#I’m so sad I had to crop it I’m so serious the bottom half looked so good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuzukult · 4 years ago

Text

effortlessly pt. 2 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (not in this chapter) words: ~3.0k notes: this fic might be longer or shorter than planned, i have no idea what i’m planning for this so...... yeah, figured i should drop something before i drown myself bc i have finals for my online summer semester ;u;

o young love, how i wish i could go back in time // also it’s not edited yet, i usually proofread about 5x because i have the worse eyesight and i read too fast :D series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

The chlorine from the school’s pool overwhelms your senses, triggering you to sneeze a couple times into the crook of your arm. “Bless you!”

Lifting your head to meet your gaze with the owner of the words, you see Jungkook standing before you, swimming cap in one hand and a towel in the other, tousling his hair dry. He doesn’t have a shirt on, just his bathing trunks that hang loosely on his hips, and you swear that if he wasn’t preoccupied, he would’ve seen the drool coming from the corner of your mouth.

“Uh, thanks.”

“You came.” He grins, plopping his wet body onto the bench beside you as you grimace at the water from his trunks splattering at you. “I kind of thought I scared you away earlier.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You say, feigning ignorance. “You told me the other day you wanted me to come by after practice and here I am.”

“You know what I’m talking about. That ‘crush’ conversation.”

You roll your eyes at him, pushing him away playfully. “I thought I told you it was Yura with the crush.” Jungkook shakes his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue in unison. “I’ve known you your entire life. You’re telling me that I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“No, but—” He’s leaning close, his soaked fringe dripping onto your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms. “What?”

“Just trying to get a better read on you.” The proximity between you and Jungkook is small, so small that you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath the entire time until he backs away and you let out a deep exhale. “W-What for?” You manage to respond.

“What do you think about us... doing it again?”

He’s not looking at you this time, hands running through his drenched locks, eyes never leaving the concrete ground. The question startles you. For one, Jungkook was being shy. He never seemed to hide things from you before but that assumption was proven wrong when you saw the girl he brought him the other day. Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to call you up when he just took the biggest shit or even when he picked the longest booger. Why was he suddenly acting bashful?

“... again?” You reiterate, hands clutching onto the bench. “You want to do what again?”

“Uh... sleep together.”

“Jeon, we always sleep together. I don’t understand why you’re being weird—“

“No,” he sighs frustratedly at himself, knowing his question was unclear while slouching over in his seat. “When I say sleep together, I meant have sex again. I feel like I fucked up our first time together and I want to make up for it.”

Oh. Was that all? After the incident, you’d been as emotionally intelligent as you could, pushing to the back of your mind the fact that you’re so in love with Jeon Jungkook and you’ve both had his first kiss and virginity— for him, likewise. How yes, these things were far from perfect but to you, it was perfect because it was with him. That’s all that mattered.

“You don’t need to make up for anything. It was good! You took care of me and made sure I was okay. Apparently, it hurts like hell but you made it bearable.”

“I... really want to try again. What if we try teaching each other so that when the time comes and we meet someone, we’re ready?”

By the time we meet someone. The words burned in your heart, hissing as the pain clenched your chest. You knew that you didn’t want to meet ‘someone,’ you just wanted Jungkook. Just then, the girl comes to mind.

“Is it about that girl?” Jungkook’s head shoots in your direction, brows crinkled in confusion. “What girl?”

You’re chewing your bottom lip anxiously, waving your hanging legs above the ground. “I saw you bring a girl home the other day. Is it about her?”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change for a moment before an ‘ah’ escapes his mouth with the memory. “You mean Dahyun? I’m tutoring her in my free time. I needed some money. What? Are you jealous?” His lips tug in a mischievous smile; he’s genuinely enjoying the way your face contorts into realization, his heart warm at the idea of you wary of someone else capturing his attention.

“No.” You quickly mutter under your breath, a bit annoyed with yourself for letting your emotions get to you so quickly. This was Jungkook you were talking about here— the one guy who could pretty much land a date with any girl at your school, yet he’s over here playing games with you instead. It’s no surprise that he’s teasing you again but you’re wishing he was serious.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl in my life?”

You shove him off the bench, rolling your eyes. “Why did you want me here again?” He’s on the floor, a hearty laugh roaring from his chest. He’s effortlessly handsome like this and it’s no wonder that you’ve fallen for him.

“I think you should reconsider my question and let me know when you’re ready. But besides that,” Jungkook is getting off of the solid ground, rubbing his bottom in the process. “I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

“Why do I feel like those one of girls who are hopelessly in love with him?” You grumble into your arms, rubbing your hands into your face dishearteningly. “I feel so stupid, falling for his charms and everything. You know what he said to me again today?”

Yura’s in the process of shoving the cheesy goodness of tteokbokki into her mouth, sauce spilling out on the sides of her lips. She always had the biggest appetite and ate messily but it never stopped the queue of men standing outside her locker trying to shove in love letters on Valentine’s Day. Yura was a pure beauty— you always found yourself curious how the two of you became friends because you thought you weren’t as special, just average. But nonetheless, Yura had never failed to be there for you, through thick and thin, and your love for her in this friendship was almost the equivalent to what you felt for Jungkook. Except you were in love with Jungkook.

“Wha de he say?” She doesn’t even wait to finish swallowing her food, she just speaks through it, spitting some of the hot sauce onto your side of the table as you scowl in disgust.

“Jesus, Yura, chew and swallow first.”

“Sorry,” She smiles cheekily after emptying her mouth. “What did he say?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the only girl for me? I want you to come to my swim meet this Friday. You’re my good luck charm and I can’t win without you.”

Both of Yura’s brows raise up. “Oh wow, he’s definitely smitten with you. So, when are you gonna tell him that you’re ‘hopelessly in love’ with him?”

You sigh. “I can’t. I’ll ruin our friendship.”

“You’re doing this ass backwards,” She says, shaking her head as she picks out a fish cake from the bowl. “You guys fucked and yet you think that confessing your feelings will ruin your friendship?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you exhale another deep breath of sadness. “I’m just happy with where we are. I like being the special one in his life. What if I tell him and he doesn’t reciprocate feelings?”

“Worry about it then.” She responds casually, stuffing another spoonful into her mouth. “I don’t understand why people get so scared of telling someone how they feel. You never know your opportunity until you try it. Plus, it’s Jungkook. You really think he’s going to just drop you after all these years?”

Maybe Yura was right. Well— there was no way in hell you’d let her know that because her ego would swell up and get the best of her, but she made a valid point. Jungkook doesn’t know that you like him, right? So what if he did feel something for you?

“Think about it. Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

Silent, you’re almost skimming your mental memory of any recollection of Jungkook having a relationship. “Honestly, no.”

“And he tells you everything.”

“Correct.” You answer again.

“Don’t you feel like he’s waiting for something? Or someone in particular? You even mentioned it before, he happens to have the entire women population of this school crawling at his feet and all he does is act dumb.”

A floral square neck short sleeve crop top and blue jeans were what you decided to leave the house with for Jungkook’s swim competition but you don’t feel like yourself underneath this fabric. In actuality, you would never find yourself walking out the house in something so... fitted, opting for something more comfortable and breathable, but you knew today wasn’t a day for that. You’d gather enough courage to finally tell Jungkook that you didn’t want to be just friends anymore, you were ready to take it to the next level.

Sitting down on the bleachers of the humid arena, the stench of chlorine attacks your sense of smell again. You could never understand what it felt like to be Jungkook— he lived for the aroma of the water entering in his nostrils, the feeling of water touching his skin for hours, having so much control whenever he was in the pool. Whenever he was stressed, angry or sad, the first place you’d look for him would be here. Mediations were for some people, but swimming was for Jungkook.

He’s walking toward you, a beautiful grin spreading from ear to ear, wearing what seems to be insufferable competitive swim trunks that hug the lower half his body so tightly it could be a second layer of skin. He hasn’t worn his cap yet, but he’s holding it in his hand with his goggles, arms opened wide for you to come into his embrace.

“I’m seriously so happy you’re here. And look at you! All dressed up. Is this for me?” You scoff yet you’re already in his arms, face snuggled into his bare chest. He smelled like the water but when it’s coming from him, the scent is intoxicating. “Why would you even expect me not to come? I’m always rooting for you and your dreams, you idiot.”

For a brief moment, you’re standing on the sidelines with his arms wrapped around your frame and his chin resting on your head. Being with Jungkook was different, he made you feel a way that none of the guys that came into your life have made you feel.

Summers ago, you met this handsome boy, Taehyung. He was a few years older than both you and Jungkook and a member of the same swim team as Jungkook. Taehyung was the love that you knew realistically would never like you back. He was close to graduation, prepping for the recruiters who would attend their swim competitions to see potential candidates for colleges. Girls were flaunting themselves on him just as much as Jungkook and just as similar to him, his aspirations were a priority. Those girls were put in the back burner. He’d make your heart swell in your chest, constantly bringing you snacks and checking in on you occasionally as you study on the sidelines by the pool, waiting for your best friend to finish practice. You recall telling Jungkook about your childish crush on the guy you barely knew and him responding with, “You just think he’s cute. I don’t think you really like him,” or “He’s just being nice! He’s nice to everyone. Don’t fall for his charms so quickly.”

All of your feelings for Taehyung disappeared the day he graduated, saying his goodbyes to both you and Jungkook while in his blue gown, newly dyed platinum locks disheveled underneath his cap. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair, eyes gleaming toward the younger male before saying, “Take care of yourself, will ya? And take care of the little one too. Don’t let her fall between the cracks.” With that, he left with a scholarship to swim for the college team abroad in the United States, and you haven’t heard from him since.

The whistle blows, signaling the swimmers to get in their positions, and Jungkook lets go of you and you’re suddenly feeling empty. But the look he gifts you is loving, the reflection of the sunlight hitting the pool touches his face before he’s putting on his swim cap and goggles.

Jungkook is standing on the platform, side by side with other competitors from local high schools. Although you’ve come to almost all his practices and attended every single swim meet, you couldn’t exactly grasp onto any of the rules or the jargon but Jungkook never held that against you. He just wanted you there as his personal cheerleader, standing in the bleachers, watching him perform the greatest act as each time he does this is better than the last.

The referee blows a short series of whistles, initiating the start of the race and Jungkook dives into the water in mere milliseconds amongst the rest of the swimmers. He’s fast—incredibly fast that you’re afraid to blink because you might miss something important.

Jungkook was placed in the freestyle 100m event; his coach evidently complimented him constantly for his ability to adapt to the time and switch the types of strokes he needed to use in order to beat anyone neck and neck with him.

Today was no exception. Jungkook hit his first lap in third place; a technique he learned was to never overexert your strengths in the beginning because in the last portion of the race was where you want to push yourself to the fullest. The amount of videos he made you sit through the entirety of throughout your life was countless. He would plop himself in front of the television or computer for hours, observing the olympic and professional swimmers tactics because his parents couldn’t afford a private teacher for him. It wasn’t until high school that he had a real coach, someone who could dedicate their time in training and shaping Jungkook into the athlete he wanted to be. Before that, he would come to school’s indoor pool almost daily to just swim laps and test out what he watched on the internet.

His second lap was closing to its end and like every other swim meet, your stomach was doing flips. There was so much faith in Jungkook, from you, his parents, his team, but you weren’t sure how he felt about himself. He never failed to impress everyone, swooning the hearts of both males and females during these events however never once has he expressed his anxiety before a competition. He just did it because he loved it. Swimming was Jungkook’s passion.

The male next to him is close, they’re strokes away from each other to the point you can’t even tell who’s in the lead. It ends so quickly that the referee blows into his whistle before you realize as Jungkook ascends from the water, snapping off his cap and goggles as he eyes the man in the white and black striped shirt before glancing over at his opponent.

The referee grabs Jungkook’s wrist with another scream of the whistle, and excitedly, Jungkook smacks the water. He won.

Towel hanging around his neck, his eyes sparkle at the sight of you approaching after his team congratulates him eagerly on his win. If you knew better, the sight of you was his own personal win.

“Congrats, Jeon.” You say, playfully pulling on his drenched locks. “I knew you’d win. You always win.”

“I always win because you’re here.” There he goes again, tugging on your heartstrings so carelessly. “Come join us for dinner after this.”

“Only if you dedicate some alone time with me for dessert.” You have no idea what being possess you because you’re abruptly so bold. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head questioningly. “Now you’re just tempting me to cancel dinner and go right to dessert. What do you want to talk about?”

“Just... stuff,” You say, pursing your lips. Before Jungkook can even say anything, another teammate comes up to him, slapping him on his buttock with a bright smile. “Look at little Kook, I’m not even surprised he even won.”

“I told you, I got myself a personal cheerleader. You should get one too.” Jungkook says, grasping onto your arm. “It’s a real energy booster when they’re cute too.”

“Oooo, maybe I can borrow your cheerleader!” His teammate teases but Jungkook clicks his tongue threateningly. “Get your own, this one is mine.” His teammate laughs before shaking his head and walking away to the rest of the group.

“I’m still curious what you’re going to say to me.” He says, turning back to direct his attention onto you. “You think you can skip waiting ‘til dessert and tell me now?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” He whines and despite his height, he still can throw a tantrum like a child. “I really want to—“

“Oppa?”

The two of you divert your fixation onto the owner of the soft voice; blinking blankly, your eyes browse over the girl. You assume it’s Dahyun because her hair is down like the other day and her petite body seems familiar and you’re proven right when Jungkook calls out her name.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a math test tomorrow that you need to study for?”

She has a pink gift bag in her hand, butterfly and heart stickers decorated all over. The bag looks heavy with how the handles stretch to the fullest extent. You’re chewing your bottom lip now; Dahyun was going to confess and you’re unsure if Jungkook can tell.

“Can we talk in private for a moment, Oppa? I have to tell you something.”

“You can tell me here.” He gestures your presence with a grin on his face. “I don’t have anything to hide from her, she doesn’t judge so tell me what you have to say freely. And if she does judge...” Jungkook’s gaze shifts to you as he squints his eyes. “I’ll just beat her up.”

“Oppa, I think I like you. Will you go out with me?”

