A petite red headed lady walks into the room.

Bridgett smiles at her, still completely terrified. “Yes, you can call me Bridgett.”

“My name is Dr. Clark, I’m going to check you and your baby out, okay? Penelope said you were worried.”

“Yes, I… I went through a hard time the past month or two and I’ve been drinking and taking sleeping pills. I had no idea I was pregnant, I lost track of time and didn’t realize I was so late until today. I figured it was all the stress I’m under.”

“So what I’m going to do is first see how far along you are, and see if the baby is developing normally, the brain, heart, all the organs are developing normally as well, okay? And I’m going to tell you something, there are lots of women who don't realize they’re pregnant and drink, smoke, do a lot worse things that they shouldn’t do. You’re not the first, and you’re not the last. What matters is that now that you know you’re pregnant, you stop all of that immediately.”

Bridgett nods her head, fighting back tears. Obviously Bridgett was the biggest cry baby before pregnancy, but she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was going to be with pregnancy hormones.

The doctor squeezes a gel onto Bridgett’s belly, her body covered in goosebumps at how cold it was. Penelope was smiling from ear to ear next to Bridgett as she sees what actually looks like the shape of a baby on the monitor.

“Oh my god, Bridgy, look.” Penelope says with excitement.

Bridgett looks at the monitor in disbelief, it didn’t look like a baby, but like a large bean.

“So you’re measuring about 8, almost 9 weeks. And the measurements look spot on for where the fetus should be.”

“Oh thank god.” Bridgett says.

“With that being said, do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

“I can do that?” Bridgett asks, smiling at the doctor.

“Yes! Let me turn this on, and find it for you.”

The room is filled with a loud and fast rhythmic thumping. Bridgett’s jaw drops hearing how quickly the thumping was going.

“Healthy heartbeat.” The doctor beams.

“Oh my god.” Bridgett smiles, looking over at Penelope who was now crying too.

“Congratulations. I’m going to print some pictures for you to take home with you.”

“Thank you.” Bridgett replies, looking at the screen in awe. “That’s my baby. Mine and Spencer’s baby.”

Penelope smiles, “Baby genius on the way.”

***

Penelope and Bridgett go around her apartment, throwing away all the empty bottles of liquor that she had accumulated throughout the past few weeks, tossing them in a garbage bag.

“Can I ask you something? Are you going to tell Spencer you’re pregnant?” Penelope asks.

“Not now. I’m going to wait. I don’t want me being pregnant to be something he worries about while he’s in prison.”

“What if…”

“I don’t want to think about that. Worst case scenario, I’ll tell him before he goes to trial. I just want to be able to see him.”

“Emily told us this morning that they’re allowing visitors starting tomorrow. I took it upon myself to make a chart of who’s visiting Spencer and when, but obviously you get first priority.”

“Okay, I’ll go see him tomorrow. But I’m going to keep it to myself just for now. That means that you, Penelope Garcia, need to keep a secret. You can’t tell the team that I’m pregnant, okay?”

Penelope nods her head, crossing her heart. “I promise I’ll keep you and my future god child, a secret.”

“Thank you. We both appreciate it.” Bridgett rubs her stomach. “It’s crazy to think that I have a baby growing inside me. Even crazier to think it’s Spencer’s baby.”

“You two are going to be the best parents ever. I can’t imagine how much love this baby is going to be surrounded by.”

Bridgett smiles, getting a little emotional over the fact that her and Spencer were going to be parents. “Do you think he’s going to be happy?”

“Who, Spencer? Are you kidding? He’s going to be so excited. I’m going to get going, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you so much for being here, Garcia.” Bridgett says, hugging the woman tight.

Penelope takes the garbage bags with her as she leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Bridgett sits on the couch, taking the ultrasound pictures in her hand and looking at the black and white blob in the picture. Her hand drops down to her stomach, nowhere near a baby bump yet and rubs it.

“Hey in there. I’m mom.” Bridgett laughs. “Your dad is away as I’m sure you know with how much I’ve been crying over it. But you’ll meet him soon and he’s going to love you so much. I can’t wait to meet you. And I promise I’m going to take better care of you. I’m so sorry for hurting you before, but now that I know, I’m going to protect you.”

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid series #spencer reid x oc character #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #Matthew Gray Gubler #part of you fic

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adamfoolcry · 4 years ago

Text

How the Tables Turned (One-Shot)

pairings: Reader x Hendery, Lucas(mentioned)

rating: PG-13

warnings: none just cringe inducing fluff

genre: comedy, fluff

synopsis: You are a student assistant at the library and Hendery seems to love staying in the library past open hours.

word count: 1,734

a/n: Mentioning @nctcreations in case the tags don’t work. I love Hendery he exudes so much positivity and is very thoughtful.

Everyone who is acquainted with you knows that you are good-natured and possess a calm temperament. Right now though, the way you are glaring at the back of Wong Kunhang's head makes you resemble a bull seeing red complete with steam blowing out of your nostrils. The ticking of the old clock as it counts every second passing by infuriates you as if it's its sole purpose. It is already past five in the afternoon to other high school students it isn't much of a nuisance but to you, it is life or death. You need to be out of the school premises past five and should be on the way to the cafe you work in the evenings. Being a minute late at your part-time job means that you will receive a lengthy sermon from the cafe's owner as if they will not deduct it from your salary. But here you are still at the library waiting for Wong Kunhang to go on his merry way so that you can return the book he is pretending to be reading back to its respective shelf. Honestly, you would have let this pass but it's as if he is doing this on purpose for the past seven days. Adding salt to the wound, for every single day he takes a different book bringing it to his desk leafing through the pages eyes unfocused. Making you conclude that he is not doing any reading at all but just drops by the library to spite you. Each time before he leaves he will try to approach the desk where you are situated at and as if changing his mind in a millisecond he always makes a hasty retreat, exiting rather abruptly. You have reached your threshold and decided that you are going to confront him, for whatever his game is this got to stop. You walked towards the desk where he is, standing from behind his seat. You cleared your throat to get his attention. He craned his head back to look at you.

"Ummm, hi"

He immediately stood up from his seat in a frantic manner and rise to his height to stand opposite you. The seat's leg scratched the concrete producing a screeching sound.

"Hi, my name's Kunhang you can also call me Hendery if you like." He scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly smiling.

"I know who you are it is past five and the library closes at 5:00 PM sharp and I need to be at work -"

"I can totally take you there!" Kunhang exclaimed cutting you off. His words echoing in the empty library. You were not expecting that, the heat started blossoming on the tops of your cheeks.

"Uhhhmm, I was going to say that if you can, you know tidy up before five that would be great." You replied awkwardly.

"Ohh uhmm sure sure." You can see that he was embarrassed. He picked up the book from the desk. "I am sorry, I am gonna put this book back." You watched him as he put the book on its respective shelf and exited the library leaving you bewildered. Well, at least you got that over with.

After that incident, you no longer have to deal with him as he does not visit the library anymore. But he now occupies the other half of your brain you see him from your peripheral vision wherever you go. It seems that you are hyperaware of his presence and you can't take your eyes off him. How could you not notice before that he sits a few seats away from you at classes? By the things are going you can probably write a one-page essay about him.

He likes cats, not fond obsessed is the right word. His pencil case is imprinted with cat designs. He keeps a picture of his cats in his wallet, you know because you peeked over his shoulder at the cafeteria while he is paying for his food. He always remembers to feed the school's resident stray cat every morning. You saw him one morning bending down at the bushes near the outskirts of your school petting and feeding the stray cat.

He always hides a manga behind his textbook during classes snickering quietly so that he wouldn't be caught. Strangely enough, for someone who is not trying to do his best academically, he excels in maths and sciences and actively participates in those classes.

He likes to exchange crumpled notes with Yukhei. Maybe containing a joke or two because one time the teacher caught them they were kicked out of the class and got detention for the rest of the afternoon.

You can't deny that you are fascinated with him the same Wong Kunhang that you used to curse in your mind. You might even develop a tiny crush on him. This is why you found yourself boring holes at the back of his skull with the intensity of your gaze. Looking for minuscule details to add to your Hendery's cute and quirky habits list. Yukhei caught you in action sending you a wink and a teasing smile like he knows what's going on in your mind. He leaned down and whispered it to Kunhang.

Oh god no ...

Which made Kunhang spare you his attention looking at you with his biggest signature goofy smile. You abruptly hide your face behind your textbook and pretended that you are not gaping pathetically at his back so intently. You avoided looking at his direction for the rest of the day but you can feel Kunhang's eyes following your every move making you flustered and rendering you to something akin to tomato for the rest of the day.

You do not feel good scratch that this is the worst menstrual cramp that you have experienced in your life. Top that with the fact that your PE teacher has instructed your class to do ten laps in the field under the sweltering heat. Your peers are already ahead of you and you have long given up trying to match their pace. You stopped jogging and clutched your stomach the spasms intensifying making you double over in pain.

"Hey _______, you okay?" Kunhang kneeled at your crouched figure.

"Yeah, I am fine." As soon as you said that your abdominal muscles contracted so hard and a whimper escaped your lips.

"Let's go to the clinic you don't look so good." Kunhang reached for your forearm and slung it on his shoulders providing support to your frail figure helping you stand up. Although feeling like you might pass out any minute you can't help but observe Kunhang now that your bodies are now in close contact. His perfect side profile, tall straight nose, big doe eyes, plump pink lips, his floppy hair that frames his face, and his light perfume which smells like the sea breeze. As Kunhang led you to the clinic he started telling you about the time he collapsed due to over-exertion at one of the PE classes blaming the teacher's strenuous routine and launching on his tirade about what a pain in the ass the teacher is. You giggled finding his attempt to comfort you adorable.

"I am on my period Kunhang. The cramps are a bit on the painful side today."

"Oh ..." Hendery said embarrassed.

After dropping you off at the clinic Hendery got back to the PE class to inform the teacher about your mishap and that the nurse advised you to take the rest of the day off. You decided to rest up at the clinic and head home after the classes are over. Exiting the clinic you advanced your way to the classroom to collect your belongings when you froze on the spot upon seeing Kunhang leaning at the opposite wall to the clinic. He was carrying your bag on his shoulder. Noticing your presence he greeted you with his smile.

"I thought it'll be a hassle for you."

You can't help but smile back at him, taking your bag from him as the two of you walk towards the school gate Kunhang started bribing you to buy him ramen as payment for his good deeds.

He has this habit of looking at you but he isn't trying to hide it, in fact you think he is waiting for you to catch him because every single time you caught him redhanded he'll flash his goofy smile at you. The first few times you caught him your initial reaction was to start blushing but after the novelty of being embarrassed wears off you just shook your head smiling your eyes crinkling in mirth.

He'll always approach you and start acting cute doing silly little poses sometimes Yukhei drags him off before he starts embarrassing himself other times Yukhei will join in and start imitating Kunhang's comical poses resulting in overjoyous laughter erupting from your classmates.

He leaves you food and other trinkets on your desk. Lately after coming back from the cafeteria the ever-presence of food at your desk baffles you sometimes it contains other miscellaneous items like hair clips and ties. It was not after that your cramps manifested again that you finally knew who the culprit was for in your desk is a hot water bag. You quickly looked in the direction where you knew Kunhang was sitting, his head thrown back laughing at Yukhei's joke. As if sensing your stare he turned his face in your direction and grinned charmingly doing another of his silly poses.

It's fifteen minutes to five o clock and you need to make sure that every book is on their designated shelf and there is nothing out of its place scrutinizing the library with a sweep of your eyes you deemed that everything is in order. You grabbed your bag under the desk when the sound of the door hinges creaking got your attention. You quickly look to whoever dares to come in at the library fifteen minutes to its closing time. Surprise it was none other than Wong Kunhang. You walk up to him to stand at his opposite side, clearing your throat to get him to address you.

"Is the offer of a ride to my workplace still up?"

"Only if we go to the movies afterward."

"It's a date then."

There it is Kunhang's goofy smile. Perhaps you are too, smitten with him.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist.

#nctcreations #hendery nct #hendery x reader #hendery fluff #hendery scenarios #hendery imagines #hendery wayv #nct fluff #wayv fluff #nct imagines

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fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan · 4 years ago

Text

My Treasure - William Nylander

Request: Can you do one where you are pregnant with William nylanders baby and getting hate and he makes you feel better

Getting pregnant at 24 was definitely not a part of my 5 year post college plan. Then again falling in love wasn't one of my bullet points either. But when my period was over a week late I knew that everything was about to change. William was thrilled when he saw the bolded word on the pregnancy test, immediately wanting to tell anyone he could. I was a little more hesitant to share the news.

I knew that I wanted children someday and those feelings intensified once my relationship with William became serious, I just figured we would be married and I would be a little more secure in my teaching job before we would add a baby to the mix. We told our families first and they were all excited and happy for us, same with friends and teammates. The real problem came when we started to share the news with the rest of the world. On William's social media everyone was happy for us and wishing us well, but mine is where all of the hate went.

She probably got knocked up so he couldn't leave her.

Hopefully you don't gain too much baby weight, you could already stand to lose a little.

You're not even pregnant with his kid I bet, just went to the guy with the biggest paycheck.

