#Then I almost got evicted and I was given a month to move | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

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a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

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Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

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entropyblog · 1 month ago

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Greenbelt Maryland. Or, how America almost solved housing only to abandon it.

**I AM NOT AN EXPERT! I AM JUST AN ENTHUSIST! DO NOT TREAT MY OPINIONS/SPECULATION AS EDUCATION!**

During the Depression America faced a housing crisis that rhymes with but differs from our own. It’s different in that there wasn’t a supply issue, there were loads of houses in very desirable areas, but they were still unaffordable as people’s incomes collapsed causing a deflationary spiral. While the housing supply subtly grew and succeeded demand, people simply couldn’t pay the meager rents and mortgages. Herbert Hoover failed to manage the Depression, while his inaction is greatly exaggerated, his policy of boosting the economy with works projects and protecting banks from runs failed and the depression only got more pronounced in his term. In comes Franklin Roosevelt, a progressive liberal much like his distant and popular cousin/uncle-in-law Teddy. Franklin’s plan was to create a large safety net for people to be able to be economically viable even if they’re otherwise poor. These reforms are called the New Deal and they did many controversial things like giving disabled and retired people welfare, giving farmers conditioned subsidies to manipulate the price of food, a works program to build/rebuild vital infrastructure, etc. One of these programs was the USHA (a predecessor of America’s HUD), an agency created to build and maintain public housing projects with the goal of creating neighborhoods with artificially affordable rents so people who work low-wage jobs or rely on welfare can be housed.

In this spirit, the agency started experimenting with new and hopefully efficient housing blueprints and layouts. If you ever see very large apartment towers or antiquated brick low-rise townhouses in America, they might be these. The USHA bought land in many large and medium-sized cities to build “house-in-park” style apartments, which is what they sound like. Putting apartment buildings inside green spaces so residents can be surrounded by greenery and ideally peacefully coexist. Three entire towns were built with these ideas outside three medium-sized cities that were hit hard by the depression; Greenbelt outside DC, Greenhills outside Cincinnati, and Greendale outside Milwaukee. The idea was to move people out of these crowded cities into these more sustainable and idyllic towns. There were many catches though, the USHA planned for these towns to be all-white, they used to inspect the houses for cleanliness, they required residents to be employed or on Social Security (which basically meant retired or disabled), they also had an income limit and if your income exceeded that limit you were given a two-month eviction notice, and you were expected to attend town meetings at least monthly. While the towns didn’t have religious requirements they did only build protestant churches. Which is an example of discrimination by omission. While a Catholic, Jew, Muslim, etc could in theory move into town they also couldn’t go to a Catholic church, synagogue, or Islamic center without having to extensively travel. Things planned communities leave out might indicate what kind of people planned communities want to leave out. Basically, the whole thing was an experiment in moving Americans into small direct-democracy suburbs as opposed to the then-current system of crowded cities and isolated farm/mine towns. This type of design wasn’t without precedent, there were famously company towns like Gary and Pullman which both existed outside Chicago. But those lacked the autonomy and democracy some USHA apparatchiks desired.

The green cities were a series of low-rise apartments housing over a hundred people each, they were short walks from a parking lot and roads, and walking paths directly and conveniently led residents to the town center which had amenities and a shopping district. Greenbelt in particular is famous for its art deco shopping complex, basically an early mall where business owners would open stores for the townspeople. These businesses were stuck being small, given the income requirements, but it was encouraged for locals to open a business to prove their entrepreneurial spirit. Because city affairs were elected at town meetings the city was able to pull resources to eventually build their own amenities the USHA didn’t originally plan for like a public swimming pool or better negotiated garbage collection.

These three cities were regarded as a success by the USHA until World War II happened and suddenly they showed flaws given the shift in focus. These towns housed poor people who barely if at all could afford a car, so semi-isolated towns outside the city became redundant and pointless. The USHA also had to keep raising the income requirement since the war saw a spike in well-paying jobs which made the town unsustainable otherwise. During the war and subsequent welfare programs to help veterans, these green cities became de facto retirement and single-mother communities for a few years as most able-bodied men were drafted or volunteered. Eventually, the USDA would make the towns independent, after the war they raised the income limit yet again and slowly the towns repopulated. As cars became more common and suburbanization became a wider trend these towns would be less noticeably burdensome and were eventually interpreted as just three out of hundreds of small suburban towns that grew out of major cities. They were still all-white and the town maintained cleanliness requirements; after all they lived in apartments it just takes one guy’s stink-ass clogged toilet to ruin everyone’s day.

By the 1950’s these towns were fully independent. Greendale and Greenhills voted to privatize their homes and get rid of the income limit all together so the towns can become more normal. Greenhills, Ohio still has many of these USHA-era houses and apartments, all owned by a series of corporations and private owners. Greendale, Wisconsin property owners have demolished most of these old houses and restructured their town government so most traces of its founding are lost. But Greenbelt, Maryland still maintains a lot of its structure to this day. Greenbelt has privatized some land and buildings, but most of the original USHA apartments are owned by the Greenbelt Homes, Inc cooperative which gives residents co-ownership of the building they live in and their payments mostly go to maintenance. Because Greenbelt was collectively owned the House Un-American Activities Committee would blacklist and put on trial most of Greenbelt’s residents and officials. Though they didn’t find much evidence of communist influence, the town was a target of the red scare by the DMV area, residents were discriminated, blacklisted, and pressured into selling their assets. While Greenbelt did commodify some of the town, the still existing co-ownership shows the town’s democratic initiative to maintain its heritage. The green cities desegregated in the 50’s and 60’s depending on state law, Greenbelt was the last to desegregate under the Civil Rights Act of 1964, while discrimination persisted for years by the 1980’s the town would become half non-white, today the town is 47% black and 10% Asian.

Though these towns largely integrated with a privatized and suburbanized America, they do stand as a memorial to an idea of American urbanism that died. They were designed for walkability and were planned to be more democratic and egalitarian towns, with the conditions that came with segregation and government oversight. You can’t ignore the strict standards and racism in their history, but you can say that about many towns. How do you think America would be different if more cities had green suburbs that were more interconnected and designed for community gatherings?

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hotcrossbun · 1 year ago

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potential trigger warning:

I'm unsure of all the triggers I'll post so read at your own discretion. thank you. (addiction, divorce, DV, homelessness, sewer slide ideation, family separation) ((i think thats all))

diagnosed: bipolar 2, PTSD, gad.

ive been diagnosed bipolar 2 for 11 years. I'm only 26 years old but I feel my life has spun a little out of control this last year- since November of 2022. I impulsively (and probably mid episode) got married 5 years ago (2018) to a person I knew in high school. my daughter was only about 10 months old. it was really great while we were initially seeing each other but got married after only 2 weeks of officially dating. 😬 I was scared of the idea of being a single mom, trying to do it all and be mom and dad. and i did love them, we knew each other well for years and fell out for a while, but I wanted a sense of family and stability for myself and my daughter. I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself, but very very quickly the relationship turned. a lot of it was my fault- but there's plenty of issues that went around. I wasn't managing my illness well and they had been diagnosed BPD. their family eventually pulled back and enabled behaviors. there was a lot of abuse to each other from both sides. physical and emotional.