#gyukultfics #jungkook #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fics #what else do you tag here i totally forgot my train of thought lol #kfanfic #jungkook fic #bangtan #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #bts smut

423 notes · View notes

cozy-neko · 4 years ago

Text

born to be alone

now playing: around - NIKI

summary: "right now I've nothing to lose because you love me, and i love you." except he doesn't love you the way you love him. // kita shinsuke

theme(s): age-gap, one-sided pining, song-fic, hurt & comfort, angst

warning(s): 7-year age difference (in case anyone is uncomfy with that big (?) of an age gap), indirect implications of child negligence, father issues

word count: 4645

rating: light | medium | heavy

know where i've been where i'm from | 9 + 16

the first time you met kita shinsuke was on a chilly fall day. you had met him by chance, sitting all by yourself on a swing set in the middle of an empty park in the lonely hours of dusk. swaying lightly back and forth half-heartedly, you had wished instead that there was someone to give you the small push you needed to take flight and soar through the clouds.

how pitiful, you think to yourself as the creak of the rusty swing echoes and drifts away with the wind, isn’t there anybody out there for me?

you can’t help the tears that are dripping down your nose and onto the floor, and you're trying your hardest to stop your sniffles. you’re convinced that there's no one, but it’s the sound of heavy footsteps and crunching leaves approaching you that tell you otherwise.

you hold your breath, eyes still fixed onto the floor, your little nine-year-old mind refusing to believe that this was a sign sent from the heavens. a pair of loafers approach your line of sight, and the owner of those shoes silently kneel in front of you so that the two of you are in the same line of sight of one another.

vibrant golden orbs lock onto your own muddled ones. it’s the soft smile on his boyish face and intense eyes that make your cheeks flare up; you’re not used to someone looking at you so intimately and for such a long time at that.

“are you waiting for someone to pick you up?” his voice is just as kind as you had expected it to be. after all, the emotions hidden in people’s eyes do not lie; that much you knew from experience.

“there’s no one,” you whisper under your breath. there really isn’t and there never will be. the onii-san’s eyebrows furrow at your reply. he opens his mouth, about to speak, but gets interrupted by his friends calling for him.

“one second,” he calls back over his shoulder. his attention is on you again, this time a troubled expression on his face. you watch with curious eyes as he lifts his hand up in what looked like an attempt to wipe at your tear-stained cheeks, but he stopped halfway almost as if debating if it was alright for someone like him to touch someone like you.

“it’s cold out tonight,” he chooses to say instead. “would you like to come home with me and wait for your parents instead? i promise it will be warmer.”

no matter how hard you tried to suppress it, it was virtually impossible to stop the chattering of your teeth and the trembling of your body from the thin shirt you were wearing in the middle of a particularly cold autumn. the onii-san unbundles the forest green scarf around his neck and wraps it around yours a couple of times.

“kita!! hurry up, man!”

"you guys go home first," he tells his friends. waving goodbye, kita turns around to face you once more, a gentle smile back on his face.

kita...san... you say his name over and over again in your mind the entire time on your walk back to kita's house. you clutch the wool scarf in your hand tightly, nuzzling the warmth of the fabric against your wind-bitten rosy cheeks, your other small hand holding onto kita's bigger and warmer ones tightly. other than the howling wind and crunch of leaves, the rest of the walk home is silent, but surprisingly comfortable for the both of you.

you watched as my legs and pride grew tall | 14 + 21

"please be more careful," kita chastises you with a sigh. you're sitting on the back of his truck, kicking your legs childishly as you lazed around, enjoying your melting popsicle.

"oh, don't be so serious, kita-san," you playfully chastise back while licking away the sweetness that dripped down your fingers. you know he's not talking about the sticky mess you're making, but more so about the two blooming scrapes on your knees courtesy of you falling during physical education earlier in the day.

it had been a hot one today, the sun beating down onto the two of your backs still despite the day starting to set. summer was approaching quick, with the cicadas singing morning and night and humid winds ruffling messy hairs and uniform skirts.

kita was finishing up his day’s work on the rice field and you had joined him as soon as school had let out for summer break. the walk from school to the fields was a long distance, but one you did not mind trekking if it meant you got to visit kita.

“what are we gonna do with you?” kita sighs.

his back is to you as he continues his work, but you can tell that there’s a smile on his face. kita didn’t have to always be facing you for you to figure out his mood. you had known him for a while now, and you were absolutely enamored with him ever since you were younger. you had always thought your feelings for kita were comparable to a younger sister admiring her older brother; someone who you knew would always look after your well-being and doted on you even if he didn’t show it on the surface. but now as you watched the silver-haired man hum a soft tune and dutifully attended his rice crop, you weren’t so sure if those feelings didn’t hold a deeper meaning.

you nibbled the bottom of your lip nervously as you pondered your thoughts. you didn’t even notice kita was making small conversation with you until he stood directly in front of you. snapping you out of your reverie, you then realized how close kita was. you flushed furiously, eyebrows furrowing and a small pout adorning your face.

“what?” you ask huffily. kita reaches out a gloved hand and encloses it around yours. you react with a squeak as he brings your joined hands to his mouth. before you realize what had happened, kita had finished the last of your sad and melted ice cream and kissed away the melted cream from your fingers.

“you’re dirtying your uniform,” he says nonchalantly before letting go of your hand entirely. your face is burning as you try to process what had just happened. “it’s getting late; i’ll drive you home.”

you can’t believe how calm kita is after such a bold move. but could you even consider it a bold move if it had come from kita? kita was a good man; he was diligent and respectful, and not one to perform actions he didn’t truthfully mean. but over the years that you got to know him, you also knew that he was a man who was often unaware of unnecessary feelings and emotions.

“why would you be nervous?” you once remembered him questioning you when he tutored you in math. “if it’s something you practice on routine, then there should be nothing to be nervous about on the day of your test.”

it was almost infuriating sometimes, you’ve come to realize, the fact that he could be such a simple and earnest person at times, and you couldn’t tell if what had just happen just now was one of the times kita had simply acted because he thought it was the right thing to do.

sighing, you decide it wasn’t worth it to fuss over for now. instead, you respond to his declaration. “i don’t wanna go home.”

kita eyes you wearily, and you almost feel bad for saying whatever had just come out of your mouth. you knew he had been working nonstop in the blazing sun all day and could probably do without your brattiness right now.

“your father might worry,” kita says calmly in which you scoff.

“there’s no one waiting for me at home and you know it.” you take the silence from kita as a chance to hop off his truck and make your way to the passenger seat.

“y/n,” kita says warningly, but follows your lead and hops into the driver’s seat. he turns on the ignition of the truck and begins the slow drive out of the acres of fields. “you know that’s not true.”

“it is true and you know it, kita-san!” you stomped your foot once and crossed your arms, slinking down in your seat. “you’ve known me since i was literally nine, and within these four years, when has there ever been a time where someone was waiting for me when i came home from school?”

honey orbs you’ve loved a little too much analyze you carefully. you feel exposed whenever kita looks at you so closely, but if there was anyone who you wanted to be able to be the most vulnerable with, it was with kita and kita only. you can tell he’s trying to think of something careful to say with the way he absentmindedly tugs on the front pieces of his black-tinged bangs whenever he was thinking thoughtfully.

“i’m sorry, kita-san,” you apologize. "if you could, please do take me home after all. i should probably tidy up my house a bit and make dinner." you didn’t mean to put him in an uncomfortable situation; you knew he was only trying his best to be respectful of your father. you pick at the fresh scabs on your right knee. kita gently stops you and holds your hand in his left one. you look up at him in surprise.

“don't pick at it; i don't want it to scar. and, i apologize. i stepped out of bounds,” he says and gives your hand a squeeze. "let's eat dinner together tonight."

you feel your face heat up once more at the small touch of affection and realize something; it wasn’t just your hand that he squeezed, but also your heart.

for the rest of the ride back to kita’s house, you notice that his hand was still holding yours. there’s butterflies in your stomach, and you wonder how kita would react if you were to interlace your fingers with his slender ones.

shyly, you look out your window and decide to test the waters by intertwining your fingers with his. for the rest of the ride back, you’re elated that kita doesn’t pull away. in fact, he even brushes his thumb soothingly across your knuckles once and your heart soars at his small but significant affection.

ah... you think. i love you.

you know who took me to prom* | 15 + 22

"have you ever kissed anyone, kita-san?" you ask one summer evening. kita chokes on his barley tea at your sudden question.

you giggle and reach over to pat him on the back as kita coughs his lungs out. crimson adorns his high cheekbones from embarrassment and the sudden force of liquid going down the wrong way.

"why the sudden question?" he mumbles, averting his gaze and hiding his flush behind a hand to his mouth.

"just curious," you sing-song and turn your back to him to continue leafing through the manga you were reading. you're glad that your hair acted like a curtain, hiding the way your ears burned at your own bold question.

"well curiosity killed the cat," kita hums and stands up from the small coffee table.

"aw, kita-san," you pout and thumb through another page. "i bet she was cute!" you tease, but what you didn't expect was a shy response back.

"...she was," kita says quietly from the kitchen after a pause. you freeze mid-flip. kita returns from the kitchen and places a tray of two strawberry cake slices on the table. "granny stopped by today with some cake she baked. come eat while it's still fresh."

you stay still in your spot on the engawa, letting the cool breeze ruffle your loose camisole and cotton shorts. suddenly you don't feel so well. kita's response had left an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"y/n?" kita calls. you turn your head and take in the sight of kita sitting formally at the low table, cake slice in front of him and waiting patiently for you before digging in.

"my stomach doesn't feel well," you mumble weakly. kita hums once and beckons for you to come over. you sit up and crawl over to him. he pats his knees and helps you lie down, your head now on his lap.

"i told you not to wear loose shirts that can expose your stomach," kita gently scolds you and threads a hand through your hair.

"it was really hot today, kita-san," you counter weakly. your eyes slowly close at the comfort kita brings you as he continues to thread his fingers through your hair.

"you can still catch colds in the summer," kita responds.

"idiots like me won't catch summer colds," you answer back without a skip of a beat. a soft chuckle leaves kita's lips. you look up at him and are greeted with a warm smile. you can't help the one that blooms on your own face in reciprocation. he's looking down at you so lovingly, but you know the love that's on his face doesn't match the level of the one on yours.

it was undeniable that kita had grown more handsome over the last two years. his boyish face back in high school was replaced with more defined features, one of a young adult. the bangs framing his face needed a trim and his lips were a little fuller. but his eyes were the same from back then; always warm and inviting, and deep enough to get lost in. i want to kiss you...

"will you feel well enough for tonight?" kita catches you off guard. you blink, trying to process what he just asked you.

"huh?" you respond dumbly.

"for your date. you're going to the firework festival with a boy from your class, are you not?" his fingers catch against a tangle in your hair.

you had forgotten about your date for a moment. actually, that was main reason why you were at kita's house right now. you didn't want to go on that date in the first place, and you had escaped to kita's in hopes of ditching said date.

"oh..." you really didn't want to go; you wanted to be by kita's side for the remainder of the night, his hand soothingly playing with your hair. you wanted to eat strawberry cake with him and make a mess in his kitchen pretending to know what you were doing while cooking dinner with him.

"actually, he changed his mind..." you lie, averting your gaze from kita's curious one. his fingers stopped untangling your hair altogether and his eyebrows furrowed. kita took your silence as you being upset about the change in plans.

maybe you shouldn't have lied; you didn't mean to put kita in an awkward situation again. sighing, you turn your head upwards, planning on confessing about your lie. instead, your eyes widen at the close proximity of kita's face to yours. he was hunched over, his nose only mere inches away from your own. kiss me...please.

"do you want to go with me instead then?"

such a simple question, but it has your heart doing somersaults.

"are you sure?" you whisper. kita gives you a faint smile and nods.

"what kind of question is that? if i wasn't sure i wouldn't have asked you, dummy." a soft chuckle rumbles from within his chest and his fingers once again begin to stroke your hair like clockwork.

after a quick dinner, the two of you make your way to fireworks festival. kita leads you up a hill, promising you that this would hold the best view compared to the thick crowd down below. as the two of you take a seat, you wish that you had worn your prettiest summer yukata instead of the ordinary clothes kita was used to seeing you in.

as the two of you make small talk and nibble on candied apples, you can't help but feel even more worse now, knowing you had stood up your unknowing classmate. but you had kita all to yourself for the rest of the night. you just wished that he saw it as a date the way you do. unfortunately for you, kita only saw it as kindness to make up for your pseudo-heartbreak. for the rest of the night, you don't pay attention to the hanabi display and instead wish you could lay your head on kita's shoulder the way other surrounding couples were.

*a/n: instead of writing something based on this lyric, i took inspiration from it and wrote something completely different instead to fit the story better with a cliché firework festival replacing prom. :')

i wanna be the one you call drunk | 16 + 23

your cheek stung. you had just gotten into an argument with your father which resulted in his palm connecting against your cheek. your father was a piece of shit, that much you had always known. you didn't even know if he deserved to even be called your father for how often he was absent since your childhood and the number of milestones he missed.

"he's still your father.... y/n. no matter what," kita had once told you. you hated how kita always had to give people the benefit of the doubt. no matter how many times you would rant about your absentee father, kita would always be there to remind you that he was still your father. maybe it was because kita had lost his when he was too young to remember, but you didn't think yours deserved even a mere thought. kita's heart was filled with love from his granny and friends, and he had always been raised to see the good in people; it was what made him who he was today - kind, patient, and sometimes too good for his own soul.

your scuffed boots crunched against the snow. it had just snowed last night, so the temperature had dropped considerably the next day. you tucked the bottom half of your face under your green scarf in hopes of it shielding you from the biting cold even just by a little. as you trekked across the white field, you pulled out your phone and numbly dialed kita's line only to be met with his voicemail after a few rings.

sighing, you stuffed your phone back in your pocket and looked up at the gloomy sky. you forgot that kita had a high school volleyball reunion today. he was probably too busy getting coerced into singing karaoke and drinking games.

life seriously sucks right now, you think to yourself. you exhale again, watching your breath mix with the brisk air. it was cold and you felt the loneliest you had felt in a while. hot tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to make their way down your cheeks. if kita was out, you didn't know where else to go; your safe haven was suddenly unavailable.

your phone ringing cut through your misery, prompting you to pull it out and take a look at who was calling. kita-san. you scrambled to swipe your frozen fingers across the screen to pick up the call.

"kita-san?" you sniffle. there's no reply on the other end, but instead loud laughter and the sound of the phone fumbling in someone's hands. "hello?"

you're about to hang up, dejected in thinking that kita had accidentally butt-dialed you, until you hear his voice.