I did my best to delete the comments as soon as I saw them, hiding them from William so he wouldn’t get upset. Some people didn't get the hint after the first deleted comment and I would end up blocking them. Two weeks after announcing our pregnancy the nasty comments were outweighing the nice ones of my post. My pregnancy hormones went crazy one day when my pants didn't fit for the first time of the pregnancy and William was away on a road trip until the morning.

I canceled my plans to go get dinner with some friends and instead had a pity party in some of William's clothes with ice cream and reading through all the horrible things that were being said about me.

I can't believe he is still with her, she is not pretty enough for him.

Fat cow

You are going to ruin his career with the child.

I cried myself to sleep on the couch after midnight and didn't wake up until someone was brushing some hair out of my face. Slowly opening my eyes I saw a concerned William kneeling on the floor in front of me. "Ellie, what’s wrong? Were you crying?" I sat up, making room for William next to me before he pulled me into his lap. "Your friends texted me last night and told me you skipped on going to dinner with them. Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?"

"The baby is fine, I just couldn't find anything that fit comfortably with the bump. I had a pity party with ice cream and must have fallen asleep." Everything I said was true, I just left out one major thing.

"I'm sorry babe, but can I finally buy you some new maternity clothes? Please." He gave me puppy dog eyes as he begged, causing me to laugh and turn to face him more.

"You love shopping more than I do."

"Is that a yes? I'm taking that as a yes. Go get ready, shopping might take all day." With that he was carrying me down the hall, laughing the entire way. When he finally set me down I managed to find a t-shirt dress that wasn't too uncomfortable and proceeded to get ready.

***

After a full day of shopping William took me out to dinner at our favorite Spanish restaurant. I excused myself after we ordered a bunch of small plates to share to run to the bathroom and when I got back William was standing at the table with a large plastic bag and shaking hands with the owner. "What's going on?"

"I thought you might be more comfortable if we went home and ate. I've kept you busy most of the day so I know your feet must be bothering you." His tone was off but I brushed it off as we headed out. The drive home was a tense silence without even the radio playing.

I didn't say anything until we were in the apartment and William started slamming cabinet doors as he got plates. "What's wrong?"

"I just don't get why people spend so much time trying to make other people down! Like, what does it do for them?" He had a fire in his eyes I had only ever seen on the ice, and I wasn't sure what was causing it.

"I'm going to some more context here. Did something happen at the restaurant?"

"Before we left the last store I took a couple of pictures for our shopping day and posted them to Instagram. I thought it was no big deal, just sharing what I was up to on a day off. And then when you were in the bathroom your phone started buzzing like crazy so I thought someone was trying to call you. But all of your notifications were for Instagram, and I know I shouldn't have opened the app on your phone but I thought maybe it was your girlfriends' group chat and Sophie finally got engaged." I let out a small chuckle at that, we basically were taking bets on when her and her high school sweetheart would finally take the next step.

"I'm guessing that isn't what you saw." I knew what he was going to say next but I was hoping with every fiber of my being that I was wrong.

"No, I saw the worst of humanity in your DMs. I just- how can people be so cruel?" William slumped into the bar stool next to me at the island as I reached for my phone having to see what was sent to me now. "Ellie…" I ignored his worried warning as I opened up the app, going to my DMs.

Fat cow, you only got pregnant so that you could lock in some who is far too good for you. I hope he sees he could do so much better and kicks you out before that baby ruins his career and life!

So you are just using him for his money. I bet the baby isn’t even his, probably a teammate who makes less. Whore!

Bitch, why are you even with Willy? He is a literal hockey god and from what i can tell you are just some stupid high school math teacher. He can do so much better than you.

There were over 50 messages just like those, all sent within the last hour. I didn't even dare look at the comments on my latest post, even though it was a few days old the braver trolls put their nasty messages there for the whole world to see.

"How long has this been happening?" I had hopped off my stool, going to plate up the food we brought home and trying to avoid the conversation I knew we needed to have. "Ellie… Please talk to me. How long?"

"Honestly, since we started posting that we were dating. It's gotten worse since we posted that we are gonna be parents."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because part of me thought that if I just deleted the messages and comments that it wasn't real. That if I was the only one who knew that I could just pretend that it was all in my head. Then there is that stupid voice in my head that likes to play up my insecurities, that made me feel like if you saw what people were sending me that you would believe it. And I know that thinking that is stupid and unrealistic but it can sometimes be the loudest thing in there." William also got off his stool, coming to stand right in front of me. He kissed my forehead before cupping my cheeks and holding eye contact.

"Min skatt, never feel like you have to hide this from me. You are the one I am in love with and want to spend the rest of my life with. You are the only one that can make me smile and laugh when I am in a bad mood after a game. You are the only one I see myself growing old, and possibly bald with." I let out a gasp at the word bald, he was so protective about his hair.

"See, the rational part of me knows all that."

"Well, let me make it clear to every part of you. I love you with every fiber of my being and as soon as I meet with your father next week to ask for his blessing, I will be asking you to marry me."

"Will…"

"But I am going to need you to act surprised when I ask." That got a small chuckle out of me.

"I'll do my best." William's stomach growled then, making both laugh. "Let's eat before your stomach starts communicating with us again." William just nods, a thoughtful look on his face that I'm sure would cause problems later but right now I just wanted to live in the happy moment.

After reheating the food and settling at the kitchen island to eat, I went through and deleted all the DMs and comments. I barely registered what they said as I deleted. What I didn't know was Will was looking at the comments as I deleted before pulling out his own phone. It was only when my phone buzzed with another notification that I found out what he was doing.

@williamnylander tagged you in a post

The post was two pictures side by side; the first was from our first date at a Christmas market, all bundled up and snuggled into each other as we took the photo in a mirror. The other picture was a selfie he took of us at my last doctor's appointment for the pregnancy, both of us were all smiles as I sat on the exam table with a picture of the sonogram on the screen behind us.

Two pictures of the love of my life. One from our first date, where I was a clutz and spilt hot chocolate all over her light grey coat and she still agreed to a second date. The other from a few weeks ago when we got another look at our baby.

I can say without any doubt that having Ellie in my life has only made it better. She has become my sounding board for when I'm frustrated, my motivation to score more goals, and my ray of sunshine on any cloudy day.

I knew from that first date that Ellie was the one for me, no one can tell me otherwise. And now she is carrying our first child. My heart continues to grow and fall in love with this amazing, kind, dedicated, caring, loving, and perfect woman each day.

I am so lucky to spend time with you each day and anyone who says otherwise is wrong and jealous of what we have.

Min skat, I am so excited to watch our family grow and experience the joys and challenges of parenthood with you. Ellie I love you and can't wait to see where we go next.

Together.

The tears started flowing before I even read the caption, the pictures enough with my pregnancy hormones. But the words William managed to write push me over the edge, I was crying at the love he put into the words but also laughing at the not so subtle 'fuck you' to all the nasty people who sent you messages.

"Did I overstep? I don’t want to embarrass you."

"It's perfect. You're perfect. I love you."

"I love you too, and I plan on showing you that everyday. Even if it is something as simple as an Instagram post."

"It's not just the post, it's that you are saying to all the people who see your pictures and then come trash talk to me that you know about them. And that will probably stop some of them from doing it again. And anyone who doesn't get the message gets blocked."

"Good. Now, let go watch some TV and cuddle." Nodding grabbing my plate of food, following William to the couch before curling into his side.

As William pulled up the next episode of a show we were binging, I thought of something. "You never have told me what 'min skat' means."

"It means 'my treasure'. And it reminds me how lucky I am every day to have you in my life."

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noona-clock · 4 years ago

Text

The Counselor - Part 3

Genre: Teacher!AU

Pairing: Bobby x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Sexism, Somewhat verbal abuse

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,617

As usual, the weekend went by far too quickly.

Truly, whoever thought that a five-day workweek was a good idea -- whoever had invented that -- you wanted to have a talk.

When you really think about it, how did it make sense that out of seven days in the week, you should go to work for five of them? Why not four? A four-day workweek and a three-day weekend would make the world a much better place, you were convinced.

But, alas. There was nothing you could do to change that right now.

The fact that it was now the second week of school helped a little, though. The second was much easier than the first week, and basically from here on out, the weeks would go by in a flash.

I mean, Monday had already come and gone, and that was the worst day of the week! You’d already gotten it over with!

But now you had to prepare for the pre-test you were giving all of your classes tomorrow. Apparently, you had gotten a bit too overzealous when cleaning out your cabinets during planning, and you’d ended up throwing the test you’d used last year in the recycling bin.

But, hey. If you were going to work late creating a test, it might as well be on a Monday, right?

Just after you opened up your favorite test creator website, there was a soft knock on your door. You always left your door open after school, but you still called out for the guest to come in.

“Hey,” Bobby greeted before you even had the chance to shift your gaze and see who it was.

“Oh, hey,” you replied with a small grin, very quickly glancing at him before getting back to work. Bobby was probably the only co-worker you knew wouldn’t get offended if you didn’t give him your full attention when he came to see you.

“Whatcha up to?” he asked casually as he shuffled over toward your desk.

With a sigh, you answered, “I’m giving a pre-test tomorrow, but I guess I accidentally trashed the one I gave last year. Gotta make a new one.”

As he usually did, Bobby perched on the edge of your desk, and he grabbed the stress ball from next to your pen holder. “Sounds fun,” he murmured as he threw the stress ball gently up into the air and caught it when it came back down.

You simply hummed unenthusiastically in response and continued typing away on your laptop.

For the next minute or two, the only sounds in your classroom were the clacking of your keyboard and soft thuds of Bobby throwing your stress ball up and down.

This was one reason why you enjoyed and valued your friendship with Bobby so much. He could come to your classroom to talk but the two of you may not end up talking at all -- he didn’t mind. And neither did you.

Still, though, after you finished a few questions, you let out a soft sigh and turned your head wearily over to look at him.

“How was your day?” you asked.

Bobby paused, holding the stress ball in his hand and squeezing it as he looked back at you. “Pretty good, I guess,” he shrugged. “It was Monday, and my appointments are starting to pick up, so the school year is in full swing, I guess.”

“Yep,” you replied with a slight frown. “First week is over, so now the real work begins.”

You let out a mix between a whine and a groan as you leaned back against your chair, spinning around slowly and letting your arms hang down over the armrests.

“Hard at work, I see!”

You immediately sat up, ignoring the inward cringe you felt at hearing that particular voice. You wondered how long it would take you to get used to Principal Howell -- surely, you wouldn’t dislike him for the entire school year.

...Right?

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Howell,” Bobby answered, and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smiling that angelic but professional smile of his. “I really shouldn’t be bothering Y/N because she’s trying to get ready for her pre-test tomorrow, but she’s too nice to tell me to leave.”

Truly, thank god for Bobby. You were a nice person, but you weren’t too nice -- you most likely would’ve responded to the principal’s comment with something far too sassy to be considered professional.

“Aha,” Mr. Howell chuckled, wagging a finger toward the two of you. “Sounds like a woman to me.”

You began to push yourself out of your chair, ready to retort back with something even more sassy, but Bobby interrupted you.

“Thanks for checking in, Sir,” he said.

Mr. Howell either understood Bobby’s covert request to leave you alone or he was too stupid to and simply had other things to do (if you were a betting person, you would bet it was the latter) because he shot Bobby a grin and left.

“Are you serious?” you hissed, barely waiting long enough for your boss to be out of earshot. “What the --”

“It was definitely sexist,” Bobby agreed.

You let out a strangled groan and practically threw yourself back against your seat, your strength forceful enough to spin your desk chair around about 180 degrees. “And it’s only the second week!” you cried, throwing two fingers up into the air for emphasis.

Bobby sighed, and all of a sudden, your chair was spinning back around to face him. “If you hear him say anything more, let me know. I’ll start keeping documentation and talk to one of the assistant principals.”

...Had you ever said just how grateful you were to be friends with the school’s guidance counselor? Bobby wasn’t afraid to take care of problems, but he never did it in aggressive way, and you just appreciated that so much.

“Thank you,” you nodded, making sure to look him right in the eyes so he understood you really meant it.

Bobby simply replied with a close-lipped smile before putting your stress ball back beside your pen holder and sliding off your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said as he made his way over to your door. “And let me know if you hear anything else so I can add it to my notes.”

You brought two fingers to your forehead and gave him a quick salute. He returned the gesture just before he stepped into the hallway, making a soft, amused grin appear on your lips.

Normally, you would procrastinate right now. You would’ve told Bobby he didn’t need to leave, and the two of you would’ve start talking about whatever conversation topics came to mind.

But you knew you were going to have to stay late creating this pre-test, and the more you procrastinated, the later you would be here.

So, you sat up straighter in your chair and got right back to work.

“Happy Hump Day, Ms. Y/L/N!” one of the students in your last period class said with a smirk as he waved good-bye to you from your doorway.

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Daniel.”

And just before he had fully left your classroom, you called out, “And don’t forget your homework tomorrow! Yesterday’s and today’s!”

“Absolutely!” you heard his voice reply faintly, and you wondered to yourself what the odds were he would actually turn it all in tomorrow afternoon.

You shook your head to yourself, a half-grin tugging at your lips as you began to straighten up your desk. While students like Daniel could be a handful... they were also kinda your favorite ones. Daniel, specifically, was very outgoing and loud -- not to mention forgetful and lazy -- but he was also sweet, thoughtful, and genuinely funny. He made up for the fact he forgot to do his homework 3 out of 4 days with how often he made you laugh or smile -- at least, in your eyes he made up for it. Surely not every one of his teachers felt the same way, but hey. What could you do?