my daughter saw a lot she shouldn't have, me with injuries that probably scared her, listening to a lot of yelling and bad things. I feel horrible about it. I feel like I didn't protect her correctly but I still wanted her to have a family. I tried to leave multiple times but felt I had no where to really go- I felt safer in the chaos, at least it made sense, right? my instability and lack of support had transferred to my daughter unintentionally and I can't forgive myself for it.

after my ex spouse was arrested for DV in March this year we continued to talk and communicate when we weren't supposed to. ( no contact order ) maybe a little trauma bond-y but we both got evicted from the apartment and bc of a lack of support in my life we moved into another place together. I felt me and my daughter wouldn't have had a place to go. but the relationship was the same. we both triggered the worst parts of each other and both were pretty heavily drinking nightly at this point:(

they got charged officially in early July and when the court stuff was over they really never came back home. it was right before Father's Day and it really hurt me and luckily my daughter isn't really old enough to quite understand yet. (she's young, also a bit on the spectrum and has some speech development delays)

but I hurt for her because they decided to no longer be a part of either of our lives. (since July they have spoken to her 3 times and moved away from our hometown as well) ((everytime they spoke i had advocated for the communication))

my daughter and I moved a few states away for the summer to try to restart closer to my sister but my drinking was a little out of control. the divorce was finalized after our move and it hurt me a lot. I felt that I would tolerate anything for their love but they couldn't accept consequences to their actions. and I think it triggered a deep mixed episode I wasn't aware I was in. but I almost figured it out, I had an apartment lined up in a new state- 2 jobs, a new drivers license and insurance in a new state, my daughter was enrolled to start school. (all done while severely impaired, I was constantly under the influence of alcohol) ((sober now but probably would still drink given the ability, sadly enough.)) we were going to move out of my sister's as soon as I paid the deposit for our new place and my application got accepted to the complex- but the night before my daughter was supposed to start school I was deeply intoxicated and my sister noticed. she has a very low tolerance for any form of substance abuse and I did know that. I just rationalized what I was doing- I thought bc I was sad and upset- going through a lot- since it wasn't illegal- since I was still getting things done- that it was okay. we got kicked out of my sister's house that night and had to stay in a hotel for about a week.

while we stayed in the hotel I got very very low and contemplated sewer slide, my daughter couldn't get to school bc I didn't have a car and the buses didn't go all the way out to where we were, my sister wouldn't watch my daughter so I could work, and I was running low on funds to continue to pay for the room and a deposit on my apartment. I felt alone and like there was nothing left I could do. I acknowledged my negative consequences to my decisions, and the guilt hit hard, i just felt so lost. my wallet got stolen and had my card maxed out. we couldn't fly back to my home state bc my ID was in my wallet and I thought we were going to be homeless. I made some calls and long story short now we live with my daughters bio father, after a lot of borrowed money and a 18 hour car ride, and a lot of grateful feelings towards him and to the universe.❤️

I've always loved this man, I am now dating him again. he's never done wrong by me, it was always me that left and created any of the minute conflicts we've had. I think it has been a long time coming- me and my daughters dad being back together- he has been my best friend for longer than I can really put my finger on. but sometimes I feel like I've just lost all control of my life and worry we're just together bc I lost everything, because we've always been there for each other. recognizably harsh, he would be hurt if I said that, and doesn't lead me to think that. I just worry. he's not a perfect guy, he has tendencies at times that are hard to cope with but I love him for it it all. he's been through a lot lately too- but he's kind and tries really hard to be here for me even when I don't want him to be. he loves me and sees me, our upbringings are different but similar enough to be compatible. he helps me be better, more open, he keeps my heart and soul soft. hes no stranger to mental illness in himself or his family, but also doesn't struggle in the same way as me. I understand him and I hope he feels as if I've been here for him the same way as well.

last night after a long long trip, I started to feel a little episode starting to creep up after handling some situational and circumstantial things that are from our pasts. we both respected each other's separate lives but now have to make them coincide. collaborate and mix our separate lives into one. and now I feel like I'm in another mixed state. wanting to change my emotional identity and be someone else, impulsive feelings and manic thinking and lots and lots of guilt and feeling like an imposter, like I don't deserve to be here in this life or to be cared about. to be taken care of. to participate.

I know this man doesn't trigger me the same way but I have some deep rooted issues and emotional instability that I've been able to keep at bay for the most part. but there's a big part of me that recognizes that just 6 months ago this is not at all where I pictured myself or my daughter. I wouldn't truly change anything about right now- I'm happier ironically and feel safe. it was an off route to happiness I feel. but I fell behind again in things like med insurance and jobs and my daughter going to school bc of moving from out of state to back into our home state, and I have some solutions to these issues, we are balancing responsibilities that contain large dynamics that are so new- but what if the instability never ends? my life is unstable. it always has been. same with my emotions. am I bringing chaos to others lives?

how am I supposed to trust myself in the new life and 'solutions' and know if it's actually coming from a stable non-episode thinking? I always trust everything initially and then it turns into something else, like others are misleading me and I'm misleading myself, maybe that I'm misleading them, with or without the intention to do so. I internalize and am self aware almost to a detriment and I think it just causes more issues, bc I don't know what really is sane and what's not sometimes. am I delusional? am I missing the bigger picture? I love hard and feel everything so deeply idk what to trust anymore.

luckily my daughter is adjusting well, she's smart and kind and healthy, she's strong and willful. I just know that it's probably so hard on her and she lost the person she knew her whole life as her father. been moved around and the one thing she wanted to do was go to school and I couldn't do that for her. I feel so guilty. she's happy, her bio dad loves her so much but also I know that huge transitions for little ones isn't always easy and losing people no matter who they are hurts. she may not get it super well right now but I worry when she's older and really starts to grasp everything that has happened it will be something she will genuinely struggle with. it feels like its my fault. I wasn't dealt the best hand in life and although I do my best with it, by default it's her life now too.

I guess I wanted to express, maybe get some validation and advice. I'm seeking therapeutic services but waiting lists are forever long and it doesn't seem to be possible at the moment. I'm holding in there, I'm okay, just feels like everything could not be okay in a moments notice. I feel alone in my type of situation and feel so misunderstood by some people who've meant the most to me. I can't blame anyone though for not understanding bc I don't really understand it myself. I'm strong but only so beefed. smart but only so intelligent. I worry this is my life now. constantly just waiting for the ups and downs to make themselves known, and the consequences of my actions to be the things to tell me that I was in an episode and wasn't thinking clearly.

if you got to the end of this thank you for your time. I don't have a lot of people to talk to and I have very little family. I know my boyfriend loves me but I won't bring him down with my worries. I know that these neg feelings are probably fleeting but the consequences of life never are. I just wanted better for my daughters experiences. for her emotional well-being and her stability. I hope I am on the correct life path bc I am growing tired and a little hopeless that I am making the same mistakes. thank you again⛅

#mental health

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anotherdayforchaosfay · 2 years ago

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I need 2022 to end on a high note.

This has been the hardest year of my adult life, and that's saying a lot.

This year?

Started with a letter from the IRS informing us they took our entire federal tax return because I have to pay back my "no strings attaches" stimulus check. Why? Because I'm a Disabled non-contributing member of society.