"y/n." it's short and merely a greeting, but it has your heart reacting to him nonetheless.

"hi, kita-san," you reply back in a small voice. "how's your volleyball reunion? are you drunk yet?" you joke, a small laugh escaping your lips.

"is something wrong?" kita cuts you off before you can say any more.

"what do you mean?" you try to brush off his question and do your best to not sniffle.

"you were crying. i can hear it in your voice." and just like that, the dam breaks and tears run down your face. it's amazing how even the smallest of things kita is able to pick up on despite not physically being with you.

"i'm alright," you try to convince him, but you aren't even convinced yourself with the way your voice breaks in between sobs.

"where are you? i'm coming to you."

"no, it's okay. please don't come." at this point, you're crying harder at kita's concern about you. you don't want to cause him any trouble; you've already burdened him enough for the past seven years.

"kita! where are you going?" you hear his friends calling after him through his end. you can tell he's scrambling to put on his coat to leave and find you.

"meet me at the park," kita tells you. he doesn't even give you a chance to retort back as he hangs up the call.

your heart swells at the thought of you burdening him once more, but it also soars with the thought of getting to see kita when you needed him the most.

twenty minutes later, kita finds you sitting on the same swing he had found you seven years ago. he's out of breath, having run from the karaoke place in the middle of town all the way to the park he had promised to find you at. his hair is matted against the sweat of his forehead, and he's feeling too warm for his thick winter coat, but he's glad to see you waiting for him. what he's not glad to see are the tearstains on your swollen cheek.

kita approaches you and kneels to be eye-level with you. he reaches out a gloved hand and gently cups your swollen cheek, a frown marring his pretty face. he's still slightly breathless, and you can smell the alcohol from his breath. he must've had quite the amount of drinks considering the rosy glow on his face and the slightly glazed eyes. kita's mind is slightly hazy from the copious amount of beers atsumu shoved down his throat, but that's not new to him; he refuses to admit it, but his mind is always slightly hazy when he's with you.

"i'm sorry," kita apologizes. you feel like a hot mess with your wind-blown hair, puffy eyes and cheek and runny nose. to kita, you're still the most beautiful thing in the world. a pretty crier, he had called you once when you were eleven as he stroked your hair soothingly to calm you down.

you had often thrown temper tantrums when you were little, not understanding that it was the negligence from an absent father and dead mother that had built up the thorns that tried so hard to protect your fragile heart. kita had felt pity for you when you were younger and crying your eyes out. but now, seeing you at sixteen, the peak of your teenage years with tearstained cheeks and hiccupping breaths, hurt his heart.

"i'm sorry." his breath fans across your face as he leans in to touch his forehead with yours. you sob harder, your grip on his coat tightening and refusing to let go.

right now i’ve got nothing to lose because you love me, and i love you | 17 + 24

a lot can happen in one year, you tell yourself. you're staring out the window of the train, the scenery passing by in a blur, but you're hardly paying attention. how could you when the only thing you can think about is where you're headed.

in the past year, you had fallen hard in love and had gotten your heart broken. but within that one year, you had also somewhat rekindled your broken relationship with your father who had begged for your forgiveness and promised to be a better father. you had reluctantly agreed to try to repair what little relationship the two of you had and were now on your way to live with him in sendai. he had promised you a better life in a new town, and you felt that moving might give you the fresh start you knew you needed. staying in hyogo was only starting to weigh you down with memories filled with kita.

you remember that day in the park where kita had kneeled in front of you, comforting you. you remember the way his forehead leaned against yours, your breaths mingling in the chilling cold. you remember closing the gap between your lips, salty tears mixing with the bittersweet tang of soft lips. you also remember the way kita's lips did not respond to yours the way you thought they would. and you devastatingly remember the way he pulled away from you, rejection and sadness evident in those eyes that you loved too much.

you remember the uncomfortable silence shrouded between the two of you as kita walked you back home. for the remainder of the year, kita felt a responsibility as the older one to try his hardest to make things normal between the two of you, but you didn't have the heart to reciprocate the effort. how could you, when the man you have loved for half of your life didn't love you back the same way you did? you didn't think your relationship with kita would ever mend, but as seasons changed, you found it slightly easier to start talking to him again little by little. before you knew it, you came to realize that it was simply enough for kita to hold you as one of the most important people in his life.

"i'm moving to sendai with my dad, kita-san. he asked me to move with him so we could start over and i'm thinking of going with him."

kita's eyes widened, and his movements stilled. he whipped around to face you, but you still had your back to him. he wondered what kind of expression you were making. you've been happier lately, kita had noticed, and he wondered if it was because of what you had just told him.

"that's wonderful, y/n," he tells you after drawing in a deep breath. kita stands up from crouching over the bed of flowers he was watering in his small garden and crouches down next to you. your eyes finally steadily meet his after two long months. "i'll miss your company." he wishes instead he could tell you that he would miss you altogether.

"i'll come visit when i have breaks." you're grinning, but kita knows it's not genuine. "i don't regret it, you know." you tell him suddenly and stand up straight. kita looks up and squints, the sun blinding his eyes.

"regret what?"

"loving you." your hands are clasped behind your back, and you're fiddling your fingers, but your posture is tall and straight. a small huff comes out of kita's mouth, and his lips break into a smile.

"yeah. thank you," he replies, and he genuinely means it.

kita stands up to his full height and reaches a hand towards your face. you flinch on instinct, squeeze your eyes shut, and hold your breath. delicate fingers ghost across your cheek before making way to tuck a small daisy in your hair. kita ducks down to your height-level and brushes his lips against your cheeks in a chaste goodbye kiss. you breathe in his scent, the comforting sun mixed with clean laundry detergent. you hope to keep a piece of him with you always.

[now approaching sendai station. please make sure to collect all your belongings and enjoy your stay in sendai]

ah... you think bitterly. a lone tear drips down your cheek as you exit the train and step onto the sendai platform. in this world, we were born to be alone after all.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #kita shinsuke #hq x kenma #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#writings #in celebration of kita's episode in hq!

54 notes · View notes

signed-yours-truly-the-whale · 4 years ago

Text

Babes in Chuckletown

OHO BOY, am I angry.

I was in the middle of a very long chapter in my fanfic when my computer randomly decided to restart, costing me NOT ONLY a very long chapter, but the ENTIRE THIRTEEN-CHAPTER DOCUMENT. I thank god that I uploaded it all to AO3 up until the thirteenth chapter (which is going to be a pain the ass to rewrite), but now I have to go in and copy-paste, re-bold and re-italicize everything.

So that’s how my Halloween is going. Excuse me while I cry.

Anyway. Please enjoy this one-shot I’m making up on the fly about Arthur having no choice but bringing his small child to Ha-Ha’s because he has nobody to watch her. Me being in an angry mood helps me to channel Hoyt’s ... Hoytish-ness. Hoyt was definitely an asshole in the movie, but I feel like the lines “I like you, Arthur” and “I’m trying to help you” flew under the radar in light of his dickishness.

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, I just have no conceivable idea where this would logically fit into my fanfiction, so I gift it here. I’ll let this be a birthday present for the incredible @funsizedshrimp, since they seem to love my Carrie Fleck as much as I do and I absolutely should return the favor for all the lovely art they gift to me. I love you lots, you wonderful person you.

__________________ ______________ __________________

“Hey Peanut, can you do me a favor?”

Arthur’s voice was soft, nearly indecipherable. The pudgy hand that had been grasping at his shirt collar suddenly pushed against him, exerting the energy to be able to lift her head up.

One bleary eye opened to look at him. Her cheek was rosy from her uneasy resting spot on his collarbone. Neither the time nor the place allowed for such coddling, but he continued to rock her on his hip uneasily.

“Mm?” she questioned.

“Can you put a hand over your ear?” he asked, softer still. “Daddy has to talk to someone and it might be a little loud. Not suitable for a baby’s ears.”

Although Carrie grumbled something that only he could decipher as “Not a baby,” she conceded. The sharp bone in her ear pressing against his collarbone hurt, but in the magical age where she began repeating every colorful phrase she heard from the television, he couldn’t risk anything.

Taking in a wavering breath, clutching the bag in his hand tighter, Arthur opened his boss’ door.

“Oh, how fucking nice of you to ... what the fuck is this?”

Hoyt looked up from his stack of documents -- chiefly the words complaint, absence, and Carnival bore into his head from a yellow slip on his desk -- to see Ha Ha’s resident hooky flinch in protest. What he first thought was an overgrown ragdoll, he realized with some incredulity was a toddler, pressing its head into Arthur’s neck.

“You brought a fucking kid into my shop?” he asked, voice rising.

“Hoyt ... please --”

“Please what? This should be good.”

It gave him no pleasure to watch Arthur be so hopelessly awkward, dropping the paper bag in a vain attempt to hike the kid further up on his person. He knew the guy was going through a rough patch with the wife. That it happened on Hoyt’s dime, though, made him hard to sympathize with.

Fumbling for something to do besides stand uncomfortably and rock his daughter into a sleep that she couldn’t attain, Arthur sat in the green chair across from Hoyt’s desk. He positioned Carrie to be able to rest easier in his lap. At a groggy whimper, his hand instinctively pressed against her arm, hoping it would keep her semi-warm. He didn’t know why Hoyt kept the AC on at all hours of the day.

“Well aren’t you a real mother hen,” Hoyt observed, devoid of anything Arthur could recognize as a positive emotion. “What’s it doing here?”

“I ... I had no other options,” he blurted out. “I can’t afford another day off work, but I have nobody to watch her.”

“Do I look like I’m runnin’ a charity ward, Arthur?” Upon further thought, “You didn’t bring her through the locker room, did you?”

“Nobody else is here,” he said quickly, realizing how bad that might’ve sounded once it reached his own ears. “And I made her close her eyes.”

Two scraggly grey eyebrows rose in vague surprise.

“Your mistake, not mine.”

Arthur felt the tips of his ears burn, unsure if he guessed correctly what Hoyt was referring to. Carrie may have been a surprise, but she was no mistake.

“How are you supposed to keep track of the kid on assignment?” Hoyt questioned, flitting through the ever-expanding pile of papers on his desk. “You’re booked for Amusement Mile today. That’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

Awkwardly, Arthur cleared his throat, feeling unable to meet Hoyt’s disbelieving eyes. His fingers rubbed Carrie’s arm up and down. She burrowed further into the crook of his neck, keeping her hand dutifully over her ear as promised. Her face was hidden from view by a crop of blonde hair -- the little veil he had left that kept work and home as two separate realities.

“I - I, um ...” A giggle got caught in his throat, as thick as a billiard ball. He forced it down. “I was wondering if I could keep her here. Just ... just for --”

“What?”

“Just for today, a -- and tomorrow, I’ll be sure --”

“Are you stupid?” Hoyt cuts in, and Arthur’s hand moves from his daughter’s arm to the small hand over her ear like a reflex. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“W -- well, Randall brought in his kid a few w -- weeks ago ... I thought maybe ...”

“Randall’s kid is twelve already, not three.” Hoyt heard a soft mutter of “she’ll be five soon,” as if it would sway the argument in Arthur’s court at all. “What the hell are you thinking in that fucked-up head? No relatives, no friends?”

“Nobody,” he said, and it surprised Hoyt that he hadn’t seen Arthur ... quite so sad before. He’d been sad, sure, but not pitiful. He couldn’t be more pitiful if he was dressed as Carnival doing this begging. “My -- my wife just left, I don’t know where she is. My in-laws are on vacation in Burbank and my mom is in the hospital. The neighbors won’t take her and -- and the preschool is closed ‘cause of a rat infestation. Hoyt, I’m ... I’m begging you.”

Something about the sight was so pitiful, so unfunny in his desperation, that Hoyt narrowly refrained from cutting back with My mistake for thinking you’d have friends.

“Mmf, Daddy,” the source of the frustration croaked. “My arm hurts. Can I put it down?”

“Yeah, Peanut,” he said quietly. The hand slid out from underneath his warm palm and found its way around his neck once again. A thumb brushed away a few strands of hair from her face, unveiling a curtain for her to view this strange new room.

Hoyt almost let slip a surprised “holy shit” as the kid’s head rose to look around the office, wide-eyed in her wonderment, but he thought better of it. But holy shit, did she look like Arthur, in eyes and face shape at least. Slap on a greasy brown wig and she could’ve been a pint-sized clone.

“A jack in the box,” she said quietly, pointing at the dumb clown statue out of his sight in front of his desk. “Daddy, jack in the box.”

“Yeah, Carrie, I see.”

Hoyt bit his lip, at a loss. It was always harder to turn a kid away when he had a name and a face to set to them. Until then the kid could’ve been a delusion for all he knew, the way Arthur talked about her like there was no god damn tomorrow. Who on this green earth would ever think to --?

Ugh. Fuck.

“You owe me, Arthur. Big time.”

____________________

Nine in the morning rolled around to a relative calm. The kid was, to his relief, quiet and weedy for the most part, like her quiet, weedy father. A long stretch of silence ensued -- half-hour? Two hours? He didn’t fucking know -- where the rhythmic punching of the time cards from the locker room and pen (or crayon) on paper substituted for awkward and mindless conversation he didn’t want to indulge in.

His only indication that she was there at all was the knowledge that his door hadn’t opened since Arthur hurried out to get ready and dropped her in Hoyt’s proverbial lap (had it been a literal instance, he might’ve tossed the kid through the window on reflex), and the occasional kicking of leather sandals and bell bottom pant legs barely visible from his vantage point.

“Hey, don’t get any crayon on my floor,” he warned, wondering internally if she made up for in mischief what she lacked in outward annoyance.

“I won’t,” she replied, too high and cheery for nine in the morning. “I draw pictures to stop Daddy being sad.”

Well isn’t that just fucking lovely. But he had a schedule to amend.

He could send Arthur to the kids’ hospital in Randall’s place -- the kids seemed to really respond to Arthur better ... god, why did Randall have to be such an obnoxious prick of a clown with the kids? It was getting harder and harder to place him--

The rustling of paper and a soft grunt made him look up. Hiding her face from his view, the kid was holding up a drawing of ... colored dots? Big whoop.

She pointed to a bright green one, taking up the center of the page.

“That’s -- that’s my daddy at work,” she explained. He raised a brow. Quite a likeness. “And that’s me, with an ice cream.”