As you put your pens back in your pen cup, your gaze scanned over your calendar to see what was planned for tomorrow -- and then you saw the note for Victoria’s tutoring today.

Oh, yeah!

You had remembered during your third period class earlier today, but you had already forgotten. Such is the life of a busy math teacher -- and that was exactly why you wrote things down so often. If you didn’t, you would never remember anything.

Right on cue, there was a soft knock on your door.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Victoria’s sweet voice called out, and when you looked up to greet her, you saw she wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows slightly. You recognized the girl standing next to Victoria as one from your first period class, but you couldn’t pull her name, even from the recesses of your mind.

“I brought Lisa with me,” Victoria explained. “Is that okay?”

Lisa! Yep, that was it. Lisa.

“Of course,” you assured them, gesturing toward the small, kidney bean-shaped table in the back of your classroom. “The more the merrier. ...Except not really because if too many people come for tutoring, it’ll turn into just another class period, and no teacher wants that after school.”

Both Victoria and Lisa giggled as they approached the table, taking off their backpacks and getting out their math textbooks.

You joined them at the table with a grin, pulling out the chair in the notch of the table and sitting down. “Where shall we begin? Anything in particular so far that you want to go over?”

Lisa answered that the lesson you’d taught today had been hard for her to follow, so you started there, having them flip to the chapter in the textbook you’d focused on just a few hours ago.

Since your lesson hadn’t clicked with either of them, you took a different approach to it this time. You used visual aids and tried to think of applicable examples -- especially examples that two teenage girls would appreciate. You had Lisa and Victoria come up with their own examples to make sure they understood, and then you began helping them with the first few questions on their homework.

“Good,” you praised Victoria after checking her solution to the second problem. “Do you feel better about it?”

“A little --”

But Victoria was interrupted by someone -- a male someone -- clearing his throat.

The noise came from your doorway, so you quickly shifted your gaze to see who it --

Oh, lord.

It was Principal Howell.

...And he did not look happy.

“Hi, Sir,” you greeted with a softly wrinkled forehead. “Can I help you?”

“What is going on here?” he asked in clipped tones.

He didn’t sound happy, either.

“I’m just helping them with --”

Mr. Howell stepped into your room, his chest puffed up and his eyebrows raised menacingly. “I don’t recall signing off on this,” he interrupted.

Your heart began to beat a little bit faster. You really didn’t like the way he was speaking, and you especially didn’t like that he was coming toward you.

“Oh, I --”

“I’m sure you’re aware, Ms. Y/L/N, that all after-school activities must be approved? By myself?” he asked, his tone nothing short of patronizing and condescending.

He had stepped too close to the table for your comfort, and since you didn’t want Lisa and Victoria to be physically in the middle of this, you quickly stood, almost knocking your chair over in the process.

“I --”

“I know that you young teachers have all these ideas and think you’re going to change the system, but I specifically said ALL --”

He raised his voice then, and you jumped a little.

“After-school activities need to be approved by me!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I just thought--”

“Well, it’s very obvious you weren’t thinking, Ms. Y/L/N,” he snapped.

Inside, you were fuming. You were mortified. Terrified. Angry, embarrassed, and scared all rolled into one. You wanted to retort back with something smart and sassy. You wanted to tell him just what you thought of his stupid policy and his sexist remarks.

But on the outside... you found you just couldn’t. You could only gulp nervously and stammer and wring your hands together and --

“Mr. Howell.”

Suddenly, Bobby was standing next to the principal. You jumped a little again, and your heart sped up.

What was Bobby doing here?

Mr. Howell’s glare briefly shifted over to Bobby, and he muttered, “Ah, Mr. Kim. Hello.”

“My apologies, Sir,” Bobby said in his most confident yet casually polite voice. “This is my fault.”

Your brow knit together with confusion. This was all what now?

Mr. Howell looked just as confused as you felt, though there was definitely also some skepticism in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he asked Bobby.

“I told her tutoring probably doesn’t count as an activity, so she didn’t need to get your permission,” Bobby answered.

...Oh my god. Bobby was taking the blame.

Even though it was actually the opposite -- he had warned you about the new approval policy, but you had assured him tutoring didn’t count.

“I’m so sorry,” Bobby added.

Bobby had been shuffling around as he spoke, and somehow, he was now fully in-between Mr. Howell and the table, successfully blocking the principal’s view of you.

“I assume she has your approval now?” Bobby asked. “Since it’s just two students, one day a week.”

You held your breath. For some reason, you were convinced Mr. Howell would refuse to give his permission.

But, to your utter surprise and relief, he murmured, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Perfect,” Bobby replied with a grin. “Actually, while I have you, I was wondering if you could take a look at something in my office?”

You held your breath as Bobby escorted Mr. Howell out of your classroom, only letting it out in a short huff when you could no longer hear their footsteps out in the hallway.

You deflated back into your chair and let your head drop onto the table with a thud.

Wow.

That had been --

Wow.

Wow wow wow wow -- oh, god, you weren’t alone.

Immediately, you picked your head back up to look at Lisa and Victoria sitting across from you. “Girls, I am so --”

Both of them looked completely in awe, and apparently, your words were just the sign they needed to spill all of their thoughts.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” they both burst out, their voices somewhat breathless.

“That was so --”

“Mr. Kim!”

“He came to your rescue --”

“Oh, it was so romantic!”

Your head jerked back in surprise when you hear the word romantic.

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, doing nothing to hide the confusion in your tone.

Lisa’s eyes widened, and she asked with wondrous curiosity, “Is Mr. Kim your boyfriend?”

You almost choked on the air you were breathing, but you managed to answer her. “No -- friends. We’re just friends.”

Both Victoria and Lisa’s eyebrows lowered, and they glanced at each other knowingly.

“Are you... sure?” Victoria asked.

“Yes, I am quite sure,” you assured them. “And I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to divulge my personal life. We are just friends.”

They looked at each other again, but this time it was long enough to make you nervous.

So, you asked, “...Why?”

Both girls’ heads whipped back around to face you.

“Well,” Lisa began.

“We think he likes you,” Victoria finished.

Part 4

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years ago

Text

one day...

Hi, y’all! Sorry there’s been such a delay for Chapter 2. I’ve been super busy with school and dance and other activities and all that. Also, I decided about halfway through my original Chapter 2 that I was going to alternate between Virgil and Roman’s perspectives so I had to start a new chapter from scratch. But that means that now-Chapter 3 has already been started, so hopefully I’ll have it done by Friday this week!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of a possible fight/hospital. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,919

anyway, here it is!

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CHAPTER TWO

Roman Princeford is absolutely, completely, terribly humiliated.

He can’t stop blushing in embarrassment, and it only makes it worse when the classes are boring and he can't stop his mind from drifting to that morning. Like now, for example.

Stupid, stupid Roman, he chastises himself. Why didn’t you notice him there, you oblivious dumbass?

He groans and buries his head in his hands.

“Is something wrong, Roman?” the math teacher asks. “Do you need help?” Yes, but not the help you can give me, Roman thinks. He takes a breath and fixes a dazzling smile on.

“No, Mrs. Perry, I’m doing fine! Thank you for your offer of assistance, however!” he exclaims in his usual lyrical way. Roman always makes an effort to seem like he’s reading off a script, especially one where there’s a heroic prince he can play. It always makes him feel better when he plays a part. Then, Roman can imagine that he is the character. The same qualities, traits, life, everything.

He can ignore how stupid he is and pretend he’s a brave, dashing prince. The princes in stories would never have the problems Roman’s been having.

Mrs. Perry walks off, rolling her eyes, not without fondness, and Roman turns back to his math. Shoving his mind out of fantasy, he tries to solve the problems. It seems like he’s gotten nowhere by the time the bell rings. Throwing his paper into his bag, he hurries out of the room.

“Heya, Roman!” Patton Hart, his best friend, calls through the throng of people. Roman slows down so Patton can catch up. “How ya doing?”

“Uhh, Patton, I am a disaster!” Roman proclaims. “You’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“Oh no! What did you do this time?” Patton asks jokingly as they enter the classroom. History is one of the few classes they have together, so they always walk from fifth period there.

“I was telling a story, a great one, mind you, and knocked over a poor, innocent student!” Roman throws down his bag next to his seat and plops into the hard plastic chair. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was who I hit!” Pausing for dramatic effect, Roman finishes, “It was Virgil! I knocked over Virgil Tempest!”

Patton’s mouth forms a small ‘o’. He starts to laugh, but after seeing how embarrassed Roman is, he stops and places a hand on his shoulder. “What did he say?”

“Nothing much. Just some mumble-jumble. But now I can’t stop thinking about him! I didn’t get a single thing done in math! It’s terrible, Patton. My entire life is all going to go downhill from here! I’ll become ineligible for the play because I’m failing all my classes! I won’t be able to graduate, and then I’ll have to work.” He shudders. “That’s it! I’m done for. I’ll never accomplish anything!” He collapses back against the chair for dramatic effect. He knows he’s being very extra, but honestly, what else does anyone expect at this point? He’s Roman Princeford, after all.

If only I were the brave, loud, daring person the whole school thinks I am.

“Woah, woah, woah there buddy!” Patton comforts. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You aren’t going to fail high school. You just gotta tell him how you feel! Then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

Roman looks at Patton in shock.

“Tell him how I feel?” Patton nods, encouraging. Roman sits back up. “And make a fool of myself yet again? No thank you! He hates me, you know that! I’d be better off flunking high school! How could I look into those beautiful brown eyes in that beautiful face and tell him I had a crush on him! Impossible, I say! Impossible!” He throws out his hands, but then remembers that the exact same movement started this whole thing. Quickly, his hands fall back to his sides.

Patton chuckles. “It’s not as hard as you think, Ro-ro! You’ll do great. And I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.” Roman sighs. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“Boys in the back,” the history teacher says, shooting a look at Roman and Patton, “it’s time for class. Pay attention please.” They both nod at turn away from each other and towards the board.

Roman doesn’t pay attention to a single word of the lecture. All he can think about is Virgil’s freckles and his eyes and his lips and his laugh, which Roman had only heard briefly while walking past him but loved nonetheless. How come I’ve never noticed that Virgil had freckles before? he wonders. Goddammit, is that boy just going to keep getting more and more amazing?

Roman chuckles to himself, thinking, Oh my god, I’m so gay. Deciding he should probably start listening to what the teacher is saying, he shoves any and all thoughts of Virgil from his mind and fills the gaps with information about the buildup to World War 1.

After class, Patton rushes up to him. He pulls Roman to the side of the hallway in a little nook where the row of lockers end.

“After school, you should come with me to this coffee shop,” Patton says, a little smile on his face. Roman knows that smile. He’s up to no good.

“Why?” His voice rises with suspicion at the end of the word.

“My lab partner, Logan Wise, you know him, said that we should meet up to work on our project after school.” A blush rises to Patton’s cheeks causing Roman to smirk as he figures it out.

“Someone’s got a cru-ush,” Roman teases, voice sing-songy and laughing.

“That’s not the point,” Patton says, blushing even harder.

“Fine.” Roman lowers his voice to a whisper. “But you can’t hide it from me. I’m the love whisperer, remember?” Throughout their years of high school, Roman had been responsible for setting up many couples. It’s gotten to a point where almost every day, he has someone walk up to him, asking him to help set them up with whoever their crush happens to be.

“Well, maybe I have a crush, but so do you. And you do know who Logan’s best friend is, right?” Patton responds, that same mischievous smile. Roman chuckles, looking around in a fond mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Virgil,” he finally says. Patton’s smile grows wider. “Look, I told you. I can’t talk to him. I’ll just make a fool of myself!”

“Fine,” Patton says. “Suit yourself.” He pats Roman on the shoulder and starts to walk away. Before he’s completely out of sight, he turns and yells, “Just think about it, okay?” Roman rolls his eyes at his friend’s shameless attempts to set him up and heads to choir.

------------------

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Roman shuts his locker with a bang. He joins the flood of people heading towards the front doors. He spills out of the school and heads towards his car. Once he’s only a few yards away, he unlocks the doors and dumps his things inside the passenger door. After waving to a few other kids on their way out that he knows, he gets into the driver’s side.

Alone, finally, Roman allows himself to drop the fake smile. Ugh, you goddamn idiot. How did you not notice him there? Now he hates you even more. Good going, Roman! Love whisperer, yeah right.

If only I could just talk to him…

Shoving his embarrassment and frustration aside, he starts the car and pulls out of the school, heading home. His route home winds its way through the downtown streets. Roman is so used to driving the same streets, he’s startled to notice something unordinary.

A few cars ahead of him is Patton’s silver car. What is he doing over here? Patton lives on the opposite side of downtown as Roman, and while the town is relatively small, it’s still strange. Roman is sure he’s never seen Patton drive this way home before.

Turning onto 4th Street, Roman watches Patton, now directly ahead of him, park in an open spot in front of one of the little shops lining the street. The sign above says “The Sanders Cafe” in swirly cursive lettering. A decal of a little cupcake sitting next to a cup of coffee accompanies it.

Oh, right, Roman remembers. Patton and Logan were meeting up to work on their chemistry thingy.