A couple weeks later we received an eviction notice, no reason provided because legally one is not required if we've lived in a place for less than a year. We had two months to find a new place. Nothing in the size we need was less than $2500/month, and everything was month-to-month. Why month-to-month? Because of the law regarding raising rent. By not having a longterm contract, the landlord can raise rent every month. Oh, and kick us out whenever they damn well please.

Began house hunting because buying a house was the only other option. FYI: there are a LOT of programs for first time homebuyers. Programs for waiving the downpayment, covering part of the mortgage, programs for the Disabled so we can afford to buy a home, etc. Get a real estate agent, a good one, and they'll find all of this and more.

Husband's previous job began cutting hours because wages are "too high." No one could work full time. Husband's paycheck was cut in half because of this.

Husband applies for new job, has three interviews and waits for almost two months while dealing with other job.

Find a house, fill out paperwork, then the person who was helping us and processing everything for extremely sick with covid. The office clerk was given the job and fucked it up. She had everything she needed, but "lost" everything and need other stuff. We were supposed to move in on June 30th. It was moved a day, so we ended up having to borrow a friend's camper while all our stuff was in the moving trucks (yes, two trucks).

Because of the delay, the cold and frozen food we had stored in the fridge went bad. It was 100 F. We lost $600 worth of food. Because of this clerk's fuckup. We didn't budget for this!

Because of the delay, the moving people we hired to load, haul, and unload ended up costing more, leaving us with nothing to tip them with. Thankfully, they didn't throw a fit and were happy with gifts we gave them.

The landlord tried pulling some illegal shit and kept our deposit while demanding $500 from us. I sent a letter to the property management company, informing them if we didn't receive our deposit soon we would take them to small claims court. I check court cases to see how often the landlords here win. They never win. The law here also states that if we did take them to small claims, the landlord would have to give us TWICE the deposit amount. If we won, which we would, the landlord would have to cover our court costs as well, bring their bill to around $7k. Giving us our deposit back was in their best interests.

Husband got the new job and just days later we get sick. At my urging, we went to a clinic and got tested for covid. Came back positive. The new job is union, so no job loss due to being sick.

Husband got only fatigue, exhaustion, and his sense of smell and taste got weird.

I got a runny nose and congestion so severe, I ended up using a netipot 4-6 times a day for two weeks. Diarrhea like I'd eaten something with gluten in it. This required eating unripe bananas three times a day. Thankfully, two of Husband's DnD players were happy to go shopping for us and drop things off. I had pain everywhere. Moving around was a nightmare. Exhaustion like I had never experienced before. A fever for a week even while I had a constant full dose of Tylenol in my system. The fever ended up damaging my brain and now I have brain fog. I did pneumonia exercises to prevent pneumonia; I have epilepsy and asthma, both of which making getting/being sick an absolute nightmare.

It wasn't until the middle of November when the last of my symptoms finally ended. The worst that lingered was a weird pain in my left calf. It made walking extremely difficult, especially when the pain migrated down to my foot and ankle. It was like my body was remembering pain I had before. I still have brain fog and no idea when or if this will fix itself.

Wildfire smoke blanketed our area, making it difficult to recover from covid, and even after the tests came back negative, I was still suffering. Said suffering was made worse by the smoke, even with two air purifiers running and every window and door closed. For several months, it felt like I was wearing a too small corset too tightly.

Finally received our deposit from the landord this month. Used that to cover the costs of a few things, plus treating ourselves because this year has been shit.

Jasper, our cat, became fatally ill and had to be euthanized two days ago. I've talked about it a lot, so no need to mention more here.

I'm unable to focus long and well enough to get any sewing done, which means adding more inventory to my shop has been slowed. I had intended to work on holiday stuff in September, but got sick with covid and couldn't work on anything until October. Now it's more like I'm preparing for nest year.

Husband has a massive cyst at the base of his spine that needs to be drained. He's had cysts there twice before, but in his 20s. We think this was triggered due what he leans on when having a break at work. It's the corner of a cement thing and it rested right there on the spot where the cyst is. He wanted to drain it at home last night, and we tried. He woke up in even more pain, and is now at an urgent care clinic. I'm signing him up for insurance today because he's been delaying it for months. The insurance is provided by his employer. It won't cover today, but I did tell him to pick up financial aid paperwork before he gets home.

I need December to be amazing, great, wonderful, full of happy things and good news. No more bad news this year, no more bad things. I need this to end on a high note of positive and not sink into shit again when the new year starts.

I am so fucking tired.

#chaosfay talks

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renjunluvr119 · 15 days ago

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I’ve always lived for my family never myself. Was gonna die at 16 but wait the family who left you in the system needs help paying bills. So you say okay i will get a full time job and help. But no actually they are buying drugs with said money. Or when you get kicked out of your adoptive home at 18 bc you’re friends were drinking but you weren’t but they wont listen bc you come from a family of addicts. So at 18 you think okay maybe now but then you move in with your birth family bc the older sister you protected in foster care is now pregnant so you move in to take care of her. You raise her kid, she parties, she gets pregnant again and the cycle repeats. All the while you are taking care of your other niece bc her mother is too busy doing drugs and men. To the point where she calls you mother. You get accepted into college finally. How exciting oh but no you must drop out care for them. Then you are 20. You get evicted bc even tho you were giving money to pay bills they weren’t. You move in with a fiend for 3 months when you come back they have lost your niece to the system. This is your fault. Not theirs. Your sister is pregnant again you are working 2 full time jobs while being a full time student to keep your aid. Something has to give. So you drop out again. You are 22 she finally leaves but no now your oldest sister needs somewhere to live. She doesn’t work and she doesn’t clean or help at all but yet she complains. All the while your mother is there latched to you like a leech draining anything you have to give. You almost kill your self get locked away oh but now they have no money you must cut your stay short so you can provide. You are 24 your grandmother moves in from the nursing home bc she wants to be with family. Your sister says she will care for her you don’t have to worry. This is a lie. You are now here primary caregiver. You switch two a weekend job so you can care for her, the only thing you ask of your sister is to care for her on those days as you are working 12 hour night shifts. She cannot as she also has a job. It is October she has lost her job and is going on vacation. You sit and think you almost relapse you almost off yourself. You don’t only bc who will take care of your grandmother. She has done nothing wrong but give birth to your line. She was the one taking care of everyone for years. Now it is your turn. Has been since you were 16. Your sister tells you she is pregnant. There is no room for a child she does not have a job. She can do nothing to help with grandma or the house bc of the baby. You find yourself wishing she doesn’t come to term. You can’t be a mother for the 5th time when you’ve never given birth. You think does this make you a horrible person. Who knows you have long lost the idea of emotions. You have a mega fight you feel nothing the whole time as you try to argue your point. You talk level, she yells over you. You start to remember you turn 25 in December. You had plans to finally give up to finally let them handle to yourself, when your grandmother moved in you decided not too. But this reminds you for what? For why? Maybe i shall stick to my plans. I do nothing for them anyways? Surely she will be fine after i die. But who know i will not be here to see it. Ah December a wonderful month for me. When i was born, when i was taken into the system, when i became a mother to my sisters child. When she got out of jail and everyone forgot about my birthday, the month i spent alone working 10 hour days every day to pay bills and care for them in jail while leaving myself with 100 dollars for two weeks to eat and have gas and essentials, the month i got kicked out from my adoptive family and when i had to drop school. Fitting it should be the month to give me my last big hoorah. But you know… better luck next time i suppose

#vent post

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nathank77 · 1 month ago

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10/4/24

I keep talking bc I haven't focused on me in a long time: 10:10 p.m

More added to it by 10 p.m

9:42 p.m

Added to/significantly changed 9:51 p.m

I'm still not able to look at what happened to my mother bc i can't cope with it but I'm coping with the reality of it by saying, she would be dead. If they couldn't do this for her she would be dead. And I get to have my mom bc of that.