Her little pointer finger trailed to the scribble next to the green -- a flurry of yellow and brown and pink. Was that what she’d spent the last hour on?

“What’s that then?” he asked before he could stop himself, not realizing any words had left his mouth at all until the cap of a chewed blue Bic pen tapped against a blue scribble, neatly tucked away in a folded corner.

“That’s my mommy,” she explained, as casual as though he’d asked for the time. Oh. “She’s taking a break.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say something he might regret in the hours to come. Before coming to the realization that it was not his business nor his time to care, a question flitted through his mind if Arthur had told the kid about her mom at all.

“I got work to do,” he settled. “Read a book or something.”

____________________

Hoyt never thought he’d ever be disappointed to have a knock on the door that wasn’t Arthur.

“C’min,” he said distractedly.

“Hoyt,” Gary said. “Barney needs the key to the storage closet. Forgot his shoes at home.”

“Second time this week,” Hoyt tutted. Standing up, he allowed himself a stretch that popped his back in several satisfying places, and reached for the key under the strip of tape marked STORAGE. “Tell him this had better be the last damn time.”

“I’ll try.”

Their eyes, as though having just materialized in the room, landed on the girl, still lying on the floor but looking up at Gary, saying nothing. Gary’s face softened.

“Oh, hello,” he said amiably. “Is this your daughter, Hoyt?”

Don’t ever say something like that again --

“Nah.” He shook his head and sat back down. “Arthur’s kid.”

A moment of recognition passed where Gary’s eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. His smile grew wider.

“So this is the Carrie we’ve heard all about,” he exclaimed, sticking his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fleck.”

At the lack of response, Hoyt looked over the desk. A blonde crop of hair was unmoved, and even quieter than she’d been before.

“Didn’t your daddy teach you not to stare?” Hoyt probed.

“She’s alright, Hoyt,” Gary countered, keeping his eyes on the girl. “She’s still very young.”

No time like now to teach ‘em not to stare

“Thanks, Hoyt,” Gary continued. At the door frame again, he smiled once more at the kid. “It was very nice to meet you, Carrie.”

The door closed. As if cued by the click of the lock, she turned quickly to Hoyt.

“He was small!” she whispered.

“Yeah, and you’re rude.”

“How rude?”

“It’s fuckin’ rude to stare at him ‘cause he’s short,” Hoyt snapped, pulling yet another litany of papers in a barely-together manila folder from an overstuffed desk drawer. “He doesn’t stare at you ‘cause you’re a girl.”

“But that was scary.”

“There’s a lot scarier guys to be on the lookout for, kid.”

“Who?”

Your daddy, for one.

“I don’t wanna be rude,” she said quietly, beginning to stand. She swiped a bit of dust from the knee of her bell bottoms, putting a nagging word in the back of his mind to sweep the office soon. “I wanna be like my daddy. He’s nice.”

He looked at her briefly before returning to his papers again. Crudely and off-tune, he made out that she was attempting to whistle the Andy Griffith theme.

Andy Griffith. Sheriff Barney Fife. God damn you, Gary.

The back of a blonde head was cast in varying shades as she stood in front of the window slats, drawing a little pointer finger over the sharpie-marked letters. MIME. WHITE FACE PAINT

I have no doubt you’ll be exactly like your daddy. Good luck with that.

____________________

Two o’clock gave Hoyt his first opportunity to get a real look at the Fleck girl. That still felt weird to say.

“Here,” he said stiffly, digging into his back pocket to produce two dimes. “Go down the hall ‘til you reach the Pepsi machine and get us two sodas. It’s lunch time.”

She swiped the dimes from his hand. The contact of nails against his palm made him shiver more than he expected. She felt startlingly real.

A few hesitant steps later -- and he really had to question how poor Arthur was that she looked at the dimes like she’d never seen them before -- she turned to look at him. The pink clip holding her bangs back suddenly bobbed on her head.

“Daddy not let me have soda,” she said.

“Your daddy’s out working. Skedaddle.”

“But what if he come and sees?”

She was lucky her little girl charm made up for the annoying inconsistency of her grammar. If there was one thing Hoyt hated, it was inconsistency.

“We got two hours ‘til you gotta worry about that.”

He looked down again, swiping a red mark through Randall’s name. Another complaint from a kid’s parent from the latest birthday party. God damn --

A clanking made him look up, and sigh. She couldn’t reach the door handle.

“Every paper I can’t sign ‘cause of lookin’ after you is coming out of your daddy’s paycheck,” he threatened, standing to open the door.

The kid was made all the more startlingly real, assaulting his senses as he had to grab her arms and push her forward to get her to stop gawking at the animal statues and props in the storage closet that swallowed the hallway. At least the locker room was empty.

What the fuck are you thinking bringing her here, Fleck?

Leaning against the opposite wall, he watched with waning curiosity as she rushed over to the machine, concluded she was too short to reach the buttons, and pulled over a yellow chair (the uneven wobbly one that grated on his nerves to hear scraping against the ground in uneven increments) to stand on. Licks of curls rested on her shoulders, reminding Hoyt of her mop-headed father.

Rushing back to him, she triumphantly handed him a blue Pepsi can, keeping the Mountain Dew for herself. Eh, he’s had worse.

“Stay,” he said gruffly, unsure of what else to say. He was more accustomed to dogs than kids, but felt satisfied by her listening skills when she climbed into the yellow chair next to the black trunk-table.

Two minutes later and he found himself in the impossibly weird scenario of not only having lunch outside of the comfort of his office, but tossing a banana to a kid who, by all the laws of nature, should not really be allowed to exist. Cute as she may be, to see physical proof of Arthur Fleck’s sex life made it hard to look at her for more than a few seconds.

Hoyt looked anyway, a little annoyed at her inability to open the soda can with her frail little finger. Weak like her damn dad. He swiped it, opened it with a secretly satisfying hiss, and watched her take a great sip. Scrunching her nose -- thank god for her, it wasn’t like Arthur’s -- she stuck her tongue out in derision before reaching over to set it on the table.

Hoyt switched the cans. He hated Pepsi anyway.

He also hated bananas, and the leftover couscous his wife made the previous evening. Mentally he made a note to pack his own damn lunches from then on.

So the banana went to the kid, less out of concern for her eating and more as a means to stop any bellyaching from either her or his wife later.

“So your dad doesn’t let you have soda,” he found himself asking. Why his brain was unable to catch up with his mouth, he wasn’t really sure.

Through a mouthful, she shook her head at him. Swallowing down a sizeable bite, she said, “The sugar bad for my heart.”

“Hmm.”

“My mommy let me have soda, though,” she said, perkier now in a way that made him feel a little rigid. “She likes Coke.”

Hoyt held back a snort of derision and surprise. There were funnier things to mock Arthur about than his wife hitting it big and leaving. Coke was for the rich, he knew. Poor people ... drank Pepsi, he supposed, looking at the kid and the soda can again.

She seemed much more content with the Pepsi can. Metaphorical? Maybe. He was never one to think of analogies -- nor did he really care.

At the sound of the entrance banging open, her eyes widened and she went red. Her hands stayed firmly around the soda can as her proverbial cookie jar.

Whatever jaunty tune Randall was whistling as though he wasn’t twenty minutes late was cut short upon making eye contact with the kid. Hoyt saw something that looked friendly, but not in the same fashion that maybe Gary had in mind.

“Didn’t realize you paid for ‘em so young, Hoyt.”

An inexplicable burning sensation flared in the tips of Hoyt’s ears.

“It’s Arthur’s kid, now fuck off,” he said quickly. “And you’re late.”

“Car broke down again.”

“Well get it fixed, or don’t let it break down on my time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Randall sighed, breezing past them with his nicotine-smelling clown suit in hand, chief of the parents’ complaints.

The girl’s eyes trailed after the huge man, staying on the hallway long after he’d left. She leaned in just after he took in a mouthful of cold, crunchy couscous.

“What did he mean?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t ask questions.”

____________________

Hoyt’s leg bounced, eyeing the clock out of his peripheral. If Arthur believed Hoyt was letting himself be saddled with the kid for one minute past four o’clock, he was really out of it.

The kid was getting restless, and relentlessly annoying. She surprised him with her expert knowledge on blowing up and tying balloons -- of course Arthur would teach her that, what a valuable life skill -- but the inefficient scraping of two ends of a tightly-woven balloon into a barely-decipherable balloon animal made him wanna pop the thing right in her face. God damn, why did he keep a pile of them within her reach?

She made a snake, she declared. Or a worm.

Upon reaching for another one, it came with an unnecessary avalanche of wormy friends as the corner of a plastic bag scattered a cluster of colored balloons on the carpeted floor.

“Shit,” he grumbled, rounding the desk to collect them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put back the one she’d originally grabbed. “You’d better hope your dad has money to pay for new balloons, kid.”

“Shhh ...” His eyes narrowed at her, watching her lean down with him to collect handfuls -- albeit smaller handfuls -- of long balloons. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

____________________

Two minutes to four, Arthur came into the office, looking like a man on a mission. It was to his visible relief, Hoyt noticed, that the kid was happy and very much alive.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, hopping from the chair to take aim around his pant leg, leaving her picture book on the ground. A hand stroked some hair behind her ear and she smiled sappily up at him. “I drew you pictures and -- and I made you a balloon snake, but it popped.”

Groaning, he pried her arms away and bent down to her level.

“Were you good for Hoyt?” he asked, the faintest smile threatening to split on his face. Eight hours of work would not stop him from enjoying how soft her hair was, or how she smelled like cherries when she hugged his hulking, sweaty form.

“Just aces,” Hoyt smiled cloyingly, twisting a pen cap between his fingers. “Get a sitter for her tomorrow or don’t bother coming in.”

“That good, huh?” Arthur questioned, groaning again in achy protest as he stood up. “I’ll find a sitter for her, I promise.”

____________________

Three hours and two much-needed baths later, Arthur was finding a familiar rhythm in twirling his best girl around their little living room, not minding that he got lost in the mask he wore in front of her. Their old turntable warbled and scratched, but he scarcely noticed.

Carrie didn’t smile at anybody the way she smiled at him. He hoped she knew the flip side to that was true as well.

Que sera sera

Whatever will be, will be

The future’s not ours to see

Que sera sera

“I talked with Mom on the phone today,” he mentioned, watching her face brighten into a widening grin. “She said she wants to meet up with us to take you to lunch on Saturday.”

“Is she come back?” she asked. With her left hand enveloped in her father’s, she shifted her right arm so it rested against his chest and she could lean back to look at him. His face fell slightly.

“No, Peanut, I don’t think so. But you’ve been doing so well with school ‘til it closed, I thought you could tell her all the new rhyming words you learned. You learned what rhymes with bit, didn’t you?”

Her eyes traveled up to the ceiling, scrunching her nose to remember.

“Split,” she concluded, aglow in his proud smile. “Now you.”

“Befit. You?”

“Uh ... grit.”

At a very inelegant dip, which sent her into shrieking giggles as she felt her ponytail brush the floor, he said, “Banana split.”

“That doesn’t count!” she laughed.

“Oh, really? How does it not count?” he humored.

“Cause I said split! No cheating!”

“Then tool kit,” he smiled. “But now you have to think of two words.”

“Quit, and ...” She stopped to consider. “Oh, I learned one today! Shit.”

____________________

“Hoyt?”

“What do you want?”

Arthur looked from the paper in his hands, to the area of space between his person and the paper, filled in by the sight of his feet doing an awkward little soft shoe. Should he even question Hoyt about this? He was as honest as he could be, but something about this didn’t seem to add up.

“It’s just, uh ... my paycheck seems higher than it should be?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, no, but --”

“Then what is it?”

A nervous sweat started to form at Arthur’s hairline.

“It’s just that ... I did the math, and -- and it looks like you paid me for one of the days I didn’t work.”

“Are you tellin’ me you don’t think I did my math right? Go get a fuckin’ bank job if you think you know better.”

“So ... I’m -- I’m fine if I deposit the two hundred from the check?”

“Your money,” Hoyt grumbled, signing away another mindless paper. For being a clown business, he sure did have a shitload of paperwork. “Pay your rent, buy a hooker, some booze ... a snazzy divorce lawyer.”

Turning, Arthur felt something air-light in his chest, still disbelieving of the good fortune.

I can pay the rent, he registered. I can pay the rent and I can buy Carrie some new toys.

“Hey, how’s the little ankle-biter, by the way?”

He turned again, slower.

“What?”

“Kelly, the -- the kid you brought in on Monday. Raised hell in my office.”

“Oh ... Carrie?”

Arthur looked down at his shoes again, smiling. Staying with his mom and her newly-broken arm, bellyaching about wanting Hoyt at her babysitter again because “Nana can only make TV dinners.”

“She’s just aces.”

#arthur fleck #dad!arthur fleck #hoyt vaughn #joker #joker 2019

8 notes · View notes

mysamcedesmadness · 6 years ago

Text

So, Hate to Burst Your Bubble (But, This is Mine)

Something that @bamonstrash sort of requested that I wanted to do, but didn't want to make a whole story for (I had no idea that you were also @unbotheredbeauty)

So, Hate to Burst Your Bubble (But, This is Mine)

The last time that they saw these kids, there was a disturbing amount of swooning and fawning over Henry that legit made Charlotte pretty uncomfortable. It wasn't because of any attachment to him back then. It was just weird. This time around, she was in a much different headspace.

She and Henry had been dating now for months, and they were both pretty serious about it. They spent most of her free time together and with the Game Shakers staying in town again (this time to hopefully do what they set out to do the last time around), she didn't think much of it.

They already "knew" Piper from their first visit to Swellview, so they'd contacted her again to rent the house. The Harts remembered it going "surprisingly well" last time, somehow, and approved it. Therefore, Henry would have to spend a little more time at home that week… but not so much as last time. Which meant that Charlotte was gonna spend a little more time there, too.

All Henry planned on doing was chilling when company was over (Jasper), then chilling with Char in his room when Jasp was gone. Her summer clothes had been hitting the spot. She never really wore revealing stuff over the years, but since they got together, she'd started showing more skin and he realized that might be for his benefit. What else could he do but fully revel in the new looks she served? She had the crop tops, tube tops and short shorts WORKING for her.

Piper rented the house out, but as soon as their parents were gone and she collected her fee, she vanished, too. Which meant that those four kids kept knocking on Henry's door to ask for things. He and Charlotte were into some pretty intense kissing when that one girl knocked, then opened the door and asked, "Are we able to use the laundry room supplies?"