And Virgil is probably going to be there. No matter how much he tries to block the thought, it still shows up. Roman has tried to get Virgil out of his mind, but it never works. He always pops up when Roman least expects it. Frankly, Roman finds it quite frustrating.

Lost in thought, Roman turns one intersection too early. “I guess I’ll just go around the block,” he sighs. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to crashing when he got home. The detour would only cost about 5 minutes but still. Annoying.

Roman’s phone buzzes in the center console while he’s waiting to turn back onto 4th Street, the one with the cafe on it. One quick glance down at it tells Roman it’s from Patton. Checking the road to make sure he has the time, he looks back to read what it says.

“Patton…” he groans.

“I think you should come to the cafe with me. I’m waiting outside. Just give it a chance, kiddo!” reads the text message. However much Roman would like to deny it, he does want to go with Patton. On impulse, he finds a parking spot and pulls in. Patton is parked a few spots down, still sitting in his car. He hasn’t noticed Roman yet, and Roman’s glad for that.

“Come on, Roman,” he says, trying to give himself a pep talk. “Think about what a prince would do. He’d charge in there without a second thought. It wouldn’t matter what would happen because it would be in the name of love. You got this. What’s the worst that could happen, besides Virgil hating the sight of you so much he instantly fights you the second he sees you and you lose and have to go to the hospital and become the laughing stock of the school because while under anesthesia you admit your feelings for Virgil and now everyone knows and—”

A knock on the driver’s side window cuts Roman’s worrying off. When Roman looks up, he sees Patton’s grinning face. The other boy waves enthusiastically and gives him a thumbs up.

You got this. Be a prince, Roman. It’s in your name, after all. Taking a deep breath and clenching his fists in determination, Roman grabs his phone off the console and double checks to make sure he has his wallet.

Patton practically assaults him the moment he steps outside the car, talking in a rapid stream of words, but Roman can’t hear anything over the ever-increasing beating of his heart. They walk up to the front door, Patton ahead of Roman, still rambling about something from foods class.

The moment they walk in, the little silver bell dinging above them, Roman forgets all his worries because there Virgil is, sitting in a booth with another boy, — Logan, probably — his hair falling in front of his face, teeth gnawing on his lip in concentration and Oh god, that boy is beautiful.

And then Virgil looks up at them, and Roman swears he can feel his heart drop all the way to the ground.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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ughgclden · 3 years ago

Note

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

#asks <3 #anon asks!#star anon #long post

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lockedstuck · 3 years ago

Text

beyond our fury and our silences

2021, 04/17 - Sollux Captor

You envy the patients on the unit who have a “normal” to return to. You never have, and never will. You’ve had periods of more gentle oscillation, like high school as opposed to the jagged highs and equally disruptive lows of your undergraduate years. However, you haven’t been “normal” in terms of psychopathology since you were a kid.

Dr. Vandayar suggests that perhaps your childhood years did a number on your sanity, though not word for word. He’s way more polite about it. You kind of want to hit him for it.

Your dad did his absolute best to raise you, all seventy hour weeks to afford summer camp for gifted kids and SHSAT prep classes. So did your mother, teaching you math and history, even if she was psychotic, even when her mental landscape frequently shifted like sand on the beach.

Once, when you were maybe ten, she came home an hour late from a quick run to the grocery store five blocks away. She explained, gentle yet adamant, that people had decided to follow her home, and she did not want them to know where she was going. What if they’d decided to rob her? Your dad sighed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She sat at the dining room table later, repeatedly drawing pictures of seashells. When you sat down next to her, and pulled your chair close so that you could see her work, she started to explain the Fibonacci sequence to you. It wasn’t hard to understand adding the sums of the two previous numbers together. She launched into another explanation of the not unrelated golden ratio, and you just sat there and let her go on for a while, even when you didn’t quite understand.

She took out a nautilus shell that she had fashioned into a necklace, showed it to you, and wound up giving it to you. When you asked her why, she smiled and shrugged. You continue to wear it underneath your clothing.

Perhaps you’ll give it to Feferi when she gets discharged, given her love of all things aquatic. At this rate, she’ll probably get out before you do, what with the nine ECT treatments you still have to complete.

Out of nowhere, Roxy walks over to you, and you glance up at her. You know by now that whatever comes out of her mouth will be either offensive, amusing, or both.

“Aradia’s on the phone for you, Lispy! Hey, could you tell her something for me?”

You stand up and stretch, fingertips toward the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Tell her that her voice is really cute, but that she’s way cuter in person,” she replies. “Wait, hold up. Tell me she’s not straight. Is she straight? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

You don’t know whether or not to answer truthfully. You should probably ask Aradia about that beforehand. You walk over to the pay phone, and put the receiver to your mouth.

“Ray? Is that you?”

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. Then, a pause that stretches into infinity, or ten whole seconds at the very least. “Is it okay if I visit tonight instead of tomorrow? One of my students is actually attending my office hours, which--”

“--overlap with my visiting hours,” you finish. Maybe you should have let her complete her sentence.

You’re tetchy and impatient, the first thing having been induced by your session with Dr. Vandayar, and the second by the fact that next week will mark one whole month since you arrived at this hospital, and what precisely do you have to show for it?

Roxy’s almost completely weaned off methadone and will probably leave next week, to go to inpatient rehab. June is going home the Monday after next. Feferi got here the same day as you and will most certainly be gone the same week as June. Eridan will be gone before you finish out your ECT treatments, since his conclude next week, as will Karkat, Porrim, and probably even Calliope. The only person who may not leave before you is Latula, and although she’s perfectly kind, you don’t know her very well.

You didn’t realize how long you’ve stewed in your thoughts until you hear Aradia ask, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted to come tonight as opposed to tomorrow. That’s fine.”

“And what about you?” she asks.

You shrug.

“What about me?”

“Are you fine?”

The only person you suck at lying to more than Aradia is your father, and your dad is only leading by a narrow margin. That may be why you signed a HIPPA release so that your treatment team could talk to both of them.

“I had a weird therapy session today. Normally I get along with my therapist, but today I almost wanted to punch him in the face.”

Aradia asks if you’d like to talk about it, and your kneejerk is to say, “hell no”, but during another therapy session a couple of days ago, Dr. Vandayar stressed the importance of not being unwilling to depend on one’s support team. As vaguely annoyed as you still are at him, you did concede the point on Monday afternoon.

“I guess it was because… well… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like an asshole. He didn’t actually say anything that wasn’t true, but maybe it was the way he said it? I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ray, I’m rambling all over the fucking place.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go on.”

“He pretty much said that my situation with my parents could have contributed a lot to why I’m all fucked up in the head. Not currently, but like, before, when I was a kid. I was like, where exactly does this guy get off making that kind of judgment? And then I was like, dude, you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, so how do you know? ‘Cause my parents, they did the absolute best they could with what they had. I mean, I didn’t say that to him, but I felt it. And I felt angry at him about it.”

A long silence, one that you feel sink down to the pit of your stomach.

“Well.”

“Well, what?”

“I get that you’re upset, but Sollux, it’s not like this is something you’ve never said to me.”

“But Aradia, that’s different. I was there. So were you, for parts of it. You’ve met my parents a billion times. But aside from a few conversations with you and Baba, Dr. V barely knows anything about my life. For him to say it like that… I don’t like it. I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“Because it seems like he’s judging people and events he hasn’t had the opportunity to witness first-hand.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s it!”

It feels like an indictment against your family, and if you are anything to a fault, you are loyal to Mituna and your parents. All of them came together for you, the youngest, the most successful. Even being here, unable to provide for them both emotionally and financially, feels like the worst blow in the world.

You shouldn’t be here getting the memory zapped out of you in some last-ditch effort to quell your mania and depression. You should be outside working, seeing to the needs of someone besides yourself. You should be meeting Aradia at her apartment every other night, helping her clean out her apartment, which quickly devolves into chaos, ashtrays full of spent cigarette butts, and dishes piling up in the sink, as she scrambles to finish up her master’s thesis.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from your father, it is that you are what you contribute, and being here, seemingly unable to contribute anything, might just be the worst sensation in the world.

You’re alone with yourself here, face to face with everything you hate about yourself, with all your aspirations and all your neuroses, and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it, you want out so badly. But what if they don’t let you leave and you end up at your mother’s worst fear - involuntary status? If four weeks of hospitalization seem like hell, what about sixty days, your fate handed down via court order?

What if that knee-jerk desire to 72 hour letter yourself away from thrice weekly therapy sessions is just another trap? What if you leave and try to slit your throat again? What if you actually succeed this time around? Who the fuck is going to take care of your family?

It all comes down to that.

You’d rather like to bang your head against the wall until you either make things clearer or knock yourself out.

“I’ll be there tonight, Sollux,” Aradia says, suddenly. Not for the first time, you wonder if she can read your mind and tell when you’re starting to decompensate more than usual.

Aradia gets there long before six o’ clock. In fact, you notice her tell-tale garnet-colored blazer, as you look through the small rectangular window in the door of the main unit, sometime around 5:20. A woman in a small black dress stands not far away from her, and once you notice her carefully coiffed blonde hair, you walk over to the women’s side of the unit and loudly knock on Roxy’s door.

“And what can I do for you?” she asks, removing the headphone radio that has all but been surgically attached to her head. “Do you have news about Aradia’s sexual orientation?”

You roll your eyes at her, more to keep up appearances than an actual rebuke.

“Your mom’s here,” you reply.

Roxy seems to consider this, then picks up her stuffed cat from her bed and pads into the hallway. Calliope waves at you, the light on their side of the room switched on so they can write. You wave back, then follow Roxy back to the main door of the unit, to resume your little vigil.

You stand without word or gesture, a good six feet away from the door so the night staff doesn’t bitch. They seem to have given up on Roxy, who stands only two feet away from the door and jumps up and down as she waves to her mom. Her mom waves back, though in a more sedate fashion than her child.

You rather like Ms. Lalonde, honestly. It’s hard to dislike a family member who comes so often. According to Roxy, she only misses Mondays for work related reasons. You think the only person who has her beat in terms of visiting is June’s dad, who has yet to miss a day of seeing his daughter, at least during your stay here.

After about ten minutes of furious waving, Roxy starts doing the YMCA with her arms. Her mother actually returns the motions.

Aradia glances at her, cracks up, and giggles helplessly, which makes you smile.

When they finally start letting visitors in, Aradia steps behind Ms. Lalonde without a word. Aradia signs the book after her, and then Mr. Egbert signs after that.

Maybe he smuggled a whole ass lemon meringue pie onto the unit. You’d probably kiss him if he did that, and you’re pretty sure macking on your friend’s hot dad is frowned upon in most situations.

Aradia walks into the unit, and it’s only a moment before you’ve scooped her up into your arms. You’re so skinny that Karkat calls you a walking skeleton comprised of caffeine and spite, and Aradia has more curves than a parametric equation. You still manage to pick her up so her toes momentarily leave the ground, pull her close, and kiss her forehead before you let her go.

She interlaces your fingers with hers.

“What table are we sitting at tonight?” she wants to know, gazing at the sea of round wooden tables in the dining room.

“The one by the window, in the corner,” you decide, after a moment’s thought. The chairs are heavy, so they can’t be thrown across the unit by angry patients you suppose, but you pull out your chair and sit down easily enough. It occurs to you that maybe you should have pulled hers out, but she gets the job done.

You sit right beside her, and before you can think on it, you let her pull you close. Your head on her shoulder, and your arm thrown around her back. It’s not the most comfortable position, but she smells like lilies, cocoa butter, cigarettes, and home.

You bring to mind all the animal skulls on her shelves, all the volumes of dead poets stacked haphazardly around them. Everything has been arranged to display her fixation on things that have shuffled off this mortal coil, for the exception of the flourishing plants on her terrace.

Her arms come up around your shoulders, and she scoots over so the position is more comfortable for your lanky ass. She presses a kiss to your temple, and then to the shell of your ear. You smile in spite of yourself.

It occurs to you that you have not had a self-loathing thought since she arrived.

It’s easier to not hate yourself when someone who would either try to refute or talk you through your issues sits beside you, singing softly.

“Tastes like strawberries on a summer evening. And it sounds just like a song...”

You snort. “I had no idea you were so fond of Harry Styles.”

She stops singing for the moment, but you’ve already started to hum the next part of the song, while she explains where she first heard it.

“My neighbor used to like to sit on her balcony and listen to the radio while I talked to my fig tree. It was on constant replay on Z100. And it’s catchy. So I sang it. A lot.”

You imagine Aradia as she sings, the long dark curls of her hair unpinned the way they usually are when she’s at home, moving along to the music as she waters her plants. It’s a nice mental image, the kind you wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

Here is one way you might safeguard yourself from the impulses and the dorco razor-blades.

You can’t watch Aradia bustle around her apartment if you’re not alive. You can’t help her, or your dad in their gardens - why do so many of your loved ones have an affinity for plants when you can barely keep a cactus alive - if you’re six feet under.

You also cannot remind her of her own neglected tasks - “Aradia, c’mon, you have to wash these dishes, there’s fuckin’ fruit flies here, I hate fruit flies.” - and then watch as she makes a meal with the newly washed dishes just so that she knows you’ve eaten that day.

You think she’d give an approving nod to your thoughts.

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. You glance at her face, the anxiety written across it.

That won’t do. You never liked seeing her worried about anything.

“Yeah, Ray? What’s going on?”