Also I had something else to say but I forgot. I'll remember and reupdate this if i remember.

I remember all the things:

1) I'm slowly starting to wear the potential poison ivy clothes... so far I've started with socks. I can live with poison ivy feet......

I wore my poison ivy jeans today... my dick will still be protected by of my clean not poison ivy boxers..

Eventually I'll go to my shirts... then my hoodies.. and then my boxers... but that may take a while.

If i keep the attitude that my socks would give me poison ivy but they haven't, and my pants would but they haven't eventually I can move to shirts, hoodies and boxers.

Everytime she brushes up against me my brain is there is poison ivy but maybe there isn't.. so it's hard bc I know it probably isn't there but it could be there and what if I didn't wash my clothes right to make sure it was out bc I didn't... bc it's potential... not gaurentee..

Saying I'll kill myself if I get poison ivy in sensitive spots helps me cope bc I have a way out of my worse fear and it's all I got so far.

Also I haven't been masterbating bc of my anxiety about spreading posion ivy... it sucks.

2) it's been 3, almost 4 months since my circadian rhythm has been fixed. It's a big accomplishment and I'm proud of myself.

I'm never going back.

3) about killing myself if I had to get a colostomy bag... I mean i would in this given life i have atm.

If i had kids and a wife and something to live for maybe things would be different but they aren't.

4) also I'm getting my MRI very soon so we will figure out what's wrong with my ears. They still pop and weird things have been happening with them I've mentioned it before as it happened. It could be tmj for all I know but I think it's more than that.

5) Lastly Riley is crated too much. 8 hours a day and then i take her out and she poops and liv locks her back in... then she get out again and lays in it anyways and monitors my door.

I do love the dog but I got to crate her when I leave, when I cook, when I showers, when I shave my face and head and when I do laundry.

But everytime she poops in the house after ive released her, liv puts her back in....

It's ranging on dog abuse/neglect. Not bc of me but bc she's being over crated and I can't stop liv from doing it. I only do when I have to... i didn't this morning when I cooked bc I felt bad cause I knew she would be locked away most of the day when I was with my mom...

Today she jumped up on me a second time when i put my gloves up on the fridge... so I have another shirt in the washer/dryer bc of her shit paws.

I hope my mom comes to her senses when she comes home and realizes that the dog is unhappy and we aren't giving her a life she deserves.

She went to bite my arm, playfully to get me to play. She didn't actually do it. But she almost did. So I had to stop playing with her to discourage that behavior.

She's recently started stepping in her shit... I feel like shes acting out bc she's being crated too much... yet I don't over do it but liv puts her back in... and then it's even more time.

Idk what to do about her. She's actually a sweet dog and she deserves better but my mom will hate me and my sister will evict me if I save her.

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hyenadon · 1 year ago

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some ramblings!!! some mention of previous bad mental health, paranoia, alcoholism. But overall a post abt how nice it is to be slowly but surely growing through that

Okay so like. Every single second in every way I get to make my apartment into more of a permanent (at least until august next year, probably gonna renew the lease again, I really do love living here) home I feel soooooo fucking happy and it relaxes me SOOOO fucking much.

in 2020 I was living w my parents and I truly cannot describe the high level of alcoholism and self hate and misery I was in. I was so totally out of control and in this awful pit of shame and I had no control over myself or my life or living situation. I was blackout drunk for....most of that year. Throwing up constantly. Screaming fights w my parents ALL the time, literally 2-3 times a week. Just so fucking terrible.

When I finally moved out it was blanket nest on the floor, shitty basement apartment. And obvi I got my furniture and shit but it was still really just mentally bad for me?? Like I was still drinking so SO SO much, constantly drinking enough to puke probably 3-4 times a week. I was hurting myself. I was showing up to work hours late and I almost got fired. I was also having such awful vivid dreams and was so like. Idk I was in such overdrive that every time a piece of lint moved across the floor or I heard a tiny scuffle I thought it was bugs or rats in my apartment crawling over me. I also thought on multiple occasions that someone was breaking into my apartment. Just fuckin terrible overall.

And y'all when I decided to move back to my fave neighborhood, I told my bestie that like. I knew it was going to be good for me. I think I said to them st like "it's not going to fix all my problems but I think it's going to make me happier"

And y'all.

It's been abt a year and 4 months since I moved back to RP and like. That happiness started fucking immediately. The actual growth was slower. But god fucking damn it's been growth.

I stopped showing up late to work. I actually got a raise and a promotion and I might gun for another raise soon (maybe let's give it till next may...idk...). I started cooking a looottttt more and I'm like super enjoying it instead of it being a horrible chore. It's still such a fucking chore sometimes tho. But like for instance I fucking love making chicken stock now. And drying my own herbs and spices! And I like cleaning again because it makes my space feel special, and my own. I decorate a lot more too because I feel confident that I won't like, be evicted, or have to move, anytime soon. And I just! Fucking love it!

I'm not on meds or doing therapy so I feel like I should be given bonus points for like. Going from paranoid dreams and drinking till I piss myself to like. Hyperfocusing on cleaning and cooking because it always leaves me w a smile on my face. All of this was just emotional work. i did this. It wasn't meds or therapy its just me doing the emotional work to like. feel safe.

It's pretty decent. I like my life rn. It's not perfect but. It's pretty okay.

#personal

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alienaiver · 3 years ago

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Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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choiwrites · 4 years ago

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kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)

Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.

When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.

He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.

"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.

You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.

"I though you quit?"

Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.

"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."

Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.

"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.

He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.

"What?" you croaked.

"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"

"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.

"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"

"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.

He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.

"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."

There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.

"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

"Fine," almost tired in his tone.

And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.

Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.

Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.

He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.

"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.

"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."

"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.

He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.

"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.

"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.

"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."

Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.

What does he need this time?

And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.

He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."

In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.

"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."

You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.

"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."

The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.

On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.

No, you argued inside your head.

Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.

Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.

"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."

He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod? God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.

He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?

"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.

"How was what?"

"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.

It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.

There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.

"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."

"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.

"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"

"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."

"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.

"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."

You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."

"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."

"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.

Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.

Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.

He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.

"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.

"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."

It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.

Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.

"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"

He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.

The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.

The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.

Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.

"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.

"Can you just get to it?"

He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."

You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."

He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.

You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong."

There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.

"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"

"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."

"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."

"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"

"I was looking for you last-"

"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."

"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"

Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.

"I am. Hey, are you okay?"

"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."

It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.

"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."

He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.

"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.

There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.

You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.

You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.

His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.

Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.

"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.

You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.

He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.

He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.

A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.

"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."

"What?"

Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.

"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"

"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."

You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.

"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."

But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.

He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"

In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.

He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.

"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.

"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.