Charlotte had jumped off of the bed and practically across the room and a very frustrated Henry snapped, "Use whatever you want! Nobody else knock on this door. I'm doing very important things, here!"

He heard her report to the others, "His friend is here. I think they're doing work for Captain You Know Who. He wants some privacy. Said use it whatever we want." But, by that time, Charlotte was ready to head home.

"If you leave, I'm killing those kids," Henry half joked.

"What do you think Captain You Know Who would say about that?" She teased. He was pouting. "Chill out. You've had more than enough kisses today, Friend."

He folded his arms, "I wanted ALL the kisses!"

"See you tomorrow," she said. On her way out, she saw that the kids seemed to be working in the living room. "Bye, kids," she said.

"Bye Charlotte!" Hudson cheered, waving excitedly. Trip gave her a peace sign and Kenzie smiled a little bit. Babe was already heading back upstairs, probably to pester Henry again. Charlotte called out specifically, "Bye Babe!"

"Bye, Charpay!" She said from upstairs. Charlotte rolled her eyes and left.

Charlotte was at work early to finish up some things that she had left the day before and to make sure that Ray had not been neglecting calls. So, she was there whenever Henry came in, exhausted looking and flopped himself on the couch. "Morning, Hen. Long night after I left?"

"The longest. I had to bribe the kids with the promise of visiting the Man Cave again to get them to go to bed and leave me alone."

"The kids, or Babe?"

"Babe… and Hudson. Trip's a cool kid and Kenzie's got a good head on her shoulders. They went away fairly easily. Hudson… was super hyper and Babe was really talkative. But, they let me test out games that they were working on. They have some good ideas in progress."

"What did Babe say when she came to your room?" Charlotte casually asked, not talking her attention off of what she was doing.

Henry thought for a moment, trying to remember. The dang girl had said so much! "She asked if I was done with work for the night and offered to keep me company."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and wondered, "And your response?"

"I was getting ready to shower."

"She offer to keep you company there?" Charlotte asked, snarky about it.

"No!" Henry answered, not getting her tone. "I'm naked in there!" She simply rolled her eyes and continued working. "Anyway, they'll be here after they've had breakfast and washed up. Then hopefully, that's the last of them I have to see. I like them, just don't feel like them impeding on my time this way. Do you know where Piper's been?"

"She went to the water park with the Bilskys. That's why she needed that money. Billy didn't want her to come if she was gonna steal and cheat like his family."

"Ugh. Rude. So what's good for the goose isn't good for the gander?"

"She's very likely gonna keep her money and steal and cheat anyway," Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. The elevator sounded and they both looked to see Babe stepping off, by herself, all dolled up. Henry rolled his eyes and laid back down. Charlotte rolled hers and returned to her work.

"Hi, Henry, Charmin!"

"Her name is Charlotte," Henry said, not getting up or even returning the greeting. "I thought all of you were coming after breakfast and stuff. I haven't even had coffee or donuts."

"They were taking too long to decide what they were going to eat. I don't usually have breakfast anyway. Trying to keep my girlish figure." She posed, showing off this alleged figure.

Charlotte commented, "You might not know this, because I think they just came out with it yesterday, but they're actually very many healthy options for breakfast."

Henry sat up now, with an eyebrow raised, looking at Charlotte's back. What was that he'd just heard in her tone? Whatever it was, he simply replied, “Charlotte’s likely got plenty of fresh fruit, if you’re hungry.”

“Charlotte’s got fresh fruit, for Charlotte,” Charlotte said, with a tight smile. There it was again! What the heck had gotten into her?

Babe commented, “It’s fine. I think she and I have different ideas of what kind of bodies that we want.”

Now, Charlotte turned around in the chair completely, to check to see if this girl was for real. She had sat right next to Henry as she said this, and very close to him, at that. He smiled and slid over a little bit.

“Some of us want healthy functional bodies,” Charlotte informed Babe.

Babe slid closer to Henry again and wondered, “What kind of body do you prefer, Henry?”

Charlotte got up and started gathering her things. There was no way that she was about to endure a day of this, or even a morning.

“The healthy functional type hasn’t steered me wrong, yet,” he said, nearly falling off of the other side of the booth moving away from her. “Char… You goin’ someplace?” He asked, nervously. Because, she couldn’t possibly be about to leave him here with this clingy girl who was throwing herself at him very uncomfortably. At least tell her off or something, so I don’t have to!

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too great. I think I’ll go for a run and maybe feed the rest of my leftover fruit to the ducks at the pond.” Henry definitely noted that she had plenty of fruit she could’ve shared with Babe, so she must have purposefully wanted her to realize that she wasn’t entitled to anything that was Charlotte’s… including Henry, which she made known within the next few moments when she leaned over him and gave him a long kiss on the lips.

Now, anybody that knew Charlotte could tell you that Charlotte didn’t give Henry long kisses on the lips in front of people. It took her weeks to even give him short kisses in front of people. She also generally pulled away from his short kisses if people were present. This wasn’t just a kiss, it was a declaration! And Henry was HERE for it! He grabbed her, nearly pulling her on top of him to return the kiss until she saw fit to pause. She nonchalantly and discretely glanced towards Babe as she wiped her peach lip gloss on Henry’s bottom lip with her thumb. “See you later, Babe.” Okay, so not only was it SO HOT to Henry that Charlotte was clearly feeling some kind of way about Babe flirting with him, but that take charge, possessive “back off sister” kiss that she had given him was the fuel of his dreams. All he wanted right now was her to straddle him on this floor.

Babe’s eyes and mouth were wide with shock and shame. She forced herself to give a small wave and say in a quiet voice, “Bye, Charlotte.”

Charlotte headed for the elevator and commented, “Girl, you look flushed. If I were you, I’d really get that diet in check. Nutritionists will tell you that unhealthy eating habits can lead to bad skin.” She stepped onto the elevator fighting the urge to laugh. Was that mean? Yeah, but eff her, though.

Babe and Henry were silent for a while, then he wondered, “Did you maybe wanna get something from the auto snacker?” She blinked for the first time since seeing that kiss and shook her head. “I’m gonna have churros for breakfast. Char’s big on healthy. I just like whatever is goood.” He jumped up, some pep in his step, suddenly revived for the day and humming to himself as he headed for the snacker. “Big plate of churros,” he sang in a high pitch voice, pressing the button.

Ray came out of the back, checking his text from Henry: Guests in Man Cave. Don’t be Ray.

He quickly turned and dodged being noticed by Babe, but Henry saw him and gasped whenever he did. Ray changed into Captain Man with disdain in his face and marched up to Henry, “Guests? In my Man Cave? What makes you think you had the right?” He snatched the plate of churros from Henry’s hands and shook his head. “Girl child, today was not a day that Captain Man planned on having guests.”

She nodded her head, super sad and tried not to cry, “I’ll tell my friends not to bother.”

Captain Man’s chewing slowed as he wondered what in the world he was witnessing in this girl’s behavior, but he wasn’t too distracted to swat Henry’s hand when he reached for a churro. “Hey. What’s wrong with you? You’re in the Man Cave with Captain Man. Why are you looking like a sad sourpuss?”

“To be fair, you just kicked her out of the Man Cave. Like, on sight.”

“She looked like that when I came in,” he said and tossed the plate behind him. Henry scoffed at the churros flying everywhere and tried to catch some. Gosh dang that Rick Twitler! Also, I am NOT cleaning this mess up. He walked back to the auto snacker for another plate of churros while Captain Man interrogated Babe. “So, Girl. What’s your problem?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Are you lying to Captain Man?”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I just… Would prefer not to talk about this right now…”

Henry stuffed a churro into his mouth and said, “She was doing fine up until Charlotte left. I think she felt uncomfortable because of the goodbye kiss.”

“Charlotte gave her a goodbye kiss???” Captain Man asked, extremely shocked. He placed a hand over Babe’s and said, “I understand your distress. Not only is that terrifying, but what sense did it even make?" Babe was now sad and confused… "Wait!” He pointed at Henry, “Is this some kind of weird fantasy for you?”

Henry sat down and shook his head, “Charlotte didn’t kiss her, Dude. She kissed me, in front of her. Like lengthy lip kiss with tongue.”

“That sounds less believable than Charlotte kissing her, to be honest.” Henry made a face. “Come on, Henry. Charlotte kissed you? IN FRONT of this girl? Why would she do that?”

"Uh duh, she's my girlfriend."

"Uh, duh. She's been your girlfriend and she still doesn't kiss you in front of people. Ever. Wonder why she'd do it now? Today, in this place, in front of this girl?" He mused, thoughtfully. "Oooh! She's scared you're gonna cheat with a cuter, younger girl!"

Henry scoffed, "None of that is true. Well.. she is younger. No offense, Babe."

"This girl is WAY more your type than Charlotte."

"I don't have a "type" and Charlotte clearly is within my type, if I do have one, otherwise why would she be my girlfriend?"

Captain Man told Babe, "I still think it might be an elaborate hoax. So, if you really want Charlotte, time will reveal if that's possible for you." He patted her hand. "Now, get out of my Man Cave. I'm off the clock." Babe got up,not the least bit comforted as Ray stole Henry's second plate of churros and walked off.

Henry rolled his eyes and offered, "I'll take you somewhere for breakfast. Maybe to meet up with the clique."

They were quiet on the way. Henry thought he'd be happy to see her shut up, but now he was worried that Char had crushed the poor girl. “So… You know where your friends are? I can escort you to ‘em.”

She smiled and nodded, “That would be very kind of you.” Then, more silence. They started walking in the direction of where her friends had gone for breakfast and she wondered, “Why doesn’t it say on any of your social media that you’re in a relationship?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “We’re not that flashy with our personal business. I guess with the whole secret identity thing, I’ve kinda gotten pretty used to just keeping my business to myself, and Char’s always been a private person.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you tell me? We’ve talked a lot, online, over the phone, and since I’ve been in town. Never once did you even suggest that you were dating somebody.” He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m glad that this amuses you.”

“I’m amused that I’m being interrogated for something that you’re not entitled to knowing, yes. I didn’t tell you, because I saw no reason to. We chat sometimes about video games. We’ve talked on the phone a limited number of times about very generic things. I don’t owe you my life events.”

“Maybe not, but I think that you know that I liked you and it could have been polite for you to say, “By the way, I have a girlfriend now.” How did this even happen? She’s very uptight and boring, and honestly it seems like Captain Man agrees with me that you could do better…” Henry stopped walking and glared at her. She giggled a little and tried to clean it up, “I just mean that the two of you don’t seem to fit together.”

“Okay, maybe we don’t seem to fit together, to a complete stranger. The good news for me is that you don’t have to understand it. The bad news for you is that you don’t have the right to say anything negative about her. If she’s uptight and boring, then that must be what I want, and I never asked you your opinion, anyway. So, yeah, no. It’s not happening. You’ll not be talking like that about her in front of me. You better call Kenzie with that BS.” He started walking again, more than a little pissed off and she quickly followed, apologizing for her words. He barely heard her. Once she was at the diner with her friends, Henry was going to leave, but Charlotte happened to be there with them. She had her gym bag and was dressed for a workout, glistening from her run and laughing with the others. So, he came inside.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he wondered.

She pointed to the group, “I ran into them after my run and Trip treated me to a latte.”

Henry chuckled, “Moving in on my woman, Trip?”

Trip brushed dust off of his shoulders and said, “Technically, that’s my ex-fake-fiancee, so you moved in on mine.” Babe sat down and grabbed a menu, silently. “What about you? Stepping out behind her back with Babe?” Babe kicked Trip under the table and he let out a loud, “Ow!”

“No, she got kicked out of the,” he looked around and whispered, “That cave, you know… I felt bad and brought her to you all.”

Charlotte looked at him, wondering what he wasn’t saying, but this wasn’t the time. Instead, she announced, “It was pretty good having the time to chat with everyone without all of the mindless flirting, but now, I think I’ll take my leave. Maybe I’ll see you later, guys.”

As she headed out Henry said, “Try not to stay out too late,” then chased his girlfriend down. “Char, wait up.” She paused as he called from the door and whenever he reached her, he took her hand, gave her a kiss and started walking with her. She smiled at the Game Shakers yet again, all watching them from their table. Babe was pretending not to with her face in the menu. “So… are we into PDA now, or only when Babe is nearby?”

She sighed and leaned against him, “I don’t know. I’m not sure what came over me, but she just KEPT ON FLIRTING and flinging herself at you and completely disregarding me as a person. Last night, she called me Charpay!”

He gasped, “Like the little dog?”

“I was thinking like the Disney character, but either way, learn my name if you’re going to try to compete with me for my man.”

“There’s no competition,” Henry told her. “And, I think she got your message, loud and clear. Though, she asked me why I didn’t tell her. Like… You’re a 14 year old girl who I have only ever casually spoken with about shared interests, meaning specifically videogames and dog videos. Why would I tell her anything?”

“Maybe she thought that you were leaving the door open for her behavior, and honestly, can you blame her?” He stopped and let go of her hand. She folded her arms and tilted her head, “What? You don’t think that you should’ve nipped it in the bud? Because, I happen to think that if Hudson or Trip was acting that way around me and I didn’t clarify on the spot that it wasn’t going down, you’d be pouting about it.”

“I mean, yeah, but that’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s in your personality to do that. I hate having to say mean things to people, even if it might be true. I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings.”

“Oh, so I like to hurt people’s feelings?” He sighed and shook his head. “Tell me what you mean.”

“You stand up for things more than me. I’d rather just take it easy and let things fizzle out. You like to have conversations about stuff and try to control the direction of things.”

“Never thought being a mature person with good communication skills could be seen as a negative trait, but go off, I guess.”

“I’m not saying it’s negative! I’m saying that’s you, but it isn’t me, so don’t expect it to be me.”

“And I’m saying that I didn’t appreciate you letting that girl think she had a chance with you by not getting her together when she was flirting with you right in front of me!” She squealed, then marched off.

Henry whispered, “How the heck did we go from kissing to fussing?” He followed her, calling her name, but she didn’t slow down. She made him catch up to her. “Hey! I didn’t know that it was bothering you like that. I thought it was only inconveniencing me and that after this weekend, it was gonna be over and done with. If I had known that it hurt you, of course I would have stood up for you. I just… Never think that you’re thinking like that, about me. I always just presume that nothing bothers you, and you don’t care about trivial things.”