“When you get out of here, after all your treatments are finished, I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

She exhales slowly. She takes your hand in hers. You let the warmth suffuse through you.

“Would you like to move in with me? I know you need to be close to your family, but it’s just the F to the 7 train to get to Flushing.”

You consider this. You’ve known Aradia since the sixth grade, and you are now twenty-seven, which adds up to something like sixteen years of friendship. Aradia knows you like nobody else. Not even your father.

She’s handled your weird mood shit and chronic suicidality with more skill than some clinicians you’ve had. In return, you’ve kept her alive - her parents coddled her to a fault, and she had next to no idea how the world outside academia functioned - and helped her through her occasional bouts of clinical depression.

“You’ll take me to Essex Market and get me that bougie vegan cheese?” you ask.

There are more questions, several in fact, that you need answered before you give her a decision, but you’ll start with the inanities and work your way up to the logistics.

“When have I not?” she replies.

You snort.

“How much am I going to pay in rent, for one?”

Aradia seems to consider this for a moment.

“For now, nothing, since you’re not working, and I’m already covering my rent with my job,” she says. “But once you get a job, I’d like you to kick something in. Not too much.”

“Where would I even sleep?”

“The couch in the main room is a pullout. And even If you wanted to sleep in my room, I think I have enough space for another bed.”

You think it over, and some traitorous part of your brain bristles at what is essentially charity from her. Her family - comfortably upper middle class - must be helping her with rent. There is no way in hell that she scored a one bedroom near Bowery on her salary as an adjunct professor. You don’t know what they’d think of letting you live there, or maybe you do, and that’s why you’re hesitant to accept this. They’ve come to actually like you, but you’re not eager to test out how far that goes.

She must sense your hesitation. She once more interlaces her fingers with yours, and lets out a small sigh.

“At least think it over, Sollux.”

“You know I will.”

“I think we function better when we’re in the same place than when we’re not.”

You grin. “You know it.”

The other thing that gives you pause consists of your own confusing feelings about her.

Some days you want to kiss her senseless, peel her out of that red jacket, the black tank top, the long gray skirt. You want to see her, and only her. You want to shed your t-shirt and skinny jeans and have her see you. You want to hold her, press against her, and have her return the gesture. Your longing to be as close to her as humanly possible sweeps over you like a wave, and you have never been known for any particular skill at swimming.

Other days, you just want to sit next to her and make fun of her when she sings Watermelon Sugar. Or like the time she forgot her umbrella at home, a torrential downpour decided to strike and you had to run to the Second Avenue F train station and hope you got there in time to catch her. Still, more recently, the pair of you playing video games and swearing at each other with a giant container of mapo tofu between you. You want the easy rhythm of your close friendship, something familiar, and easy to navigate.

Most of all, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if you take the plunge and alter the parameters of your relationship, that you’ll lose her entirely if things don’t pan out. And where the hell would you be without her?

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

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Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned?

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did.

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies).

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more.

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee.

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee.

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious!

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period.

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid.

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts.

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry.

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

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marvxlousqueen · 5 years ago

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Warren Worthington- Tease

requested by anon: Hi!! , i was wondering if you could write something where the reader can read minds and she can hear that warren has a massive crush on her, so she always act confident in front of him. And maybe some smut with sub warren??

word count: 1.8K

A/N: this took forever i am so sorry! also i didn’t have time for the smut :( but pls enjoy

Monday, September 16th. 7:42 am

(Y/n)’s eyes were half closed as she looked over her calculus quiz. Getting a pop quiz was never fun, but having a pop quiz during your first period? Well, that’s just the definition of hell.

She was supposed to be solving for a geometric limit (something she had studied for), but her brain hadn’t woken up yet. Instead, she turned to her mutation for answers. She looked towards Kurt who was seated in front of her. (Y/n) focused on him, trying to get into his head.

“As x approaches b? Vhat does that even mean?”

Kurt’s thoughts were no help, he seemed just as lost as she was. She moved to focus on Scott, who was seated a few chairs over from her. (Y/n) eyes flicked towards him, trying to not be noticed by the teacher.

(Y/n) finally got into his mind, just to be suddenly overwhelmed by noise.

“It’s the EYE OF THE TIGER! IT’S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT-”

Scott was too busy singing Survivor’s newest hit to himself to share answers.

(Y/n) let out a long sigh, looking around at the other students. She didn’t trust most of the kids enough to steal answers from them, but she figured she didn’t have many options either way.

Looking around to find someone smart, (Y/n)’s eyes were caught by the stark white of Warren’s wings. They looked so pristine under the florescent lighting, making him truly look like an angel.

Wonder what he’s thinking about, she thought to herself.

Despite liking him for so long, (Y/n) had managed to refrain from peeking into his mind, afraid he might find out and be upset with her (and also possibly afraid that she might hear that he likes someone else).

Before (Y/n) knew what was happening, she was inside Warren’s mind. She could hear his breath roaring in her ears.

“She’s not writing anything either- that’s a good sign. If she fails this quiz too, I won’t look stupid in front of her. Or maybe I should try and impress her. Or would I just look like a douche?”

Warren’s head was filled with thoughts surrounding a certain “she”. (Y/n) could only guess that he was talking about Ororo, who was only a few chairs in front of him. The two were very close, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he liked her (although she tried to push those thoughts away).

And that’s why you don’t spy on crushes, you only get hurt, she thought.

(Y/n) tried to make herself shut him out, but part of her wouldn’t let go. She was holding onto his words, somehow enjoying his nervous tone. It made her feel closer to him, having never seen that side of Warren. He was usually quiet, but it seemed like in his own head he tended to ramble on nervously. It was cute.

“Maybe she could tutor me- no what if she thinks I’m dumb, she wouldn’t date a dumb dude. But also we’d get to spend time together.”

Warren was running through pros and cons of asking the girl to tutor him, and he was being quite thorough, which (Y/n) thought was sweet. He really cared for this mystery girl (probably Ororo, but still not 100% sure.) and despite (Y/n)’s heart being crushed, she was happy he was happy.

“Plus (Y/n) has the same study hall as me so it could work out great! I guess I need to actually ask her- oh fuck I need to actually ask her.”

(Y/n) felt her jaw drop, her head whipping from the front of the room to face Warren. As she turned, she caught him staring at her. His faced turned red and he looked down at his quiz quickly.

Me? Holy fuck! He likes me!

(Y/n) quickly tuned into Warren’s thoughts once again, hearing him scold himself.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit- she saw me. It’s fine, you’re fine, Warren. Just play it cool. Keep it cool.”

(Y/n) bit down on her lip to repress her smile.

He. Likes. Me.

She turned to look back at Warren. His face was buried in his hands, his quiz pushed to the other side of the desk. It seemed he had given up on it.

Maybe I should ask if he wants tutoring, she thought.

(Y/n) figured Warren wouldn’t make the first move, so she planned to ask him during lunch that day.

She went through the rest of her morning classes like she was floating. Having her crush like her back was something that had never happened to her before. It was amazing.

Now the only thing was to somehow get Warren to ask her out. Although (Y/n) already knew how he felt, she didn’t want to make that move. She knew him well enough to know that he got embarrassed when girls did the “boy’s” job (toxic masculinity in the 80s, am i right?).

If she just acted a bit more confident and up front, he’d be sure to ask her out in no time.

As fourth period came to a close, (Y/n) went over what she wanted to say to Warren in her head. She wanted to offer tutoring help, but not accidentally make him feel dumb or act like she was better than him. (She was probably overthinking this, but she tended to do that around him).

The bell rang and she swung her bag over her shoulder, rushing down the stairs to get in line before it got too long. Looking ahead in line, she saw Warren near the front. Her breathing started to pick up and she went over her words once again.

After getting her food, she walked towards Warren’s table where he sat with Peter, Kurt, and Scott.

“Hey, Warren! And, uh, everyone else I guess.. Anyway! I was wondering if you wanted to study for math in the library after school some time? This unit is pretty hard and the test is next week so.. yeah.”

“Y-yeah! I mean uh, yes. I would like that, yeah. Today? Can we do today? I’m free after school.” His face was red and the words spilled out, unable to stop himself from totally embarrassing himself.

“Sure, yeah! I’m down. I’ll see you then,” she said as she walked away.

Warren nodded, licking his dry lips, “O-okay!”

Peter burst into laughter once (Y/n) was out of earshot, “God, that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What? Shut up! I was cool.”

“You were definitely not cool. You need to relax around her. Just chill.”

“Or,” Scott said in between bites of his pizza, “Just ask her out already and see what happens.”

“I can’t do that! It’s way to early for that! She’ll- she’ll say no and I can’t take that.”

Scott shrugged, “Fine. You’re suffering, not mine. Do what you wish.”

Warren huffed, returning to his food before the lunch period ended.

At 3:00 after his last class he pushed his way through the hallway and towards the library, wanting to beat (Y/n) there so he could get set up and look sophisticated. He opened the door, taking a seat at a table towards the back for privacy.

(Y/n) joined him about 5 minutes later, lips stretched into a smile. “Hey! Sorry, had to run upstairs to get my textbook.”

She sat down next to him, plopping the textbook on the table.

“Okay, so! Should we start with algebraic limits? I’m better with those.”

Warren nodded, cheeks red as (Y/n) stared at him, waiting for an answer. She flipped open the book and moved to pull out her notebook. As she was moving her hand brushed Warren’s, making him turn even redder.

He tried to follow Peter’s advice, but wasn’t any good at keeping his “chill” around the girl of his dreams.

She touched my hand!

(Y/n) laughed a little when she heard his inner voice. To mess with him further, she placed her hand on his arm while explaining the first practice problem.

She’s- She’s touching me! Oh god, she’s so pretty.

Her face heated up from Warren’s internal comments. (Y/n) flipped the page, reading out loud about the limit definition formula. Her right hand was flipping pages as her left fell to Warren’s thigh.

“So as x approaches h, you can use the same power rule to avoid solving for h and f...”

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. I- what the fuck.

Suddenly Warren coughed, his head whipping down and back up quickly, but (Y/n) continued reading as if she didn’t notice.

Oh god, will she notice I have a boner? Oh fuck, I’m awful!

(Y/n) suddenly choked on her words, looking at Warren quickly.

“Wh- I mean, uh, which problem should we start with?”

Warren shrugged, face bright red, “U-uhm, any is fine.”

They studied for the next hour and half, (Y/n)’s hand occasionally hitting Warren just to see his reaction.

After their studying session, (Y/n) returned to her dorm room, frustrated that Warren hadn’t asked her out when she was being so obvious that she liked him!

“I guess I need to do a little bit more,” she thought to herself.

The next day in their training period, she had decided to partner up with Warren (who of course immediately said yes). Raven was teaching about how to throw an opponent off balance by kicking out their legs from under them and pin them down.

Oh great, so I’ll be spending today on top of (Y/n), Warren thought. His face burned at the idea of (Y/n) pinning him down.

(Y/n) smiled, loving the way he blushed so easily. She spent the next half an hour repeatedly pinning him to the ground, smiling at him from above.

“Gotcha!”

Warren laughed, “S-sure do.”

By the end of training, Warren felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Not because he was tired, but because (Y/n) always made him breathless.

She approached him where he was drinking from the water fountain. “You’re cute when you blush, by the way.”

Warren spun around to face her, “T-thanks? Thanks. So, uh, so are you. Not- not just when you blush, I mean- like-”

“Thank you,” she cut off his rambling.

Ask me out! Ask me out! Please!, she thought.

Warren nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

You know what? Fuck this!, (Y/n) thought.

“I know you like me.”

“W-what?” he sputtered out. “I- I don’t, I don’t like you! W-where did you hear that?”

“Well, sorta heard it from you. I really didn’t mean to look into your head, it just kind of happened.”

Warren gulped, eyes wide, “O-oh. O-okay, sorry.”

“What, no don’t be sorry! I like you too!”

Warren let out a long breath, “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

“Just wanted to tease you a bit more.”

“That’s evil!”

“Oh, you love it.”

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @chxrrymoons@babebenhardy@rexorangecouny@cyndagoaway@killcomet@mcrmarvelloki@queen-turtle-boiii@hardlylo@ziggymay@jacqueline1916@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ixchel-9275@queen-baelin @radiob-l-a-hblah@kurt-nightcrawler@kellypenac@disaster-rose

hmu to be added!^

#Warren Worthington #Warren Worthington III #warren worthington iii smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader

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soobiniebaby · 4 years ago

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Angels & Devils Part IX : Magic Hour

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Yeonjun had been on cloud 9 the whole weekend.

Ever since he and Baby talked things out and she finally said yes to him that Friday, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from smiling. They had been texting ever since he had left her apartment.

Even the horrendously boring and rigid dinner he had with his parents that night became so much bearable since he had been texting her under the table nearly the whole time.

At the end of the day, he’d call her on FaceTime and they’d stay on video call until one of them would fall asleep.

On Saturday, he and the guys had hung out at Kai’s house. They all put together a care basket, each boy contributing a little gift or token along with a note, to wish B a speedy recovery. He had delivered it to B by the end of the day, stopping by her place for a quick visit as well.