"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."

#kim taehyung #kth #taehyung smut #taehyung imagine #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts fic #drabble #bts x reader #taehyung fic

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reynaruina · 4 years ago

Text

(PT Dib AU) Burning Bridges

Written by @il-allora and I!

Illustrated by @izzydrawsforfun

WARNING TAGS: Gore, Blood, fetus killing, Suicidal idealization. Read at your own risk.

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Dib winced at the sight.

It was the same as he remembered. The tall, white building, full of harsh corners and closed doors, of secrets and discoveries. It stood, impervious to time, behind a perfectly trimmed lawn and a couple of huge statues that seemed to look down upon his meekly parked car. Dib had hoped for a different reaction, but the sight of this old place still gave him a full body shiver and an overwhelming desire to step on the accelerator.

"C'mon, pull it together," he chastised himself. "You need this job."

It wasn't the first time he'd had to pump himself up before walking into work. In fact, most times he had to. However his past pep talks had rarely felt so necessary, for multiple reasons.

Getting hired here wasn’t the hard part at all, in fact. After spending years having to infiltrate the building for various reasons, he’d eventually known all of the ins and outs, and that—coupled with how lax the hiring policies were for janitorial staff—meant it was easy for Dib to get a job here without even having to do an interview. Despite this, he’d really rather find work anywhere else, no matter how difficult—but he was simply running out of options.

He had lost another job. That wasn't surprising; it happened almost every month. By now he was always searching for more work, even when employed, just to have somewhere else to go. However, with every new place he was fired or laid off from, the hunt became harder and harder. Job opportunities in this city were running dry, and he knew he had to do everything in his power to keep this new one—no matter how much he hated that he had to come here, of all places.

It had been surreal enough to apply for this job after nearly losing his apartment again. As always, it started with the past due services bills piling up, then maintenance bills, then he was given an eviction notice. This time he did try to save his ass, for a change; he needed the place to keep his tech.

Of course, he could just hop in his car and move to another city. But that would also mean moving away from...

"Okay," Dib whispered to himself, gathering his remaining inner strength to step out of the car. He couldn't let his thoughts wander to him again. Not now.

The car door squeaked noisily as Dib got out. He flung his backpack over his shoulder and slammed the door shut. He cast his eyes to the building, barely able to deal with all of his mixed feelings.

As he walked towards it, he could almost see a younger version of himself, trying to get in to see his dad on one of the few occasions where he bothered. It sent chills down his spine, as he now repeated the steps for the first time in almost a decade.

Beyond his personal history with the place, rumor held that strange experiments had been going on at Membrane Labs for years. Some were to further science for the elites, promising eternity for those who could afford it. After all, how did Membrane pay for those impressive perpetual energy generators, cures for diseases, and synthetic water for underdeveloped areas of the world? How did the cash flow in for all the philanthropic work?

There were a vast array of conspiracy theories involving each of Membrane Lab’s programs: mass media manipulation; reptilians paying for a secret space program; Membrane belonging to the Illuminati or working with the CIA; experiments with mass teleportation corresponding to mysterious disappearances in his staff; frequent changes of security protocols within the labs tied to genetic manipulation experiments; monsters; and self-experimenting.

In the end, Dib could only pull evidence for one such possibility. After all, he was living proof that the world’s greatest scientist did in fact self-experiment. The rest of the conspiracy theories mostly came out of left field and, while they caught his mind’s eye from time to time, still weren’t enough to bother following up on.But now, during the long walk towards the entrance lab on the back of the building, he lied to himself: "Think of the opportunity. I could investigate the strange disappearances or the genetics experiments."

In all honesty, he wasn’t interested in uncovering any secrets. It was just a good job and he needed the money. He really, really did.

Dib sighed, placing a hand on his forehead, and said to himself, "I've reached a new low.” It was humiliating to knock on the door of a building that belonged to the same man that had kicked him out of his fake family. Even though this wasn’t his old house, he could still imagine Gaz at the door, saying “You’re an idiot” before she slammed it closed.

And it had been a recurrent thought since he applied, to encounter Membrane and his sister again..

Maybe seeing how Dib preferred a minimum wage job to what the professor had in mind for him would be a nice comeback in itself, a way of spitting in his face. Dib could say a few things, too, on how Membrane had fucked up, how Dib was a failure and living proof of his mistakes. In his mind’s eye he spoke his side of the story, his feelings pouring like venom on his family. His dad. His clone. “Look at me,” Dib would scream, “you made me, take responsibility.”

Or maybe not. Maybe it was better to keep a low profile. He needed the money, he needed this job. Was he already shooting himself in the foot by thinking of ways to get fired?

Membrane probably wouldn’t even recognize him, anyways.

Dib stopped by the back entrance and took a deep breath.

“C’mon, man. Since when are you this fucking dramatic?” he said to himself, scratching the back of his neck until it hurt.

Distracted by his thoughts, he bumped into a large man guarding the back entrance to the labs.

“Name and position,” the man said, and his menacing, penetrating gaze almost made Dib forget his fake name.

“Fred Hans, Janitor Level 3,” he squeaked out, presenting his fake ID.

The man looked between Dib and the ID, silently measuring him, and Dib almost swore he heard a mechanical whirring coming from the security guard’s head. As soon as Dib caught the odd glint in the man’s left eye, he turned and led Dib in. The man brought him past four security posts. After granting Dib an access card and clearance pass, the man signalled toward the changing rooms and disappeared.

Dib let out a shaky breath as he finally entered the dressing room. He sat and put on his uniform. Blue overalls; knee- high boots; gloves up to his elbows; a gas mask with NBC filters; a cap that required him to pull his hair into a low bun (no easy feat, it took a lot of manhandling even though he’d come prepared with about a thousand hair pins); and safety goggles he didn’t put on, since they didn’t have his prescription.

A small, angry-looking woman entered the room,

“Frank Hem??” she said in a soft, snooty voice, looking at a clipboard through her half moon glasses.

Dib felt a little bothered by how they couldn’t even get a fucking fake name right, even though he’d tried to find the most foolproof one around. Still, he nodded. She pointed at the fourth cart stocked at the side.

“Everything’s ready, the professionals need cleanup in sector 4-O.” She still wasn't looking at him. “The aisles have maps, you’ll find it in the fourth underground, this is floor six. Take the elevator with your security card and flash your clearance to the cameras. As you go in the threat is biological, make sure your filters are on. Good day.” With that briefing, she turned and left him to his own devices.

This made Dib wary. Though he wanted to avoid getting nosy on the job, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in here. His mind raced; each time he heard voices in the corridors, he froze for a moment and found himself walking a little faster. Once in the elevator he realized that, if he didn’t need an escort, it meant that Membrane had put more money into advancing his bio security. As far as Dib knew, he had been scanned, measured, weighed and fingerprinted before he ever managed to cross the turnstile.

His fingerprints hadn’t even been in the local databank, despite being Membrane’s son. This wasn’t news for him—he had known about it since he was a child—but it was still another sour droplet to add to the acid ocean inside his chest.

Fearing the angle where his thoughts were headed, Dib focused on his surroundings. His eyes stopped at the camera in the corner of the elevator, and immediately looked down.

“What an amateur, wanna give them your ID too?” he huffed, frowning at his hands. His face felt red all over. Had they seen him? Would...he...recognize him if they had?