“I almost got attacked by a lion to avoid an awkward kiss with my best friend. I’m not as together and you keep painting me!” They both laughed, and then hugged, and then kissed. “I’m an actual disaster, sometimes. And I didn’t like seeing her fawn over you. I didn’t like the flirting. I didn’t like you not correcting her behavior.”

“Thank you for waiting until we were alone to say that. It means a lot that you didn’t blast me in front of anybody. I won’t let anything like that happen again.” She smiled. “You’ll be proud to know,” he bragged, as they continued walking, “That I happened to have to tell her a thing or two for trying to call you some names.”

“What?”

“She said you’re uptight and boring! Can you believe that? Now, I’ll tolerate those very rude but accurate words from Ray, but not from her!” Charlotte scoffed and looked at the sky, shaking her head.

#So I Had a Dream #So I Hate to Burst Your Bubble #Henry Danger #Game Shakers #hd fanfic

33 notes · View notes

screamxqueenx94 · 7 years ago

Text

Your Song// X-MEN (Part 4)

I find inspiration everywhere. No lie, usually with music. So this is inspired by Your Song by Rita Ora. I thought it would be cute so I’m doing it :) btw, this is a contiuation of She’s Been Enrolled. It’s about four months later. Enjoy :)

Alex Summers x OC (Layla Hemmings)

Warnings: SO MUCH CUTENESS!!! fluff

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

It’s been about four months since Layla had been enrolled to Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters. She had made a few friends in the school, but her strongest relationship was with Alex Summers. The boy she brought back to life and who had asked her out. She had helped him catch up on what he had missed since he was gone. She also reunited him with his family. They always spent their free time together since they had become official three months ago. They wanted to take things slow since this was her first relationship and he was getting use to being alive again. Today they were going to spend some time together and have a lazy day, which neither of them ever really got since he was back in training to be on the team again and Layla was usually working on finding the true limit to her powers.

It was a warm sunny day when Layla got up. She got out of bed and turned on the radio as she was getting ready for the day like she usually did. After she put on a tank top and started looking for what to wear, the radio personnel came on.

“Good morning Westchester County! Today is a beautiful sunny day here and I’m in the mood to play some happy music to go along with this gorgeous weather we’re having! This one goes to all of you who feel as happy as I do this morning. This Rita Ora’s Your Song!”

Layla started jumping up and down with utter joy. She loves this song and even though Alex would never admit it, he liked it too. She grabbed her hair brush and started dancing around and singing into the brush like a microphone.

“….Last night we were way up, kissing in the back of the cab. And then you say, ‘Love, baby, let’s go back to my flat’. And when we wake up, never had a feeling like that…..” she danced in front of her mirror, flipping her ginger hair around, then goes and starts dancing and jumping on her bed.

“….I don’t want to hear sad songs anymore, I only wanna hear love songs! I found my heart up in this place tonight!” She jumped off the bed and spun in circles, giving the song her all.

“….Don’t wanna sing mad songs anymore! Only wanna sing your song! ‘Cause your song’s got me feeling like…” she goes to the middle of her room and jumps around in a circle, flipping her hair around once again.

“I’m in love! I’m in love! I’m in love! Yeah you know your song’s got me feeling like I’m…” she finally turns and faces the door then suddenly stops.

Alex was right there. Leaning against the door frame. One hand on the door knob and the other trying to help him hold in his giggles. Layla’s cheeks turn bright red as she tries to hide her face.

“Alex! H–how long have you been standing there?” She asks nervously, hiding the hairbrush behind her back.

“Long enough to know that you still jump on your bed like a little kid.” He smirks.

She put her head down, still trying to hide her face in embarrassment. He walks over to her and hugs her tightly, then looks at her.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s adorable!” He tells her sweetly.

She looked up at him, still blushing and feeling so tiny in his arms. She gives him a small smile. He let’s go and tucks some of her hair behind her ear and just smiles adoringly at her. They stay that way for awhile until she realizes that she was still half naked.

“Um, Alex? Do you mind if I finish getting dressed?” She asks shyly.

He looks down at her half dressed body and instantly turns red. He quickly turns around and rubs the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeah, of course! I–I’ll just wait for you downstairs….” He trails off nervously.

He walks hastily out of the room, still looking down and nearly running into the door way. Layla quickly put on a lacy off the shoulder crop top and high waisted velvet bell bottoms and heads downstairs to where Alex is. As Layla came down the stairs, Alex turned and looked at her as she came down the stairs. When he sees her, his eyes light up and flashes her his adorable crooked smile. She blushes and smiles back. He takes her hand and they head out the front door and borrow a car from Charles.

——————————————————————————

They spent the entire day at Glen Island Beach. They orginally went just to collect seashells and get fresh air, but they stayed for the sand and the ocean, which made Layla feel relieved that she put her two piece bathing suit on under her clothes. Layla always loved the beach, but now she had someone to enjoy it with and it made her feel like she was on cloud nine. It also didn’t hurt that Alex sunbathed next to her shirtless.

As usual, Layla brought one of her many sketchbooks. He laid out in the sun while she sat up and used her knees as a table for her sketchbook. He looked up to see what she was doing. He noticed she was drawing a picture of a mother and her baby playing in the water, reminding her of her and her mother.

“That’s beautiful.” he tells her, sitting up and half smiling.

She looks over at him and softly chuckles. “Thanks. I’m drawing it for my mom. This was always one of our favorite things to do when I was a kid.” she told him reminising about her mom.

“You miss her, huh?” he asked, putting his hand comfortingly on her back.

“A little. It gets a little easier each day… I mean, at least I still get to talk to her, y’know?” she replies quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah I know what you mean.” he says, laying back, supporting himself on his elbows.

Layla goes back to drawing, until the mother and baby leave, but Layla keeps adding small details. Alex sits up again and looks over her shoulder. He smirks and taps her opposite shoulder, making her look that way when he quickly takes her small sketchbook with a playful look on his face and she whips her head around to see him. She starts laughing and trying to get it back. Before she can grab the book, he wraps his arm around her waist and rolls over to be on top.

He’s surprised when she uses most of her strength to end up back on top. The laughter fades out when they make eye contact. He looks deep into her forest green eyes and she into his baby blue ones. Layla bites her lip. He tucks her hair behind her ear and gives her a half smile. After a few moments, like a magnet, their lips meet each other in a sweet, romantic kiss. She cups his face in her hands as his arms wrap tightly around her waist.

They’re embraced in the kiss for awhile. Once they pull away, they notice an elderly couple looking over in admiration. They lift their drinks to Alex and Layla and the two of them wave nervously to the elderly couple. They look at each other blushing from slight embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed sweeties. We were there once too at your age.” The cute little old woman told them sweetly.

“Wait until you get to be our age. Even though you won’t look the same, you’re love will still make you feel like you’re youngsters.” her husband chimes in.

Layla just smiled and chuckled at their words, feeling less embarrassed.

“Just you wait, this will be a story you’ll tell your grandkids one day and it’ll make them believe in love.” the old lady continued as she held her husband’s hand as they looked lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Layla and Alex can’t help but look into each others’ eyes the same way. They’re fingers intertwine and Alex kisses her hand sweetly. The elderly couple pack up their things.

The elderly man leans in to talk to Alex. “You keep a hold of her, Sonny. She’s a real keeper.” He tips his fedora to them and walks hand in hand with his wife as they carry their lawn chairs and cooler. Alex and Layla look back at each other again. He leans back on his elbows while she still straddles his lap.

“How crazy would it be if that WAS us in 40 to 50 years?” he asks nonchantly, smirking.

Layla giggles. “They were so cute!” she exclaimed.

“I’m serious.” he says while chuckling.

Layla giggles again. “Well, if we’re anything like them, then I’d say we’re two very lucky people.” she tells him.

They stay in that same position, looking into each others’ eyes once again. Then Layla gets up and grabs Alex’s hand pulls him to his feet.

“One more dip in the ocean before we go back to the mansion?” she asks, smiling.

“I’ll race ya.” he replies.

They race to the water, with Layla ahead by just a little bit until Alex grabs her by her waist, spins her around and carries her to the water with him. They splash each other and play around until the sun started to set. They trudged out of the water and got ready to go. They walked hand in hand back to the car. Alex loaded up the trunk as Layla admired the view of the setting sun.

He walked up next to her and they sat on the hood of the car as they watched the sun set. She put her head on his shoulder and sighed to show she was relaxed. He looked down at her, half smiled and put his arm around her, pulling her closer and kissed the top of her head before looking back to the sunset view. After the sun had set and it got dark, they went back to the mansion.

——————————————————————————

Once they got back to the mansion, Alex walked Layla back to her room. Before she went in, she turned to him and half smiled.

“I had an amazing time with you today, Alex.” she said shyly.

“Me too.” he replied back, taking her hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked sweetly.

“Of course.” he tells her with a half smile.

He brings her hand to lips and kisses it, making her blush. Once he let go, she kisses his cheek and goes to her room. He walks back to his room, still smiling.

After that day, they both knew it was love. Now only time will tell on who says ‘I love you’ first. maybe it will be Alex, or maybe it will be Layla. All they know is how they feel about each other and those feelings are strong.

#lucas till #alex summers #oc #oc story #xmen #xmen imagine #charles xavier #hope you like it

22 notes · View notes

amorningshadeofyellow-blog · 7 years ago

Text

What Time Is It? (A Day in the Life with Intrusive Thought OCD)

The last week or two has far surpassed the brim, overflowing with stress and wonder, lack of this, lack of that, thinking, thinking, thinking. Since coming back from Tulane, I think I’ve managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel a little less elegantly. It’s been an unexplainable place, surrounded by an unexplainable feeling, but the least I can do is try. Explaining my OCD is not something I do to make you feel bad for me, not something that I do to gain pity points. It’s embarrassing. I was one of the smartest girls around; I still am. Where does it make sense to be consumed- literally consumed- in thoughts that are so infantile, so small, so stupid and pointless? It doesn’t, but this is my attempt to explain the mental process and impact my OCD has made.

There are a handful of types of OCD. Most people associate OCD with cleaning, organizing, scrubbing your hands 18 times in an hour or flipping a light switch 6 times. There was a YouTube video of a guy who was performing some sort of spoken poetry about his OCD and the girl he loved. I always thought about that. With the little research I’ve done, I’ve found that the basic types are as follows: those who clean, those who organize, those who check, those who hoard, and those with intrusive thoughts- the obsessives. Obviously, my case is the latter. In slight description, the cleaners are the ones who scrub hands and surfaces, afraid of germs and contamination. The organizers are fixated on symmetry, things being centered and equally, those who organize their desks so precisely that if a pen moves two centimeters- they know. The checkers are those who check door locks, light switches, stove tops- often so obsessed with the idea that there will be a fire, a break in, something fo the sorts. The hoarders are obvious without description. Then, there are those of us that suffer from intrusive thoughts. My kind. Those who will be having a normal day, walking the halls to class or driving along the road, and suddenly an unwarranted and unwanted thought presents itself. This begins an obsessive-compulsive cycle, and it’s where I’ve struggled for many years. Where you’re able to see the compulsion- the cleaning, hoarding, flipping light switches and organizing desks, mine is far harder to detect. My compulsion- the relief- it comes in many forms. I need far more reassurance than the average human solely because I’ve depleted my ego and don’t think highly enough of myself to take my own word. It’s hard to make people understand it because we all worry. Where I differ is that my worry is an all consuming part of my day. Not every day. Some days, I don’t worry so much. Some days, when there’s no stressors and I feel the sun on my face and am confident in my body and mind- I do alright. Others, I quite literally think I’m the worlds most embarrassingly psychotic human being. So, I’m still learning. The compulsion aspect of my disorder still confuses me. The routines I go through to relieve the anxiety isn’t always the same, but there’s a compulsion. The thirty texts, the drinking, the sudden stopping myself from eating or sleeping, the texts, the texts, the endless flow of words that keep coming, the apologies on top of apologies. It doesn’t really make sense to me, and I guess that’s because I still think of the man switching the light off and on.

To further indulge in the intensity and persistent nature of these thoughts- I want to explain how a day may work for me. I wake up. What time is it? 7:45. So, I should leave by 8:35 at the least because getting my bags out of my car and parking, locking the doors and situating my things so I can grab my coffee from my console will take probably four minutes, three or four to walk to class. I’m doing my makeup. My eyebrow hair grows so strangely. I should pluck these, but is it going too look too sparse right here? I think they’re too dark, but I don’t have time to really go back and change it. If I waste the product more I’ll have to buy another brow pencil by the end of April. They’re twenty-one dollars. I have three-hundred and six dollars in my bank account, but less than a fourth a tank of gas. However, I go to San Diego Monday, so I only need gas to go to Jackson for classes these next two days and then Saturday to clean the office. I should fill up before I go to San Diego in case I spend too much there. It takes thirty dollars to fill up my car. My seventy dollar car insurance already came out of my account, but I still need to pay those medical bills. Shit, my medical bills. I’m sure at least one has gone to collection. Is my credit going to be terrible now? How do I fix that? I should ask my mom. I hope my credit isn’t bad. three hundred and six minus thirty is two hundred and seventy six. That should be fine. Maybe I can afford another brow pencil. God, what time is it? 8:06.

I feel my window to see how cold it is outside. Probably 60 degrees. I’ll wear a skirt and crop top. I think I’ve gained weight. I’ve been eating less. Did I? I shouldn’t weigh myself. If I weigh myself I’ll be upset all day long if I have gained weight. I didn’t eat that much yesterday. Maybe it’s lower. I weigh myself. I’m .2 pounds less than I was yesterday. That’s fine. Okay. I’m just over thinking it. I think my hips are too noticeably big. My hair is too dead on the ends, too, but I should wait to get it trimmed. Would bangs look cool? My face is too round. What if they make my face look fatter? I’m straightening my hair. I need to buy a hair mask or a heat protectant. This is probably why my hair is dead. I could leave it natural more, but I look less put together- more messy. Did I have a quiz today? No, I don’t think so. I think that’s next Thursday. My grades. Fuck, my grades are probably terrible. I wonder how much extra credit I’d have to do. Is Tulane going to accept my credits? What if I just wasted three thousand dollars at Union? 8:28. I should brush my teeth. I should put my pajama tshirt back on in case I get tooth paste on my top. God, my car is so nasty on the inside. If I have lunch with mom today, maybe I’ll just eat a salad or smoothie for dinner. I don’t want to be bloated before San Diego. I have pictures to take. What if I miss my connecting flight? I wonder what they do. Can I bring a razor in my checked bag? I don’t want to buy $20 razors there to shave my legs.