“There’s a cute plushie from Hyuka, a novel highly recommended from Tyun, a collection of movies from Gyu, and handpicked snacks from Soobin. And there’s a get well soon card with a short message from each of us.” Yeonjun says, slowly laying out each boy’s gift in front of B. “Also, Soobin requests that you take a picture with his gift so you guys will have something to post for your project this week.” he adds.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to take a few pictures before devouring them.” B says, excitedly looking at the snacks. “Wow, these gifts are amazing. The boys are so sweet.” she says in awe, grabbing the plushie from Kai and holding it close to her chest.

“The boys? What about me? Aren’t I sweet?” Yeonjun asks.

“Well, I guess you are, but you didn’t get me a get-well-soon gift.” she says, pouting.

Yeonjun laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your get-well gift right here.” he says. When she raises a brow at him in confusion, he simply puts a finger under her chin and tilts it upward as he gives her a kiss, keeping it tender and sweet. He feels her smile against his lips and he pulls away, smiling back at her. “See? Bet you feel better already.” he says.

“Much better.” B smiles, feeling tingles all over her body. “Still no gift, though.”

Yeonjun stepped back, shocked. “Was that not enough for you? What more do you want from me?” he says, exaggeratingly putting a fist over his chest.

B laughs. “You’re so dramatic! Don’t get me wrong, your kisses are great, but I want a gift that’ll keep me from getting bored or feeling lonely while I’m on lockdown for the week. The boys’ gifts are all spot on.” she explains. “If I’m gonna be stuck alone here for the next few days, I’m gonna get bored and lonely.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect gift. You’ll see.” Yeonjun says mysteriously.

B raises a brow but raises no further questions. That night, she makes sure to take pictures and sends them to Soobin, each of them creating their own social media posts for their project.

When Sunday came, B decided to plan out her week of isolation, wanting to make it as productive as possible. First, she messaged the boys to thank them for their gift basket and to beg them to help her keep up with schoolwork and lessons, which they gamely accept. She also checks her other messages and sees a few from the girls.

She finally messages them, feeling guilty upon seeing how worried they were.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun starts to make plans of his own, wanting to make sure that the coming week would be perfect.

•°•

Monday

Wanting to start her first day of missing classes on the right foot, B had managed to convince at least one of her classmates in each class to secretly have her on call during the periods, so that she could listen in on the lectures on her phone, as if she were taking an online class. She had called Taehyun for first period Economics, Kai for second period History, Yuna for third period Biology, Beomgyu for after-lunch Maths, Taehyun again for Foreign Language class, and Soobin for Creative writing class.

“Why not me?” Yeonjun had asked her with a pout when she told him her plan.

B laughed at how adorable he was. “Because Soobin is one of my closest friends, plus he’s my partner in the class, so it would make more sense if I called him. Besides, it might seem too suspicious if I called you instead of him.” she reasoned.

The whole day, B had her phone by her side as she struggled to listen to the lectures and took down her own notes as well, making sure to catch any dates for assignment deadlines or quizzes. By the time last period was over, B had gotten showered and dressed, first for a quick visit from her family doctor to check on her condition and then for some time to hang out with Ryujin, who had promised to visit since she was immune to chicken pox.

Sure enough, the doctor came by and did a quick check up of her vital signs and assessed her rashes, simply advising her not to scratch them. He was there for a maximum of 20 minutes before leaving.

At a little past 5:30 PM, Ryujin came ringing on her front door holding a box of cinnamon rolls from Kang’s Kafe.

B excitedly hugs her as soon as she opens the door to let her friend in, squealing and thanking her for the cinnamon rolls.

As they step into the apartment, Ryujin observes “Wow B, you look so happy, you’re practically glowing, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the rashes.”

B blushes and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s probably just cause I’ve been getting a lot of sleep lately, but thanks.”

“A lot of sleep? More like a lot of Yeonjun.” Ryujin says, smiling devilishly. “Come on, tell me more about it! How are you feeling? What is it like to date him? Have you guys done anything yet?”

“Well if you must know, I feel really happy. So happy in fact that it keeps me too distracted to even think about how itchy these rashes are.” B says, rubbing her arms which had small specks of rashes. “And technically, we haven’t even gone on a date yet, but we’ve been talking a lot and he’s called me on Facetime the past 2 nights and he’s just really sweet. And no, we haven’t ‘done anything’ yet, we’ve just kissed a couple of times.”

Ryujin lets out a squeal. “Ah, it sounds so exciting! I’m so happy for you! Honestly, seeing how hard you were trying to avoid him for the past 2 weeks was hard. I wanted to shake you or something just to knock some sense into you. It was actually kinda funny seeing how stubborn you were about it, I mean he obviously liked you but anyone who knew your current situation could see that you definitely had feelings for him as well!” she laughs. “Speaking of, what have the other guys said about you 2 dating? I bet Gyu’s been teasing you 2 nonstop.” she asks, referring to the guys in the student council.

B laughs nervously. “Oh, uh, we haven’t really told anyone yet.” she admits. “I haven’t even told Ningni—I mean Hyuka, about Yeonjun asking me out at the party, so none of them have any clue about Yeonjun asking me out and me avoiding Yeonjun and everything. I’ve only told you and Yuna.”

Ryujin smacks B’s arm. “B! Why? You should’ve at least told Kai about it! Isn’t he your best friend?”

“He is, yes! It’s just hard, I mean I’ve told him about my past crushes and stuff back when we were younger, but it’s just that Yeonjun is his one of his closest friends, so it just feels kind of weird. Like it might make their friendship awkward, especially if things between me and Yeonjun don’t work out.” B says defensively.

“Please, those guys are thick as thieves, nothing could ever break their friendship apart. And stop saying that you and Yeonjun won’t work out, you’re worrying too much about something that hasn’t even happened yet or something that might not even ever happen. Instead of thinking the worst about the future, you should just try to make the most out of the present instead.” Ryujin says.

“Wow, that’s actually really good advice, Ryu.” B admits. “Fine, I promise I’ll try not to worry too much and stuff. But Yeonjun and I agreed that we’d wait until I’ve recovered enough to go back to school until we tell the guys anything about us dating.”

“Oh sweetie, he’s a guy. Heck, he’s not just a guy, he’s Choi Yeonjun. Guys like to talk about girls. And just like you’ve been talking to Yuna and I about Yeonjun, I’m pretty sure Yeonjun has been talking to at least 1 other guy about you too. The question is, which guy could he be talking to?” Ryujin wonders.

•°•

Tuesday

“So that’s what I’ve got planned out for the next few days. Well, while she’s still confined to her apartment, at least. I’ve got a whole week of stay-at-home dates and romantic stuff planned. I just want to make it as good as possible, even if she can’t leave her house.” Yeonjun says, finishing up explaining his plans in great detail. “It’s what she deserves, especially after hearing how much she struggled the past 2 weeks. I just want to make sure she won’t regret her decision to finally say yes.”

“Yeonjun, that sounds amazing.” Beomgyu says, looking at the blue-haired boy in awe. “I always knew you had your ways to woo a girl, but damn I’ve never seen you plan out something like this before. I especially like the part where you sort of kidnap her.” Beomgyu laughs. “Congrats on finally getting the ‘yes’ by the way. It was kinda killing me to see how hard the past 2 weeks have been on you too.”

“It’s what she deserves. It’s crazy cause I don’t think I’ve ever liked a girl this much before, especially since I’ve only known her for a few weeks.” Yeonjun gives him a bright smile, and Beomgyu could tell just how smitten he was. “And thanks, Gyu. Thanks for being there for me these past couple of weeks, too. And thanks for keeping it between us.” he adds, remembering how Beomgyu had noticed how different Yeonjun had been acting, and how Yeonjun himself had finally told Beomgyu about everything.

From how Yeonjun had been watching B at the party to how Yeonjun had found himself smitten by B during their 7 minutes together to how Yeonjun had asked her out twice and even to how he had winked at her onstage. He didn’t mean to tell anyone about his feelings for their new friend so soon, but he couldn’t bear the weight of it any longer. Now he was happy to be telling Beomgyu about how he had taken care of B when she was sick and how they had finally been able to talk things out.

“Dude, you’ve got it bad.” Beomgyu says, laughing and clapping him on the back. “I have to admit, it’s a bit weird seeing you talk about a girl so much, but I can’t help but feel proud that you’ve finally found someone you genuinely seem to care for.”

Yeonjun nods. “Yes, I really do. And thanks Gyu, really. She just feels really different, I guess. And I’m hoping that the more I get to know her, the more I end up liking her, instead of the other way around. Usually with me, girls can make a strong first impression at the start but then when I try to get to know them more, they end up feeling just like everyone else. I don’t think it’ll be like that with her, though.”

“With all the things you’ve got planned for her, I highly doubt that’ll be the case.” Beomgyu says. “I’m sure she’ll love it. Go get her, Yeonjun!”

And he did.

That afternoon, he stood outside her apartment door feeling just a tiny bit nervous, his hands full, whispering and instructing the people behind him for the last time before he rang the doorbell.

“Coming!” Yeonjun could hear her yell from inside the apartment, and he smiled to himself.

He braces himself as she opens the door, and as soon as he sees her face, his heartbeat instantly speeds up.

“Hi, Baby.” he simply says as he stands in front of her with a bouquet of blue roses, the string quartet that he had hired for the afternoon starts to play a soft rendition of Euphoria by BTS.

She stands there for a moment, a hand covering her mouth as she stares in awe at the blue-haired boy before her and the blue roses he held, to the four string players holding their instruments and serenading her, until the chorus comes up and Yeonjun softly sings, “Take my hands now” as he takes one of her hands in his and squeezes it gently. “You are the cause of my euphoria.”

She unfreezes then, taking a step towards him and wrapping her arms around him to give him a hug, which was a bit of a challenge considering the dozen roses between them.

He laughs as she gives up on trying to hug him and settles on standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck instead. “You’re supposed to take the flowers first, silly.” he says.

“Yeonjun! This is just…wow.” she says, taking the flowers in her arms, they were heavier than they looked. “This is incredible. You’re incredible. This it too much, this is… just, thank you so much.” she says, flustered.

“Oh, Baby. This is nothing, don’t sweat it.” he says, savoring her reaction. If she was gonna smile this wide and get this flustered every time he made a romantic gesture like this, then the rest of the week was going to be fun.

•°•

Wednesday

B had been wondering why Yeonjun had made such a strange request that morning, but she was happy to oblige. It’s not like she had anything better to do in her apartment, and she spent most of her time listening to lectures through phone calls in her bedroom anyway. She had called the same people as she had for the past 2 days, glad that she had found a way to keep herself up to date on lectures.

She had almost forgotten about Yeonjun’s request until her last class for the day ended, and she heard sounds coming from inside her apartment. She kept her bedroom door closed the whole day, so the sound of some unknown person in her apartment was alarming.

She quickly dials up Yeonjun’s number, trying to keep herself calm and telling herself that it was probably not a dangerous intruder but rather something related to Yeonjun’s request.

“Hey Baby, what’s up?” he says, answering on the second ring.

“Hey Yeonjun, uh, I’m in my bedroom right now and I thought I heard something from inside the apartment so I was wondering if it’s something to do with what you texted me this morning or if there really is an intruder and I should call the police.” she says, trying to sound causal and calm.

Yeonjun laughs on the other end, which causes B to relax a bit. “You are adorable. Very smart and safe that you checked with me first though, everytime you hear strange noises in your apartment, call me right away okay?” he says. “For now, don’t worry though, I promise you’re safe. It’s part of the plan, I asked some people to help me set up for our date today. Sorry for making you panic, I should’ve given you a heads up.”

B scoffs. “Psh, I was not panicking. I’m just being very smart and safe, like you said.” she says. “What kind of date requires you to ask for help to set up though? What exactly do you have planned for today?”

“Now why would I tell you that? You’ll find out in about an hour anyway, but for now, promise me you’ll stay in your room until I tell you it’s safe okay? If not, you’ll spoil the surprise.” he says.

B nods. “Yeah sure, I can do that.” she says, even though the curiosity was killing her. What kind of date did Yeonjun have planned now?

Just then, B hears a voice from Yeonjun’s end of the call. “Hey YJ, you want me to ride with you to Kang’s? Or should I ride with Soobin?” Beomgyu asks.

“Hop right into the car, I’ll just finish up this call.” Yeonjun responds. “Hey Baby, gonna grab a quick snack at Kang’s with the boys before I head to your place. I’ll make it quick, so try not to miss me too much.” he says.

“Don’t worry, it’s the rest of the guys that I really miss anyway.” she says teasingly. “It’s only been a few days, but I haven’t seen them in forever.”

“Oh? So since you’ve been seeing me almost everyday now, you don’t miss me? Yeonjun says, and B could practically hear him pouting from the phone.

She laughs. “Don’t be silly, you know I miss you too.”

Yeonjun laughs too. “I miss you too. See you in about an hour, alright? And wear something nice.” he simply says before hanging up.

“Was that her? Was that B?” Beomgyu asks as Yeonjun gets into the car, joining him in the back seat before the car starts to move, taking them to Kang’s café.

Yeonjun nods. “Yeah, she was worried cause she heard a noise in her apartment but I told her it’s just the dinner people.”

Beomgyu raises a brow. “The dinner people? Wait, which date is this? The one where you hire people to set up the apartment in like a super romantic—”

“Yes yes, it’s that one.” Yeonjun said, amused at how excited Beomgyu was, remembering that he told Beomgyu about all his date plans for the week. “I’m a little worried that it might be a bit too much? What do you think?”