“He wouldn’t care if he did”, said the voice at the back of his mind and it stung in his chest. “Are you looking for his attention?”

Dib sighed when the elevator came to a halt. Pulling at the clearance card at his neck, he got out to find his way around the underground floor.

As soon as he stepped into the vacated area full of danger signs and blockades, it became more apparent that whatever science was happening here had gone very wrong. Blood pooled on the floor and stained the hallway walls, and a pale liquid had been spilled on the counters, floor and (somehow) ceiling. Probing the gooey substance between his gloved fingers, Dib saw it was greasy enough that most cleaning products wouldn’t get it off. He had to read the bottles on his cart and test a few products before he managed to find one that could get everything done.

Dib scrubbed the floors and walls on autopilot, jumping at every distant door opening and closing, wishing he had been less of a coward and actually smuggled his phone and headphones inside as he’d been planning. He was ready to deal with most everything this place had to offer, as he’d seen it all at some point in his youth: horrible man-made monsters escaping and rampaging their way through the staff, energy experiments blowing up in people’s faces, Taco Tuesday, the overwhelming grind of bureaucracy...but the one thing he hadn’t expected was the silence.

Silence. His worst enemy. In truth, recently it had become even worse than...his actual worst enemy. It kept creeping in on him at the worst times and serving pain like a syringe straight to the veins.The Demon was louder in the silence, sure, but his other thoughts were too, and these days he didn’t like either of them. And especially in a place like this, the same Membrane Labs he’d grown up breaking into visiting, the deeper he went into his own thoughts, the more he couldn’t help but dwell on his history with his...clone.

And more bitterness settled in his chest.

The worst part of being theoretically capable of anything, Dib thought as he scrubbed at an especially sturdy grease spot on a wall, was lacking the resources and will to make his projects a reality. And that certainly was part of the problem for him, part of the reason he kept falling into chasm after chasm with no meaningful progress in sight, but deep down he knew he couldn’t keep blaming Nature and The Powers That Be for his bad lot in life. He was a mess, he’d always been a mess, and even if his luck magically decided to turn a 180 and shower him with everything he needed to succeed in life, it would all go to waste. It happened every time a small opportunity presented itself; why wouldn’t it keep happening on a greater scale?

Maybe this pessimistic outlook on life wouldn’t get him anywhere. It certainly didn’t help that he expected failure in everything he attempted. Still, how could he look at things any other way? Growing up, he’d constantly been told by Membrane (and the whole of society as well, to an extent) that he couldn't manage anything in his life, that he was a screw-up and a waste of time. No wonder there was a point where he actually came to believe it. And once he did, it had stuck with him.

Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You’d be like Membrane. Don’t forget it.

Dib sighed deeply, rubbing away at a tough stain. A part of him wanted to flee from this place, drop whatever he was doing, maybe jump out of a window just to get it done quicker. The rest of him wanted to find Membrane and punch him in the face for being an absent parent, for lying, for having made Dib at all, for the years of neglect, for using Gaz against him, for taking advantage of a society that didn’t know better, and for tearing him down at every turn.

The voice came on loudly. “He wouldn’t care, no matter what you do to offend him. He’s moved on without you. The world has.”

This was going nowhere. Like always, the bottomless pit of bad thoughts that Membrane inspired led only to absolute despair. And Dib wasn’t drunk enough right now to bother

Replacing his heavily stained gloves with clean ones from the janitor cart, Dib grabbed a bucket and started going through the three or four operating tables in the cleaning area. Most just had a ton of utensils strewn over them, which he dutifully collected. A couple had suspicious meat pieces on them, but they were all stained with the same fluids as the rest of the place. As he tried to flee from further thoughts of Membrane, however, Dib let his gaze fixate on the stainless steel of the tables and felt a memory arise from the depths of his subconscious, like a noxious bubble of gas surfacing in the murky waters of a swamp.

Until only a few years ago, he desired nothing else but to see Zim cut open on one of those.

Dib shuddered. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d been doing such a good job of not thinking about him. And now, in a moment of weakness, the floodgates cracked open and the cascade of thoughts came rushing in.

He hadn't come.

Dib gripped the bucket handle with a painful tightness.

Once again this week, Zim had missed lunch time. Dib had waited until the last moment possible, risked coming late into work, just hoping for a visit...but nothing had happened.

Leaving aside his (honestly, ridiculous) feelings of betrayal and worry, this pattern was starting to seem weird, and Dib was aware of how tremendously wrong it sounded for him to find this switch in attitude from the alien alarming. After all, hadn't he been hoping for a long time now for Zim's odd behavior to change?

From day one, Dib had known the lunches were a bad thing. No matter how pretty, well put together, and delicious they were, they came from Zim, and they would inevitably have a horrific reason behind their existence and lead to a terrible outcome. What their purpose even was, Dib had yet to find out, but he was sure the lunches were bad.They had to be.

And now the lunches were gone.

Why, then, wasn't Dib happy about it?

His stomach growled angrily. It had been doing so for a couple days now. Although Dib tried to splurge a little extra on food (he’d even gotten a whole pizza slice from a local Bloaty’s no less than a day before), his stomach kept protesting. And the pain in his chest didn’t help matters much.

Dib bit his lip. Seemed like one of his theories about the lunches was correct, after all. Zim did want him to get used to them, enjoy them, expect them every day, just so he could yank them away without warning and laugh at Dib’s stupid, eager, hungry face.

He could investigate this further. Could dust off his old spy drone that had broken long ago, try to repair it and send it to check on Zim. He could drop by after work, confront Zim, maybe raid his fridge or something, make sure he was...okay...

But he wouldn’t. He knew what this meant. Deep down, he knew what this had always been: just an elaborate joke by Zim. And showing up at his door, or even sending over a spy drone that Zim would probably find and crush again in a matter of minutes, would just reveal his hand. Reveal how much this stupid ploy actually got to him, how much he’d gotten attached to the daily little visits, the carefully wrapped packages, the wonderfully tasty food. And Dib had some pride in him still.

He had to keep some pride. If he let Zim erode away even that, he would collapse, and without Dib to stop Zim the world would also collapse, ground under Irk’s mighty boot.

And his father would be right. Dib was never good for anything, after all.

“Lunch break!” resounded from the little speaker in his cart's handle, snapping him out of the depressing daydreaming session. Dib grumbled: he was not done with this area and would probably have to come back after lunch.

“You’d be done already if you weren’t thinking so hard about the alien you wanna fuck. Now you may risk getting fired on your first day from being too slow. Nice going, genius.”

He hurried to put everything in order, or in as much order as he could, before pushing his cart to the side and heading to his changing station. He tossed his dirty clothes aside and took some clean ones before heading to the section appointed as the canteen on the fifth floor. Dib got on the elevator along with everyone else, pressed up in the middle.

The small talk going on around him was giving him a headache. Most times the Demon voice at the back of his mind was vicious and oppressive, and it sure had been present several times through the day already, but this was one of those times where he actually felt like shit without its help. Although, this shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the sense of worthlessness arose while he was scrubbing the floors at his successful parent’s enterprise.