I grab a water bottle and get into my car. Oh, I have less gas than I thought. I check it constantly as I drive. I drive past my ex boyfriend’s house on my way to pick up a friend for breakfast before class. He’s home? He’s never home on Mondays. Is he okay? Is his brother sick? Did something happen with his car? Does he need a ride? Is he mad? Did I say something this week that put him into a rut and now he’s depressed and can’t leave bed? I should text him. There are already ten texts sent from me from our discussion yesterday. Am I being too annoying? I bet he’s annoyed. Why do we even still talk every day? Did he ignore those on purpose? I think he read this one sentence as rude. I didn’t mean to be rude. God, I look like such a bitch. Maybe I should apologize. I’ll apologize. I text and explain that I drove by to get a friend in his neighborhood. Are you okay? Is your brother? Just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. I go to breakfast. Panera is out of espresso, so I can’t get coffee. What if I get tired today? I slept eleven hours last night; I should be fine. I slept eleven hours. That’s too many. Am I getting depresses again? No, I think I feel fine. I feel happy. Yeah, I think I’m good. Okay. Should I eat a bagel? That’s too many carbs. You’ll be able to tell in this skirt. I go to class. He hasn’t texted, but he isn’t awake this early. Lauren hasn’t texted either. It’s been over a whole day. Did she get back to school safe? Is she that busy? Why aren’t I ever that busy? How come other people are so busy and never near their phones, but I’m never busy. Should I be studying more? I don’t have the money to go out. Where are all of my friends? I should go back to Tulane. My friends are there. I don’t want to get depressed again though. Maybe it’ll be better on meds. I had fun last weekend. I’m excited to go back in April.

I sit in my lecture. Is it noticeable that I’m writing in my journal? What if he calls me out? I’m going to at least listen to the verse in case he calls on me to read. What if I pronounce a name or city wrong from the bible? That would be so embarrassing. Is anyone else here secretly not religious? Probably the girl in the Frank Ocean shirt. What time is it? twenty two minutes until I’m out. I’m not hungry. I have an hour and a half until my next class. Should I write? What if I don’t have time to finish it and get uninspired? I shouldn’t spend money. Where is that coffee shop on campus? No, spending money is bad. I need to save for car insurance. I may buy those concert tickets if I don’t spend a ton in California. The lecture is over. I walk to my car. It’s way colder than I thought it would be. These people are shivering. I either look stupid or incredibly warm blooded. People totally think I look stupid in this outfit. I drive around. I’m wasting gas. I should just go sit in the parking lot at school. He texted. Everything is okay, he just has plans on another day so he’s working today. I text to see if I can bring a record by and drop it of since he’d like it. He says he wishes I wouldn’t. Is it personal? Is it me? What did I do, was it phrased wrong? Does he think I’m being too serious? Is he tired of me? He’s probably tired of me. I’m going to Pet Smart. I go and look at the hamsters and how sweet and small they are. I smile at them and watch them run around and play for probably ten or fifteen minutes. I want a hamster. No, I’d be too lazy to clean the cage. They are so sweet, though. How long have they been in there? Probably too long. That’s so sad. Peppermint oil. That calms me down. I feel like I’m going to have an anxiety attack. Why do I feel like this? I think I’m going to cry. I text again: Are you mad at me? Can we talk about some things? I know I said a lot yesterday, I’m sorry. Can I just say some really simple things and you can tell me what you think? Did I say something wrong yesterday? Are you sure everything’s okay? I know I’m worrying like I said I wouldn’t, but I need to start off on a good foot to stick to it. I don’t know what I’m even saying. I’m being annoying and pissing you off. I know there are way too many texts on my side and I feel so stupid. Can you please just find time to tell me if things are okay?

I text over ten times, probably twenty. From 11;15 until he texts back around 3 something. I’m at the oil change center. Where do I go? I look so stupid. I have no clue where to go. The lobby of this place is full. I have to sit at the kid table. Everyone in here is old so they probably do think I’m a kid. It’s so gross outside, I hope it doesn’t make me sad. I should take my anti-depressants. It’s past noon, maybe I shouldn’t. It will keep me up. It’s so strange to me how tired I can be and then as soon as something bothers me, I’m awake for the next four hours. You’d think I’d be a normal fucking person for once in my life, but no. God, I look so annoying. I understand why I got broken up with now. It’s so cold in here. Do I have homework? I think that worksheet was for later this week. I should check when the next assignment is due. He’s typing, I’m anxious. Those thirty seconds are completely pit-of-your-stomach. What if he says something mean and I cry in this lobby? I should go to the bathroom in case. They called my name. My car is done. I sign paperwork. I go to my car and drive home. He tells me he knows to ignore what I said earlier- I’d been like this every day for the last ten days. I’m too stressed. It’s too obvious. Why do things hurt my feelings so easily? I’m driving. I tell him I’m driving and I’ll ask the two questions he told me he’d answer when I get home. So, I type out a condensed version of what I’d said yesterday- asking for patience and forgiveness when I know that’s stupid- when I know he understands and is willing to joke around and act like I’m not a freak. He’s too kind. I know he was overly kind to me in New Orleans because he wanted me to feel emotionally strong. He knew it would be a rough weekend. Lauren texted. She’s alive. We talk. I don’t have time to explain why I’m anxious- I don’t really know why. She sends me a meme. My phone is going to die. I come off of all of my worry after the talk I have about my worry and how he reassures me that I have nothing to worry about- I’m not being forgotten, I’m not hated. He’s far too funny for me. Does my senes of humor seem too immature? Does he even get this joke? The song playing right now is sad, I hope it doesn’t impact my mood.

I’m at home on my bed. I tried on my bikini again before I go to San Diego. It looks so much worse on me now. Is it because I’ve gained weight? No, I weighed myself this morning and hadn’t gained weight. Maybe, I’m bloated. I just drank a lot of water. I wanted to take pictures in this, but I’m not going to now. How many days- today is.. Wednesday. Tomorrow I have New Testament early in the morning. Then, I have gym. I don’t think I’ll go. I always look so stupid in there. She tried to make us play volleyball last week- can you believe that? There are like ten people in that class and none of us know one another. It’s so awkward. I always feel so awkward. I hate working out in front of people. I think I’ve eaten too much today. I had coffee this morning, a kind bar, then I ate some edamame and grain crackers. I had a small bowl of tomato soup and a piece of toast with it for lunch. I think I’ll skip dinner. I’ll drink more water and maybe it’ll flush everything out. I should drink this last beer today so I can have the next four or five days to not drink anything except water. Why is my chin so itchy? Oh, he texted again. Bangs? He thinks I should get bangs? I’d look terrible with bangs. My face is too round. Yeah, just looked at myself in the mirror, and I definitely see a double chin. I don’t think they’d look good on me. That one girl in high school had incredible bangs. Would he still think I was pretty if i got them? What if they make him think otherwise and then he doesn’t like anything about me? Maybe I should do it. Change is good. My ends are dead though so I’ll just start with a trim. Dinner. I shouldn’t eat dinner. If I do, I should do like a banana or something.

My skin itches. Is it just because it’s hot in here? No. No, why is my neck so itchy? Moisturizers break me out. Do I want to break out or relieve this? I could leave it alone. Where is my peppermint oil? I look crazy typing this. I won’t post it. It can stay in my notes for a long time. Honestly, I think a whopping three people read this. If you put that, you’ll look like you underestimate and are fishing for compliments. What do I type next? How do I transition back to something else? It looks too choppy. What if people actually think I’m a really shitty writer and just pity me because I have so much fun with it? I think some things are okay. Some things. I should write more. I know he won’t text back; he’s busy. Should I text just to tell him the good news? Does it look like I’m lying to get his attention? It’s just good news. It’s just something I’m happy about. I don’t think he cares, but maybe he just finds it nice to see me excited about things. I think I’ll tell him, yeah, this text is too long though. What words can I take out to make it look shorter. That sentence is pointless- too explanative. Back space back space back space. Posture. Sit up straight. This is why my spine looks so weird. I need to stop hunching my shoulders over. Jesus, I hope my mom doesn’t check my checking account. I spent so much pointless money last week. I feel so guilty. Maybe I can return it. I don’t think so. I’ll keep it. The jewelry is cute. Yeah, at least I have some for the pictures I take in San Diego. I’m so excited. I need to download my music so it’ll play. I should watch a movie today too. God, I need to go to the theater and watch some stuff this week. I may do that tomorrow to pass time.I hope he doesn’t think I’ve showed up for him. I just want to come see some movies. Im behind. I saw Red Sparrow a few weeks back. It was good. Tulane housing emailed me. They want to call me tomorrow. I think they just want to clarify my situation, but if they tell me I’ll be in freshman housing I think I’ll cry. How do they even do that? There isn’t enough for everybody. I want to live in Paterson. I’d have a balcony and be close to everything. My friends would be closer too. What if they put me in JL? Oh, my god. I think I’d actually drop out. What if I get depressed again? I can’t even walk past my old dorm without feeling gutted. Too much happened there. Too much happened. I suddenly feel so sad. I remember being there and looking in my old window and seeing another girl live there. It was like that was the only part of campus that I never existed in. I felt wanted everywhere else. I think I was wanted at least. It felt good. I wonder if people would actually come visit me. I would love that.I’d get to show people the city. I just hope I don’t get sick again. I’ll be on probation when I first come back, and I just think maybe my classes will be too difficult to handle. If I slip, what if they kick me out? Just because my grade wasn’t good? What if they give me like math or science when I first come back? I’d fail and they’d kick me out because I’m supposed to be doing way better than just average. What if I gain weight? Bruff was so gross. I don’t want to go back and gain weight. I’ll have to start going to the gym. I do miss their gym. I’d just need workout clothes. Sometimes when I get too hot and workout without eating, I wind up passing out. I need to stop doing that. I need to take my vitamins.T That’s why my hair is dead. I haven’t been taking them.

I should go to sleep. I should sleep. It’s 9 pm. Where is my birth control? There. There. I need to refill this tomorrow. I’ll refill it on my way home. Wait, I was going to go to the theater. I’ll do it Friday. I have the pill for tomorrow. So I can do it Friday before they close. Would bangs actually look good? I’m going to turn on a show. I think I’ll have a nightmare if I watch this one, so I’m going to skip it. All of these look interesting, I just can’t sit through anything that has bad acting and they all look terribly acted. I should write a screenplay. I could be an actress. I hated The Ritual. It gave me a nightmare from hell. I should take another shower. I need to throw up. I think I’ve eaten too much. If i gained half a pound, I think it’ll ruin my day tomorrow. Yeah, my mood won’t be good. I’m going to ruin my teeth. I need to make sure I take care of my teeth. I’ll double brush and double floss. That will be okay. I’ll call my dentist in the morning. Why hasn’t anyone texted me back? Did mine send? Yes. They sent. Stop texting. You look so bored and pathetic. Sleep. Go to sleep. I think he hates me again. I think I said something wrong. What time is it?

1 note · View note

docholligay · 7 years ago

Note

Haruka and Usagi, you're the sweetest cherry in an apple pie.

OBVIOUSLY I’M DOING A SHIT JOB WRITING TODAY BUT I AM TRYING, and in fairness to me I’m intentionally picking tougher stuff to challenge myself. This is all Usagi being a beacon of love and light in a way I can theoretically live with, all for you you loser gumdrop muffin, 1,400 words and you owe me a drink.

Haruka had a great many insecurities, most of which she denied vehemently as her cheeks grew red and she felt a twisting in her belly, but most of these fell to her intellect, or her class, or if they did somehow invoke her appearance, it had more to do with her tendency toward scrawniness than her general presentation.

But there were nights, and moments, from time to time, where she wished she were not quite so very her, living between worlds, it seemed, not given to femininity but not longing to be a man either, the world desperately wanting her to to give in to either. Michiru liked her very much, just as she was, and Haruka believed her on that score, and it provided a bit of a shield from the way the rest of the world regarded her as something not quite right, from the idea that if she could have been a princess, or just been a man, her mother might have loved her, school might have been easy, and all things might have aligned in her favor.

Tonight was, nearly inexplicably, one of those moments, and one of those nights. Normally she felt so handsome and comfortable in the suit jacket Michiru had given her so long ago, the one she teased her for keeping from early in their courtship, neat grey cashmere lined in teal silk, a touch Haruka only realized years later was a mark of ownership. It felt nice to be wanted so badly.

But perhaps she’d simply had too much to drink, and had tipped over into the morose end of her own personal feelings pool. Perhaps it was being out with all of the Senshi, of seeing them lined up as perfect versions of the kinds of girl the world would accept and love, and realizing that she was the one who garnered the stares, sticking out like the sore thumb she was. Perhaps it was hearing all the whispers of why a girl like her even existed–trauma, wanting attention, too scared to be anything else, needing to be some half-man to Michiru.

Perhaps it was all of it, and her, too.

When Michiru had been entangled with Rei’s dissertation on the nature of lawncare as regards the wealthy, Haruka had snuck away, taking her cocktail with the little cherries at the bottom and looking off into the small garden off the patio, closed now for the winter. Haruka wasn’t sure if she could barely feel the cold because of the liquor, her silk undershirt, or because she didn’t care, but it hardly mattered.

She took a deep drink of her cocktail and swayed a little on her feet. Okay, so it was definitely because of the liquor.

She gave a heavy sigh, felt at the loose cigarette tucked into her jacket pocket, and stared off into the night, the snowflakes bright against the dark.

“Haruka!” There was a graceless rustle through the snow behind her, and a high, sugar-sweet chirp that in no way could have belonged to her wife, but still she released the cigarette, “Haruka, there you are!”

Haruka looked behind her to see Usagi, in her bright pink dress with the sequined doughnuts on it, shivering in the snow.

“You should go inside.” She nodded back to the door. “The other girls will miss you.”

Haruka had not expected anyone to come for her, in the mood she was in, and if she had, it would have been Michiru, generally, or maybe Mina, if she managed to stop being the center of attention long enough to notice. Her guess would never have been on Usagi, too consumed with cake and drinks and the matter of it being Mako’s birthday in the first place.