Beomgyu laughs. “Honestly, what you’ve got planned for today is…small compared to what you’ve got planned for Thursday or Friday. Considering she’s not supposed to leave her apartment, it’ll be a challenge to pull off too.”

“Oh, I asked her doctor about it and he said that as long as she’s very careful about who she comes in contact with and limits exposure as much as possible, then technically I can take her out. Just a matter of how and where I do it.” Yeonjun says confidently. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, I can pull it off.”

Beomgyu gives him a smile and a pat on the back. “I’m sure you can, Yeonjun. Don’t worry about sticking around at Kang’s either, you can leave as soon as you want, I’ll back you up. Try not to keep her waiting, you know?” he says supportively.

“Thanks, Gyu. I’ll just order something for takeout and I’ll go.”

•°•

B takes a deep breath and straightens out her dress one last time before finally opening her bedroom door and taking a step into her living area.

And she was immediately rendered speechless.

The place looked almost unrecognizable. The furniture had been moved around to make space in the middle of the room for her small round dining table and 2 chairs. The lights were all off, the apartment illuminated solely by candlelight, with tea candles and blue rose petals scattered all over the apartment, carefully sprawled all across the floor and sprinkled on the furniture. The table was set up for 2, with delicious-looking dishes already in place and a bottle of white wine along with a flower arrangement and 2 candles in the center.

She could hear the string quartet from yesterday from within the apartment, and after letting her eyes adjust to the dim light and looking around she could see that they were hidden away in the kitchen, softly playing their rendition of Home by Michael Buble.

Then Yeonjun reveals himself, he was waiting right outside her bedroom door, and he holds out a hand to her. “Han Baby, I know it’s a bit early, but would you do me the honour of having dinner with me?” he says grandly.

B lets out a laugh, looking at him in awe. “It would be my pleasure, Choi Yeonjun.” she says, taking his hand.

He smiles back at her and leads her to the dining table, pulling out her chair and letting her sit before joining her.

“I’m not sure what food you’d like, but I got garlic butter baked salmon, chicken kievs, Caesar salad, a bottle of Moscato and a serving of chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.” Yeonjun says, presenting the table on the food.

“Wow, they all look so good.” B says, feeling her mouth start to water. “How did you do all this? How did you put this all together?”

“Well, I had a bit of help, of course.” Yeonjun says, pouring the wine. “I asked my driver Hwall and some help from home to bring over the food, move the furniture and set up the candles and flowers. And the string quartet, whom you’ve met yesterday, are a few friends from my old school.” he says, giving a quick salute to the four string players in the kitchen, who warmly smiled back at him. “I hope you didn’t mind having strangers in your apartment, I’m sorry if you got scared. I should have been more considerate.”

B accepts the glass of champagne but shakes her head. “Yeonjun, it’s fine. I trust that you’re being careful and that you wouldn’t compromise my safety. This is all very lovely, thank you.” she says, reaching over the table to take his hand and gently squeezing it.

He smiles warmly at her. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m glad you like it.” he says, once again savouring the moment. The warmth in her eyes as she looked at him, her initial shock upon seeing the dinner set up, how good it felt to have her hand in his, and just everything about her in general.

Since he couldn’t be out too late on a school night without raising suspicion from his father, he wanted to make the most out of every minute. From sharing the most compelling yet laughably random conversations over dinner, to the sickeningly sweet banter over dessert, to the intimacy of slow dancing in her living room.

He made sure to bid his friends from the string quartet goodbye and help B with putting her furniture back in place before calling up Hwall and letting him know it was time for him to go.

As she walks him out of her apartment, lingering by the doorway for just a moment to say goodbye.

“You know, you never cease to amaze me, Choi Yeonjun. I’m starting to think there’s nothing you can’t do.” she says, as he stands outside her door. “Except fly, of course.”

Yeonjun smiles at her quizzically. “What makes you think I can’t fly?” he asks playfully, pulling her closer.

“Because you’re only human?” she says, laughing. “Besides, I don’t want a boy who can fly. I just want you.” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Aw, Baby, you’re so sweet.” Yeonjun says, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now, let’s say I could fly, would you still want me then?”

“And you’re so silly! Of course I would.” she laughs, stroking his hair. “But for now, I think you have to go.” she says, seeing his driver standing by from the corner of her eye.

“I’m afraid I do.” he says, giving a quick nod to Hwall before completely wrapping his arms around B’s waist and holding her tight, which causes her to squeal.

“See you tomorrow?” he says, finally letting go.

She nods. “See you tomorrow.” she says, waving him off and watching him walk away.

Right before he gets into his car, he takes one last look up at B’s apartment, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still standing outside, a hand on her chest as she smiled to herself, spinning in place a couple times before walking back into her apartment and closing the floor behind her.

He couldn’t wait to see how she’d react for what dates he had planned next.

•°•

Thursday

With Yeonjun’s simple request, once again, B didn’t really know what to expect.

She certainly wasn’t expecting to be ambushed at her front door with a bouquet or blue roses and to be serenaded by a string quartet on Tuesday, and she definitely wasn’t expecting her apartment to feel like a romantic 5 star restaurant yesterday, but his request for today’s date caught her so off guard that she couldn’t help but to overthink.

Wear something comfy?

What did he mean by that? What kind of date would entail such a simple request? Would it be something as simple as staying in and watching movies together? Knowing Yeonjun, it probably wasn’t.

While still keeping track of lectures through cellphone calls, she spent more of the overthinking about what kind of date Yeonjun could have possibly planned for the day, and what kind of outfit she’d be wearing.

At the end of the day, she decides to message her girl friends for help once again.

And right as she finishes fixing herself up, she hears the doorbell ring. She calls out “Just a second!” and quickly swipes on some blush to finish the look before running up to the front door and opening it.

“Hey, Baby.” Yeonjun says, smiling at her. “You look nice. You definitely found the perfect balance between cute and comfy.” he says, checking out her outfit.

“Hey Yeonjun! Thanks.” she says, smiling back. Just as she opens the door wider, ready to welcome him into the apartment, he takes her completely by surprise and says “Come on, let’s go.”

She blinks once, twice, still surprised. “Let’s go? Go, uh, where?”

“You’ll see. C’mon, put on some shoes and grab your things. Hwall’s waiting for us downstairs.” he says casually.

“Go? Where? And how? I mean, I’m still highly contagious, my doctor said I couldn’t leave—” B starts, still a bit dumfounded.

“I’ve cleared this with your doctor. Yes, you’re still possibly highly contagious, but where we’re going, there won’t be anyone for you to infect.” he says.

Confused, B decides to put on a pair of sneakers and grab a small sling bag before locking her apartment door behind her.

“Ah, before I forget.” Yeonjun says, rummaging through his bag before pulling out a surgical face mask wrapped in plastic. “You’ll have to put this on for now. Safety reasons.” he explains, handing it to her.

She obliges, and once the face mask is secured, he grabs her hand and leads her to the car.

•°•

“So…where are we going?” B asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You’ll see.” Yeonjun responds for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Are you kidnapping me? Should I be worried?” B asks. “Hey, Hwall, is he kidnapping me? Should I be worried?”

Yeonjun’s driver Hwall looks at her through the rear-view mirror as he drives. “I assure you, with sir Yeonjun, you’re in good hands.” he simply says.

B lets out a huff. “You didn’t answer either of my questions, but fine, I trust you.” she says, looking out the window and noticing how unfamiliar everything looked. They were now going uphill and had a fairly decent view of the town. “Wow, I am just now realizing just how little I know about this place. I mean, I just moved here, and all I know is how to get to school and back.”

Yeonjun laughs. “I don’t blame you, but it’s practically the opposite for me since I’ve lived here since I was a kid.” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you around the whole town pretty soon.”

B gives him a curious look but doesn’t say anything. She continues to look out the window for the rest of the ride, noticing how high up they were going. Once they reach the top of the cliff, the car suddenly pulls over and stops, causing her to look around excitedly.

“Is this it? Are we here? Where are we?” she says excitedly, trying to look around for any clue as to what Yeonjun had planned for their date. All she could see, however, was the edge of the cliff and how high above the town they were.

“Huh, I guess we got here a bit early.” Yeonjun says, looking out the window. “Molang isn’t here yet.”

“Molang? Who’s Molang?” B asks, raising a brow.

Just then, she notices a low whirring noise, not knowing what it was or where it was coming from. She notices the sound getting louder and louder, until a helicopter comes into view.

As she spots the helicopter flying in and slowly approaching them, her jaw drops. “No way.”

Yeonjun laughs as he stares at her, amused by her reaction. “Yes way. Baby, this is Molang. My beautiful Airbus ACH175 helicopter.” he says, waving at the pilot through the window, who raised a hand back to acknowledge him. “And that’s Sunwoo, our pilot for today.”

“Yeonjun, I—” B starts, but she doesn’t really know what to say. “I—”

He laughs again. “Are you ready to fly?”

B simply nods, staring at the helicopter that was now landing in very close to proximity to where the car was parked. Once Yeonjun opens the door for her and she steps out, that’s when she notices that they were parked next to a helicopter pad situated right by the edge of the cliff.

“Okay, so, helicopter? How?” she manages to say, still struggling to put together coherent words. She could feel the end of her cropped sweater flapping around her torso as they came closer to the helicopter

“Let’s just say that there are a lot of perks that comes with being the sole heir to my father’s business.” he answers, almost yelling to be heard above the noise, taking her hand as they approach the helicopter.

They take the proper precautions and double check everything to make sure that they were securely strapped in, with Sunwoo the pilot briefing them on basic safety protocols and informing them of how they can communicate via the headsets provided.

Yeonjun buckles B into the backseat himself, making sure that she was strapped in tight and taking off her face mask, telling her “Don’t worry, I asked and made sure that Sunwoo is already immune to chickenpox beforehand, so you being contagious won’t be a problem.” before stealing a quick kiss and securing her headset. Next, Sunwoo helps him buckle up next to B, making all the necessary safety checks before they take off.

“Are you afraid of heights, Baby?” Yeonjun’s voice suddenly rings into B’s headset.

“No.” she replies, looking at him and squeezing his hand tight as she feels the vehicle lift off into the air. She wasn’t exactly scared, but she wasn’t expecting to leave the ground when she woke up that morning.

The view was simply breathtaking. She had flown in airplanes before, and as much as she enjoyed being at airports and taking the window seat, but nothing could compare to seeing the small town from a thousand feet in the air.

Below them, the world looked green and blue, the town highlighted by the abundantly green trees and the river that surrounded it.

Throughout the ride, Yeonjun had begun to point out the most random things to B. From the park where he won his first soccer match in when he was in the 5th grade, to the building that his father owned which he absolutely hated. He told her endless stories of the places he’d run away to when he felt like escaping, and stories of the places he’s learned to love the most after years of living in one place.

As the sun started to set, the city lights started to light up slowly, then all at once.

“Wow, this is amazing. It feels like magic.” B says, staring in awe at the town below them, now illuminated in hundreds of shining lights.

“Magic hour, when the sun sets and all the lights start to turn on.” Yeonjun agrees.

B could feel her neck start to ache from keeping it outstretched the whole time as she tried her best to look out the window, drinking in as much of the view as she could.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun had his eyes on her the whole time.

•°•

Friday

Just then, B hears her doorbell ringing.

She yells out “Coming! Just a minute!” before getting up and making sure she was appropriately dressed before making her way to the front door.

As bummed out as she was about their her supposed last stay-at-home date with Yeonjun being cancelled, she also couldn’t help but feel curious about what could have possible come up that Yeonjun had to cancel it.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she forgot to check through the peephole before opening her apartment door, and as soon as she saw the person standing on the other side, she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Baba!” Kai exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Surprise!” he says, before engulfing her in a hug.

She unfreezes then, her mind in scrambles, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Ningning! What are you doing here? And why are you hugging me, step away from me, you might get chickenpox!” she exclaims, trying to pull away from his embrace.

“Actually, I’m here because I have chicken pox.” he admits, subtly rubbing his arms, which B suspected were covered in itchy red rashes. “A few people from school have started to show symptoms, actually, myself included.”

“Oh my god, you have chicken pox? Are you okay? Did any of the other guys get it?” she asks, concerned.

Kai shakes his head. “I’m fine, just a little itchy. And no, as far as I can tell, it’s just me so far. The school’s in chaos now, everyone’s starting to show up to school wearing face masks and spraying alcohol every 5 mintues. Everyone’s afraid of the chicken pox.” he says, shivering.

“That sounds disastrous.” she comments. “So what brings you here exactly?”

Kai grins. “Well, since I have chicken pox now, and you’ve had chicken pox now, and no one else in my family has had chicken pox so I’d be a major health threat to them, I was wondering if I could maybe…stay with you?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh, like we could quarantine together?” B asks. “I was actually medically cleared by my doctor already so I can come back to school on Monday but I’d love to have you here! Why not?” she says, squealing excitedly as she hugs her bestfriend.

Kai laughs happily. “Oh thank god, Lea practically kicked me out of the house and sprayed me with alcohol the whole time when I got sent home from school. I was able to grab a few of my things before I was banished from my own home.” he says, relieved.

“Oh, you poor thing.” she says, ruffling his hair. “Come on in, I’ll make sure the guest bedroom is clean and ready for you.” she says, welcoming him into her apartment.