At least the surroundings were nice, he thought as he arrived at the serving area. The cafeteria was spacious and clean. The only points of contention for him were the many monitors blasting Membrane Labs ads, posters of Membrane everywhere, and most egregious of all, the large sign with a list of corporate ethics/safety rules on most walls, which he couldn’t help but find amusing. Membrane and ethics… Right.

Almost absentmindedly, his eyes drifted to the visage on the posters. Membrane looked older, gray in his hair, wrinkles about his forehead. Even if his face was half covered, Dib could easily make the rest of his features. Dib pondered their height. They must be the same height by now, unless his malnutrition had managed to halt that. It had made Dib’s eyes larger and sunken into their sockets,even if he could see they were the same pale amber as his father’s. At least the facial hair was something he didn’t see Membrane growing, at least not if it was as patchy as Dib’s. Dib looked down at his hands, long, bony fingers and chipped nails, reddening about the tips…

He sighed, and looked away. As had many of the other meandering thoughts that assaulted him throughout the day, this one was going nowhere.

Once by the serving area, he grabbed a tray, making sure to keep his head as low as possible and waiting for the other staff to go before him to minimize the chance of being recognized. The smell of good food inundated the area. Looking at the variety of amazing looking dishes on offer, Dib felt his mouth water despite his heart’s protests. He could at least eat well if he managed to keep this job.

Emboldened by the one positive thought he’d had all day, Dib went to serve himself once the coast was clear. Daringly, he decided to go for some grilled chicken thighs, fried saffron rice, green salad and an apple, the exact same combination of dishes Zim had brought him more than once. Sure, Zim’s meals were always arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner inside brightly colored tupperwares, wrapped in nice-smelling and clean dish towels, and he also got to eat them in the privacy of his apartment, but...

It was best not to dwell.

Looking for a place to sit, briefly crossing glances with the other staff who happened to stare his way, Dib felt as he had in high school for a moment. Finally he found a table at the back, where he sat alone. He began fiddling with his food, cutting a bit of chicken and portioning out the rice, trying to mathematically calculate the best possible part of the meal to start with. It had suddenly become important that this meal was good. He needed this to be good. He needed it to be better than...

Finally, fearing his meal would grow cold if he kept stalling, Dib loaded his fork and brought it to his mouth.

It was good. It was really good, Membrane clearly had skilled staff working at the kitchens; the food tasted just as nice as it looked and smelled, and going by what was on Dib’s contract, he knew he could have second or third servings if he wanted.

...

...And yet....

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. He took another forkful, then another, then couldn’t stomach any more. His throat felt blocked, his body had grown tense. He tried to cover his face with a hand, hoping no one would notice the quiet whimper forcing itself from his lips.

It was good, but there was something missing. Something huge missing, that made it almost unbearable after a few bites. Something he couldn’t really pinpoint, though deep down he knew what it was.

“Fuck you, Zim,” he whispered, pushing the plate away.

Now he was sure. This was Zim’s plan all along. Zim didn’t even need to put anything in his meals, didn’t need to do anything but come dutifully every day and bring Dib something Zim knew he could reject; and in such a nicely presented way that was sure to touch Dib where it hurt. And it had worked. It had worked so well that his body now protested the absence, because despite Dib’s vigilance and hard-fought attempts not to fall for Zim’s ploy...his heart was weak. It was weak for Zim. And once his heart fell for the stupid green alien, his body was sure to follow.

Zim knew of his feelings. Zim had known what would happen. This was the most horrific plan he’d ever devised, and the most effective one by far.

But, as always, there was that little corner of Dib’s mind that refused to admit the obvious.

“Maybe something happened to him. Maybe something went wrong”, the tiny voice whispered in a worried tone.

“Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup.” Dib and the Demon voiced the same plea.

“Go to Zim’s house. You need to go. Maybe he needs you.”

“He doesn’t. He never did, and never will.” The Demon was louder this time, but Dib wasn’t disagreeing.

There was no reason to go and confirm his suspicions. He didn’t wanna look Zim in the eyes and watch him laugh in his face. He wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

A loud news segment blared on the cafeteria TVs all of a sudden. Desperate for a distraction Dib decided to watch the broadcast, even if it happened to feature his better self’s hateable mug.

What seemed to be a late night’s live recording of Membrane exiting a police station quickly filled the screens. Surrounded by news anchors, Gaz standing meekly by his side, his face betrayed a tiredness Dib hadn’t seen in years. It gave Dib a smidge of joy to see him like this, he wasn’t gonna lie.

“As you’ve heard, the body found in the woods is that of my long-lost son, Dib Membrane. My daughter and I identified him a couple hours ago at the coroner’s office,” Membrane began.

Dib’s eyes widened.

“The cause of death is still under investigation, and considering the body’s state, we will be holding a closed casket funeral. It will still be open to the public, however—we will be holding a public funeral—and we do hope you can offer us your presence and respect in this trying time. As to our shareholders’ pressing need for an answer, we will continue working as we have. Our efforts to make the world better and more available for everyone through innovation are still our main objective,” he said. “I will make the papers official in due time, but for now I can advance that the future of Membrane Labs will be in my daughter’s hands. She has proven time and time again to be a capable executive and a brilliant scientist. Thank you all for your time, but we should go make preparations to say goodbye to my son.”

The screaming questions kept coming as Membrane saluted the public and let the security guards escort him and Gaz towards his vehicle. The censored picture of a mangled corpse came up as the anchor rambled further about last night’s case, but Dib couldn’t make sense of the words.

Dib’s hand went slack and he dropped the fork he was still holding. Blinking was painful when he managed. He could only register that the loop had resumed and there was a murmur among the people at the lunch hall.

He was...dead...

He was dead to the world, divested of his identity completely for legal purposes. Disposed of in the woods… He had officially died and didn’t exist. What had been an informal fact for years on end was now a reality.

Dib hadn’t realized he was walking until he stopped at the elevator, pressing his card to go to the final floor of the tower. Walking on autopilot, guided by memory alone, he was on his way to his father’s old office.

A heavy weight settled on his chest and it was becoming hard to breathe. His hands were sweating. Every one of his impulses said that he needed to find his clone to get answers.

“He killed a nobody and you think he can’t actually dispose of you. It’d be easy. Convenient.” A whisper inside his head.

“But I need answers,” he retorted faintly, his vision blurring. Everything seemed to be stifled by Membrane’s words: Goodbye to my son.

“He has to say goodbye to my face,” Dib insisted angrily through his teeth.

The elevator stopped and the music interrupted his thoughts, making his head pound in pain. He looked around as he climbed out, and walked to a door at the end of a long hallway filled with devices and laboratories of all sorts.

Would Membrane even be around? The question assaulted Dib as he walked around like a zombie, poking in and out of empty areas as he tried to juggle his memory. He wasn’t sure if it even mattered, or what he’d exactly do if he found out—

“I don’t like this, dad.”

Gaz’s voice from the office at the end of the empty hallway.

Dib walked faster. A tight, painful lump had formed in the middle of his chest, seemingly trying to pull him back.

“This isn’t about what you like or not, Gazleen,”

Membrane’s voice sounded cold and angry. Dib froze in place, suddenly terrified, the lump taking control over his limbs and bringing his movements to a screeching halt.

“But Dib’s still—” Gaz began in her usual raspy, seething tones. She sounded especially miffed, somehow.