“Okay!” She nodded and took Haruka’s hand, “Come on!”

Haruka barely resisted, but it was enough against Usagi, who slipped in the snow, Haruka narrowly catching her arm and steadying her.

“You go on. I’m just taking a break.”

Usagi looked at her a moment with grave concern. “Haruka, are you sad?”

It was such a deftly asked question that if Michiru had asked it, Haruka would have assumed she knew precisely what she was doing, asking a question that would require a direct lie to deny. It was easy to say she was okay, she was in no danger, and the mood of the evening would pass, as it always did, and would not rear its head for a solid quarter of the year, if history was any indication.

So okay wasn’t a lie, but to say she wasn’t sad would be. And it wasn’t that Haruka objected to lying in general, so much as lying to Usagi about something that didn’t involve her trying to get the earth killed.

She lied enough to Usagi for that reason.

“Go on inside, kitten.” Was all she managed.

Usagi wrapped her arms tightly around Haruka, nearly knocking the two of them into a snowdrift with her fierce and clumsy affection.

“No!” She looked up at Haruka from where her arms hugged around her ribcage, eyes already beginning to mist with tears. “You’re upset! Is it Seiya? I–”

Haruka looked up at the sky, snowflakes falling on her eyelashes. “God, I wish I could blame Seiya for this. Usagi,” she gently peeled her away.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me!” She put her hands on her hips. “Did you and Ami fight? Ami doesn’t mean–”

Ami means exactly everything she ever says to me, but not this time. “No, Usagi,” she looked at Usagi’s face of lip-wobbling determination, and slipped the jacket off her shoulders, “Here. Don’t freeze.”

Usagi drew it across her body gratefully. “You’re so gentlemanly!”

Haruka huffed a weak laugh. “I know.”

“Oh Haruka, did I hurt your feelings?!” Usagi whirled in front of her and grabbed her hand, “You’re very beautiful too, you know! Michiru always says you’re handsome, so I thought you liked it, though I guess she also says lovely, and maybe handsome is only okay for her, some of the words she uses I’ve never really heard before, but whatever you like–”

Haruka shook her head. “Usagi, i’m just hurting my own feelings today. It’s not you. Nobody really know how to treat me.” She finished the cocktail and set the empty glass down on a pillar. “Not the right kind of girl, not the right kind of anything.”

Usagi puzzled for a moment, dropping her hand and drawing the jacket tighter over her against the cold. “What do you mean, Haruka?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, “I’m just different. If it bothered me enough, I’d just wear a damn dress or something instead of feeling sorry for myself.”

“But I like the way you are! I like that you’re different! I don’t have a friend like you. Besides,” She she shook her head, the glitter bows at her odango catching the light, “I really can’t see Michiru with any other kind of person. That’d be weird! She likes girls like you.”

“And what am I like, exactly?”

“You’re like a cherry in an apple pie! I didn’t expect you to be there, “but she leaned forward at Haruka and grinned, “You made it much more interesting, and sweeter, too!”

There was nothing of cleverness in Usagi, no hidden agenda, no smokescreen–she simply liked Haruka for what she was, an inexplicable girl in a suit, and it didn’t much matter to her how Haruka had gotten there, she enjoyed her being there.

It was a strange thing, to be liked, and over the years, she had grown more and more used to the idea that perhaps, some of the Senshi actually did like her. That she was likeable.

“We’re missing dessert, Haruka.” Usagi’s voice took on a low, serious tone. “And Rei still had Michiru pinned up in the corner saying something about crops and the boo–boosch–whatever.”

Haruka picked her empty glass up out of the snow, and laughed, drawing her arm around Usagi’s shoulder. “Let’s go save Michiru.”

“Now I want pie.”

“I think we got a Mako a cake, actually.”

Usagi scowled “I didn’t ask what we GOT, Haruka.”

The snow continued to fall over the garden, covering everything in the same blanket of white. But Haruka suddenly remembered people liked it in bloom best, when nothing was the same, and smiled.

Usagi drew her arm around Haruka’s hip, and hugged her tight.

#sm prompt day #shout out to my wife's butch feelings #keyofjetwolf

85 notes · View notes

greezyscumbag · 8 years ago

Text

Inconclusive

Jax x Reader based off the following request:

“Hi! Can you write one where you and Jax recently broke up and one day you see Jax taking Ima to his dorm. You go home, try to move on from him, but Jax finds out, gets jealous and tries to win you back? Thank you!”

—

“This is a bad idea, Chibs.” you warn, pulling at your black lace crop top, a pair of leather shorts showing off your shapely legs. Chibs takes a final drag from his cigarette, dropping it on the floor and putting it out with his boot.

“He misses you, lass, and I can tell you miss him.” You can’t deny his words, these past two weeks being the hardest ones of your life. “You look amazing, sweetheart. If he doesn’t take you home, I sure will.”

Smiling, you gently bump your shoulder with the Scot’s, thanking him silently. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Thatta’ girl. Come on, let’s get you a drink.” Chibs throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you up the lot and into the clubhouse, party in full swing. You smile at the croweaters that catch your eye on the way in, them returning the smile and waving kindly at you.

While Chibs gets you and him a drink, you scan the room, not sure how to feel when you don’t spot your ex boyfriend. Tig grins when he sees you, pushing the lady off his lap and walking over to you, throwing his arms around you. “If it isn’t my favourite girl.”

“Hi, Tiggy. Sorry I haven’t been around, everything is a bit of a mess right now.” you explain, his eyes slightly glassy as he watches you, the smell of whisky lingering heavily on him. You’ve always gotten on well with the other MC members, the older ones and younger ones all treating you like family.

“Don’t sweat it, doll, just glad to see you.” He places a sloppy kiss on your cheek, before going back to his woman of the night, sadness covering you as you realise how much you miss this club. The atmosphere, the people, the family. You knew that if you didn’t get this shit sorted with Jax, you’d probably never have it again.

“Here ya are, love. Get that down ya.” You take the beer from Chibs, taking a few swigs, the cold liquid fizzy as it passes down your throat.

You’re listening to Chibs flirt with some croweater when your gaze is pulled to the other side of the room, Jax entering from the apartments. It’s always been the same with him, a magnetic pull that somehow tells you when he’s around. It’s surreal, but he must feel it too, his eyes instantly breathing you in, surprise evident on his face.

You just stare at him, not knowing how he’s going to react. Is he going to be pissed that you’re here? Glad that you’ve come back for him? Upset?

Your questions are quickly answered, Ima surfacing from the same place Jax did, her hands pulling at her shirt, that famous fucking smirk on her face.

Her arms slip around his waist, him being pulled out of his trance. She leans up, whispering into his ear, his eyes remaining on you the whole time. Your heart feels like it’s literally breaking, regret written all over your ex lovers face as you crumble in front of him. He doesn’t correct it though, letting Ima pull his face to hers, her lips claiming his in a messy fashion.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” you whisper, slamming your half drunken beer on the bar and storming out, leaving a very confused Chibs by himself. He looks across the room as you leave, noticing the very reason for your upset. Shaking his head at his younger brother, he turns his back on him, letting him know just how he feels without even saying a word.

—

It’s been three months since that dreaded day. The day you lost the last shred of hope you had left for your broken relationship, for the broken man you left behind.

“You ready to go, babe?” Liam calls, his voice travelling up the stairs. You had to move on, you deserve to at least try to be happy, even if deep down you know you’re aiming for a unreachable goal.

“Two minutes!” you respond, throwing your phone and lipstick into your bag. You’d met Liam about two months ago, a sweet boy who asked for your number at your work place. You said yes, met up for lunch one day and hit it off, and you’d been dating ever since. Things were pretty serious between the two of you, but throwing yourself in the deep end seems like the quickest way to get rid of the outlaw biker who refuses leave your mind.

Leaving the bedroom, you jog down the stairs, meeting your boyfriend at the bottom. You were about to go to meet some of Liam’s friends, the four of you going on a double date to the new diner in town. If someone would’ve told you a few months back that you’d be going on double dates and spending time with a completely different set of people, you never would’ve believed it.

“I’m just gonna fill up before we go get Tyler and Abby.” Liam turns into the gas station, pulling up at an available pump and stepping out to fill up the car. “You okay to go pay?”

You nod, grabbing the bills from Liam’s hand and undoing your seat belt, heading inside the store. Once you’ve paid for the fuel, you turn around, slamming straight into a hard chest.

“Sorry, love-” You look up, smiling shyly at the man, shock on his face once he realises who you are. “Jesus, (Y/N). If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Chibby.” You reply, letting the Scots man wrap you up in his arms, the familiar feeling making your heart clench. You pull back, your common sense kicking in. “Wait, is he with you?”

Before he can reply, the bell above the shop door signaling that someone has just walked in. You hear his voice before you see his face, a thousand and one emotions running through you. “Tig just called, he’s just been to-”

Jax finally reaches the two of you, his voice dying in his throat as he sees who his brother is standing with. His mouth opens and shuts as he stares at you, completely caught off guard.

“Hey, Jax.” you say calmly, hoping that if you act like you’re unaffected, it’ll convince the two men in front of you, even if you can’t convince yourself. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” He smiles at you, your knees just as weak as they were the day you first caught a glimpse of that smile, the smile that could bring you so much light, even on your darkest of days.

“You alright, (Y/N)?” You scold yourself for forgetting about your company, your boyfriend now making his way over to the three of you in concern. Once he reaches you, he stands by your side, slipping his arm around your waist, claiming his property like some kind of animal.

“Yeah, I’m good.” you respond, part of you wanting to rip Liam’s arm from around you, the expression on Jax’s face one of defeat, heartbreak. The same look you wore just months ago. “Pass my love on to everyone. See you around.”

You leave too quickly to receive a response, your partner trailing behind you, your mental state not feeling up to answering the pile of questions you’re bound to be asked once you get in the car.

You look back at the lost biker in the store, his eyes locked on yours as he watches you walk away from him, again. Only this time, he knows he has to bring you back to him, no matter what it takes.

—

You sigh in content as you sink into the bubbles, music playing lowly in the background as you take a well earned bath.

Today has been a long day, or at least it feels like it has. After bumping into pieces of your past life, the life you were trying to move on from, you had to deal with a relentless Liam, who wanted to know what your connection was to the murderous bikers in town. This then led to the two of you having a full blown argument. You’d jumped out of the car about thirty minutes out of town and refused to get back in, walking all the way back home.

You massage your temples as you soak, silently begging for your head to stop pounding, the pain making you feel physically sick. All you wanted was five minutes of peace from your overactive brain.

You feel like screaming when you hear the door knock loudly from downstairs, closing your eyes and deciding to ignore whatever company had decided to bother you.

After about fifteen seconds, you hear another series of knocks, more urgent this time. Cursing under your breath, you pull yourself out of the soapy water, quickly wrapping a towel around your body and heading downstairs, ready to release your wrath on whoever was behind the door.

Yanking it open, you see the last person you expect to be at your house. “Jax?”

He moves his sights up and down your body, you wishing you would’ve grabbed your dressing gown rather than a towel that barely reaches midthigh. Once he meets you eyes, you raise your eyebrows in question. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” he sighs, running his fingers through his undone locks. “Can I come in? Just give me five minutes. Please.”

Going against your better judgement, you hesitate, pulling the door open widely and letting him step inside. He smiles thankfully at you, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he walks inside.

“What are you doing here, Jackson?” you ask stiffly, wanting the man in front of you to know that you’re not going to take any shit. You’re not the same woman you were three months ago, and he can’t just turn up at your place and expect everything to be okay.

“I miss you, (Y/N).” he confesses, your eyes going as big as saucers as you debate whether you even heard him right. “I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you go, and watching you walk away from me today-”

“Are you serious right now?” You watch as he swallow nervously, enjoying his discomfort. He looks down at the floor, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, like he knew that this was how you’d react.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with me walking away from you when you told me I wasn’t strong enough for this life.“ you spit, all your pent up anger slowly making its way to the surface. “Didn’t care the second time when you humiliated me in front of the club by fucking that whore!”

“Babe, please just let me-” He knows better than to try and make some bullshit excuse, his sentence stopping once he sees the rage on your face.

“It wasn’t me walking away that got to you yesterday,” you seethe, “it was the fact that I’ve moved on. Found somebody beyond the one and only Jax Teller.”

He stand silent, his eyes heavy with unshed tears as you unload the pain and suffering you’ve had to hold in. You shake your head at him in disbelief, chuckling humourlessly. “You let me go, Jax. You broke my heart, and that’s all on you.”

Silent years slip down your cheeks as you hold your towel close to your chest, the fluffy material moving between your fingers and acting as some sort of security blanket, stopping you from completely falling apart.

“I know I don’t deserve you, (Y/N). I know it, hell, everybody knows it.” he says timidly, breaking the tense silence. He sniffs as you look at the floor, your tears falling as you refuse to meet his gaze. “But you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved, the only girl I will ever love, and I hope that means something to you.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you try to hold in your sobs, the ache in his words chipping at your ice cold exterior, bit by bit. His white trainers step into your view, his figure so close you can smell his intoxicating scent. Just one whiff of him makes you want to forget everything and throw yourself in his arms. But that would be naive.

“I pushed you away, because I don’t want to see you end up like everybody else I love. Broken or dead.” He grabs your face in his large, rough hands, the image of him blurry as you try to blink away your tears, clear your view. “But without you, I see no end to this, (Y/N), no reason to carry on, to fight.”

His thumbs gently caress your skin, your body feeling more alive than it has in months. “I know it’s selfish, I’m a selfish man, but you’re the only thing that I’m certain about in this world.”

You feel like the air has been released back into your lungs when he locks his lips with yours, his hands fiercely cradling your face as you come alive under his touch. You’ve never felt something so passionate, so raw , in your life, his tongue slipping past your lips and exploring the place he hasn’t been allowed to go for months.

You’re both breathless as he pulls away, your heart begging you to join your lips back with his and never break apart. He presses his mouth against your forehead lovingly, one of your favourite things that he does, before he begrudgingly let’s you go, moving towards your front door.

“I’ll always love you, (Y/N). You know where to find me if you feel the same.”

—

A/N - Decided to end this on a bit of a cliff hanger/make up your own ending?! Thought it’d let you guys make your own interpretations individually :) hope you liked!! Xx

1K notes · View notes