“Thanks, Baba! Oh, I’m so excited, I’ve missed you so much! I haven’t seen you in a whole week.” Kai says, whining. “I can’t wait to catch up with you. Honestly, MOA has felt so boring without you so there’s not much I have to say. But I can’t wait to hear all about how you spent your week!”

B laughs hesitantly. “Oh, psh, there’s not much to tell you either.” she says weakly.

“Don’t say that, I’m sure spending a week at home felt like a mini vacation! So tell me, what did you do the whole week?” Kai starts, as they enter the guest room.

I’ve been going on dates with our dear friend Yeonjun B thought to herself, though she knew she couldn’t bring herself to just tell her bestfriend about it.

So what could she tell him about her week?

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montagnarde1793 · 5 years ago

Text

Ribbons of Scarlet: A predictably terrible novel on the French Revolution (part 4)

Parts 1, 2, 3 and 5.

Inaccuracies: the minor, the inconsistent, the fuck no and the unintentionally hilarious

I have no intention of detailing every historical inaccuracy in this book. I’d say we’d be here all day, but we’ve already been here all day, so maybe all week?

The book is riddled with minor errors, oversimplifications and dubious interpretations — some of which could be chalked up in theory to writing from a limited POV, but this is not a book that allows for that kind of complexity. Opinions may be those of the characters, but explanations for events and who belongs to what group and so on tend to be those of the authors regardless of which character is speaking.

Given the level of detail of this book, I would count things like Condorcet’s being made a member of the Constituent Assembly or the Revolutionary Tribunal being founded by September 1792 minor errors. They might even have been deliberate (combining the Constituent and the Legislative Assemblies or the Tribunal of 27 August and the Revolutionary Tribunal, for “simplicity”’s sake).

“Les Enragés” is also an official group and that’s their official self-designation in the world of this novel. Um. Ok.

Also things like the complete lack of self-awareness revealed by the assumption that because 21st century Americans consider omelettes a breakfast food this must be a universal constant.

Anyway, I find that kind of thing irritating but pretty inevitable. Errare humanum est and all that.

Other minor errors are forgivable in and of themselves, I suppose, but indicative of a larger lack of understanding, similar to some of the implausible scenarios the authors set up (cf. Manon Roland’s random trip to Caen).

There’s a moment, for example, when one of the figures on trial for “conspiracy” in the red shirt affair appeals to the crowd by saying “I am suspected merely because I am an émigré.” (p. 490) which is hilarious when you realize the fact of being an émigré and returning to France after the cut-off date was already punishable by execution — a law pushed among others by our friends the reasonable, moderate “Girondins.” And I say this not to condemn them (on this point, at least) — there were actual, serious arguments in support of such a law — but to highlight a trend. The authors have decided that certain figures are reasonable, so they give them what they consider to be reasonable opinions, whether or not those opinions line up with those they actually held and, as we’ll see, they’ve decided others are dangerous extremists, so likewise they only get to do things the authors consider extreme, or at best hypocritical.

Usually there’s at least some consistency to the errors — too much in fact, as noted. But the fanciful claim that the guillotine was painted red and that everyone who was executed was dressed in red to hide the blood is repeated more than once, before being replaced with the accurate assertion that dressing the condemned in red was reserved for assassins (also arsonists and poisoners, in accordance with the penal code of 1791).

More serious are the “errors” that serve a certain narrative, like the repeated assertion that Louis XVI abolished torture and notably execution by breaking on the wheel. Er… no he didn’t. I’m going to charitably assume that the authors just confused torture for the purposes of obtaining a confession with torture as a punishment. Louis XVI abolished the former, not the latter. That may seem like a nitpick, but they make a very big fuss about it.

People were still being broken on the wheel until the implementation of the Constituent Assembly’s penal code which provided that all executions should be equal and as quick and painless as possible — ultimately leading to the adoption of the guillotine. The first execution by guillotine is apparently such a crucial event that we have to implausibly have Louis XVI’s sister sneak out and witness it, but we’ll just ignore the fact that the “hero” La Fayette’s cousin bloodily repressed the mutiny of Swiss soldiers in Nancy resulting in a number of hangings and one man being broken on the wheel — repression that La Fayette applauded — in 1790, because 1790 is a year in which nothing happened.

Besides, as is well known, La Fayette never did anything wrong (Sophie de Grouchy forgives him for firing on her when she was petitioning for a republic in 1791 (p. 509-510) so you should too, I guess. Though while we’re here, her signing the Champ de Mars petition is a pretty unlikely scenario, actually, given that only the Cordeliers petition remained after the Assembly’s 15 July decree and that even before that Condorcet didn’t dare to sign his articles in favor of a much less democratic republic than the Cordeliers were advocating for Le Républicain (which prudently stopped publication after 15 July).)

The abolition of torture thing is merely one of a number of errors or exaggeratedly charitable interpretations of Louis XVI’s actions to fit the myth of the fundamentally well-meaning, soft-hearted reformer who was just in over his head. Mme Élisabeth’s violence, while I commend it for its accuracy, serves to highlight her brother’s pacifism. We’re meant to believe that of course it was nothing but revolutionary slander/conspiracy theories to think he was actually intending to use foreign troops to restore himself to absolute power, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Mme Élisabeth asserts that she would like that to happen but her brother would never and Manon Roland confirms it from her point of view too.

On a similar note, Condorcet gets his usual “consensual figure” treatment. We’re unsurprisingly fed the myth of Condorcet as the paragon of democracy and feminism, with nary a touch of ambiguity. Even Pauline Léon can only reproach him with being ineffectual. That’s par for the course, as is framing the people’s fears of grain speculation as a conspiracy theory at least from Sophie de Grouchy’s point of view, though nothing in the text contradicts her at any point (p. 61), but framing Condorcet’s pre-revolutionary math lectures at the Lycée as him and his wife opening a school for popular education and Sophie de Grouchy personally teaching Reine Audu to read at her husband’s invitation… That’s pretty disingenuous.

On the other hand, nothing is too awful to be believed without question of the “radical” revolutionaries, whether it comes from dubious sources (as regards the myths about Lamballe being stripped naked and/or raped before or — depending on the “source” — after being massacred, or about Charlotte Corday’s head being slapped by the executioner and her body examined for evidence of virginity, or Robespierre’s lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe and personally participating in Catherine Théot’s rituals) or is just made up. Surely the September Massacres were bad enough without imagining that random bystanders — including children — were being raped and massacred in the streets? Since calling for the execution of adult royals based on their actual actions doesn’t sound sinister enough, let’s have Pauline Léon demand the massacre of Louis XVI’s underage children too!

On that note, I have to wonder whether part of the problem is that we’re so used to hearing about atrocities on a scale that dwarfs anything that happened in the 1790s that what the sources suggest — which could still be pretty ugly, don’t get me wrong — doesn’t live up to the hype. The French Revolution is built up in reactionary propaganda like it’s one of the periods of the worst violence in history. I suspect that it’s like with a scary movie: your imagination will conjure up something far scarier than what they could show you on screen. So, expecting to find horrors, you readily believe whichever sources (or “sources”) have the most of them and fill in the blanks when the sources don’t match up to your image of what terror, chaos and violence look like.

It’s basically just deductive reasoning: they say there was horrific violence, so I’m going to depict what must have happened according to my mental image of horrific violence. It’s no different really from deciding a character is reasonable and therefore giving them the opinions you find reasonable. But not only is this poor methodology (which perhaps you don’t care about, as a novelist), it sucks out everything that’s nuanced or complicated or surprising about history for the sake of flattering your own prejudices. And that’s a shame.

Anyway, as for the red shirt affair, it’s generally believed by historians to be a cynical maneuver on the part of the Committee of General Security* to make Robespierre look like a tyrant by executing a large group of supposed co-conspirators with would-be assassins Ladmirat/Ladmiral and Cécile Renault but needless to say — and following G. Lenotre’s lead — that’s not at all how it’s portrayed here. Robespierre is of course personally involved for his own (necessarily hypocritical) reasons. He wants Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe but in this telling she and her family have reason to believe he’s cozying up to royalists like them for personal political gain too. Oh, also, Saint-Just and Fouquier-Tinville are lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe too, because why the fuck not?

*To use the misleading standard translation (sûreté ≠ sécurité)

Particularly ludicrous is the insinuation that not only did the Convention abolish slavery entirely as an expedient — which, to be fair, some historians argue, though there’s ample evidence that proves there was more to it than that — but that they had to because otherwise the British and Spanish would come to the slaves’ aid first. As if the plantation owners were not doing their level best to deliver their colonies over to the British precisely to preserve slavery. That bit was just insulting.

But you know, why let a little thing like reality interfere with dividing the world into reasonable people and hypocritical demagogues and the mobs that they incite, am I right?

And it’s often the absence of certain realities that poses the greatest problem. Like, counterrevolutionaries aren’t a real threat, that’s all a figment of the revolutionaries’ imagination... but as usual this idea coexists uncomfortably with the existence of actual counterrevolutionaries in the narrative.

The war, which dominated everyone’s reality from 1792 onward, is barely mentioned. Manon Roland is made to treat the idea that the Prussians were well positioned to march on Paris after the surrender of Verdun as an absurd rumor (p. 268-269) and we’re meant to agree. (This was very much not an imaginary threat, if you didn’t know.)

Also! Get ready because I’m going to cite Serna favorably for once:

Il est frappant de noter combien l’historiographie s’est de suite intéressée aux massacres de Paris et aux prisonniers d’Orléans, sans vraiment porter son intérêt sur les morts civils sur le front et la mise à sac des villes et villages à la frontière, deux poids deux mesures qui ne peuvent qu’interroger.

– Pierre Serna, « « La France est république » : Comment est né le Nouveau Régime dans le Patriote français de Brissot » dans Michel Biard, Philippe Bourdin, Hervé Leuwers et Pierre Serna, dir., 1792. Entrer en République, Paris, A. Colin, 2013, NP, note 37.

(Translation: “It’s striking to note how the historiography took an immediate interest in the massacres in Paris and the prisoners of Orléans, without really getting interested in the civilian deaths at the front and the sacking of cities and towns along the border, a double standard that we can’t help but question.”)

I mean, we know why: military violence, up to and including every kind of war crime, is normal and expected as long as it’s a proper war conducted between two foreign powers (though the various foyers of civil war also don’t really come up in this book). But yeah, that is a pretty big fucking hypocritical double standard, isn’t it? And one that this particular novel reflects rather than invents (as is also true of many of its other flaws, to be entirely fair).

It’s also particularly ironic, for a book that touts itself as feminist, that the real gains made by women regarding inheritance, marriage redefined as a contract between equal partners dissolvable by divorce, the rights of single mothers and illegitimate children and so on — even if the periods of Reaction that followed reversed them — are nowhere to be seen. Nor do we see women voting on the constitution of 1793 or fighting in the army or any of a number of things real women did. I concede that no one novel can be expected to show everything, but given the things they bent over backward to include, would it have been so difficult to include things that are thematically relevant?

This wouldn’t even piss me off so much except for the way Pauline Léon’s storyline ends. Her arc consists of her being convinced of the folly of those of her beliefs that the author doesn’t approve of so that she can be used as a mouthpiece for the moral the author wants us to take from all this and then being forced into marriage because she gets pregnant. And I cite (p. 433):

They would silence us all.

One woman at a time.

First the Angel of Assassination. Then Widow Capet, who had once been queen. Olympe de Gouges five days ago. Now proud Manon Roland.

A professed Girondin, Manon was still against tyranny and had been an advocate for the republic since the dawn of the Terror. Once, I wouldn’t have been able to admit that, but I could admit it now. Now that it’s too late.

And, when she tells Théophile Leclerc he got her pregnant, he replies (p. 435):

“‘We must marry. You’ve no other choice,’” he continued when I didn’t respond. […]

We had wanted liberty in France. But what freedom was there now? I had none. Théo would possess me utterly. I knew it, because the look her gave me had me wanting to crumble to the ground. All the choices I’d fought years for had been stripped away.

And now, I was nothing.

If there’s one point in history before the last 50 years or so that that’s not true it’s in 1793, when this scene is set. Will she be more comfortably off if she marries? Yes, and that would unfortunately be true pregnant or not. But there’s nothing forcing her to marry him if she doesn’t want to and even if she does he doesn’t own or control her under revolutionary marriage law. Were things perfect for women in 1793? Of course not, but given that they were a lot worse both before and especially after, I’m more than a little sick of 1793 being portrayed as the most misogynist of all the misogynist eras.

Ironically though, they omit Amar’s report and the closing of women’s political societies* which is a far more relevant and accurate point if you’re trying to make the case for revolutionary misogyny. Not to mention, it’s kind of baffling to leave it out of Pauline Léon’s storyline as it was targeted against the society she led in particular. (Her section ends instead with Manon Roland’s execution.) But I guess that would require introducing Amar and we can’t have people believing that Robespierre, Danton and Marat weren’t the only Montagnards; they might get confused otherwise. Maybe at this point I should just be glad they didn’t give Robespierre Amar’s speech in the name of consolidation of characters?

*NB, mixed societies were never closed (until the Thermidorian Reaction shut down all political clubs), so the result is a bit more ambiguous than is often claimed.

Anyway. We’ll finally conclude this mess in the next part…

#en anglais #French Revolution #Révolution française

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