“Dib is dead, Gazleen.” Dib felt dizzy. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Footsteps came towards the door. Despite Dib’s desire to stand his ground and face this man, even spit in his face, the primal fear inside him was taking the lead and pulling him to find shelter. He quickly sneaked into a side lab, leaving the door slightly ajar to watch them from the darkness.

They walked in silence, Membrane at the front, Gaz following behind with eyes downcast and fists tight. Dib couldn’t even take any joy in knowing she was mad at Membrane, because she still...still...

And Membrane stood tall, so tall. Hair long, uniform pristine, posture strong and demanding of respect. Dib felt every joint in his body trying to melt with the embarrassment of belonging to an inferior clone. He looked away for a moment, unable to bear the sight, and when his eyes returned to the hallway they were both gone.

Instinctively, Dib closed the door of the lab he was hiding in and laid his back against it. He was breathing heavily, blinking away tears, his knees feeling like they’d turned to mush. He wanted to scream but his voice had abandoned him, he struggled to breathe as he slowly sat on the floor, feeling absolutely helpless.

“It was a matter of time”, said the voice at the back of his mind."They haven’t cared about you for years, why would they even keep pretending you’re alive? To them, you’ve been dead for a long time. You’re useless, you have always been useless. An entitled, proud, stupid, arrogant failed experiment.”

One last stab to his sanity as he trembled, paralyzed, on the floor. He hugged his legs, feeling like a waste of space.

He should have said something. He should have done something. Anything would have been better than cowering behind a door and letting them walk away.

“But you didn’t. You’re too weak.”

...

It took Dib a long time to open his eyes. Face buried in his knees, arms hugging his legs, he wanted nothing more than to succumb to the void. But reality slowly began to creep back in, and eventually, his head rose and his eyelids parted.

It took his vision a good while to take in the dim surroundings. Feeling lost, he tried to identify what exactly this small lab room was for, this far up on the building. A couple counters with testing equipment here and there, some computer in the far corner and...What?

Smack dab in the middle of the room, several life support tubes were embedded in the floor. The strange liquid filling them emitted an ominous blue hue. Most were empty with the exception of one, just a few feet from the entrance, where a small fetus sat developing.

The dark hair protruding out of its large head in a distinctive fashion horrified him.

He got up and approached it. Seeing it up close, the similarity became more apparent…

Dib screamed in anger for what seemed to be hours, scratching his face and wanting to tear apart his skin, punching the floor, crying, enraged.

What is a man if he’s been divested of life itself? What is an individual if he can’t afford to be unique? He was a shadow now, an imperceptible passing of air better left ignored. So he screamed and fought against the absolute nothingness left for him, the last sick gift given by his father, his creator, himself.

Maybe the voice inside his head was Membrane all this time.

Dib placed a naked hand on the tube, looking at the embryo and then at his reflection; his own amber, empty eyes looked back at him…

He growled and gave the glass one punch that felt great, then another, and another, and it exploded around his hand by the time he’d started crying and screaming again. Amniotic fluid flowed onto the floor as the fetus fell out, dragged by the current, landing not far away from Dib. He stepped forward and quickly disabled the alert on the screen next to the tube.

The small fetus started moving and Dib took a few deep, ragged breaths before stepping on its big, horrible head.

He told himself that he was saving it from having a life like his, as he heard its skull snap and crunch under his foot. He told himself that it was Membrane’s fault while he stepped on it again and again, until it was just an indiscernible mass of meat, blood, and bones.

...

The sound of the elevator music now pierced his ears. He looked at himself in the elevator mirror, gathering his thoughts, as he went down to the first floor. He half-ran most of the way through the building, in a haze, looking down to conceal his distraught state.

“Forgot something in my car,” he said before the security guard could chase after him.

At the car, he opened his trunk and pulled out his computer, a portable hard drive, several USB drives, and two rustic-looking devices he had made himself, stashing everything in his overalls. Luckily the uniform was far too big for him anyways, so he could easily carry the devices without any suspicious bulging.

Leaving a “Cleaning in Progress” sign by the cart, Dib entered the seventh floor service bathroom. Pulling out his tools inside the first stall, he set to work, starting up a program to loop the security camera feed he’d made after he found Zim’s cameras in his first apartment. There was a distant spark in his chest this time at the thought of Zim, overridden quickly by the cold void left from being stripped of his right to die.

If Dib died now, no one would know. He couldn’t even do that on his own terms. “Will anyone care if you die? Maybe all of those loved ones you have? Friends? Lovers?” the Demon parroted, digging in the wound. The tears stung in his eyes, but Dib kept focus,

He thought of Gaz and him as children, stealing food before the appointed time for dinner, fighting over the TV and spending time together on quiet nights when Gaz had hurt her little fingers designing her Teddy Bear/Security System. Odd, soft moments in the Membrane household, Gaz sleeping through the end of a movie, the three of them sharing conversation at dinner once a year, rare laughs...

Luckily, it was an easy 15-minute job to get into the main server. He searched in every folder from the root and uncovered hidden files in Membrane’s laptop. When he saw the folder named D.I.B., his hands stopped, retreating from the keyboard, but only for a moment as he dove back and he cracked his way in. Setting off a logic bomb in the server’s root and two more in Gaz and Membrane’s computers felt right and loosened his chest when he started having trouble breathing again. All they needed was a click or a command in the wrong place at the wrong time for everything on those computers to be obliterated. By then, Dib would be long gone.

He put everything back in his overalls as fast as he could, pulled his device out of the wall circuit, pushed it into his pocket, and ran out of the bathroom. By the time he emerged, the sun was setting and light rain stained the windows at the end of the corridor.

He was in and out of the elevator in a blink, pushing his used cart onto a corner and changing back into his clothes, and wrapped his hand in toilet paper to stop the bleeding he just now noticed was there. Pulling his coat on, he settled everything he’d used into pockets and the backpack with the worn Swollen Eyes symbol. Giving one last glance at the camera and pushing his broken glasses up his nose, he turned and left.

As he walked to the back door, fiddling with the hard drive in his pocket, he said “I quit,” to the coordinator. She barely looked at him, replying an uncaring “Fine, we’ll send your check in the mail.” He threw the access card and clarence badge on the floor as he went for the back door.

...

Hastily driving away, Dib pulled into traffic in a wide maneuver. Other cars honked at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He lowered his window. When the fresh air hit his face, he started taking deep breaths, trying to cope, wary of how desensitized he was.

It all finally came back in a blinding rush at a red light, full throttle. First, the crack of the small skull under his foot, making him nauseated. Short of breath, sweating and feeling as if something had punched him in the chest, Dib had to stop in a Bloaty’s parking lot to puke. He spat up bile mixed with the bits of food he had consumed at lunch.

Later, he found himself gasping for air at the supermarket—standing in line with his six-pack of cheap beer, ignoring his expenses for the month, the unemployment, the encroaching homelessness. Dib was somewhat aware of people taking a step away from him, but he no longer felt like he cared about people…

“It’ll be $4.35.”

Dib threw a ten dollar bill at the cashier and left for his car.

Finally he parked in the suburbs and pulled his laptop out, heart still beating at an irregular pace and a feeling of impending doom clinging to him. Dib silenced his phone, which was already full of missed calls and curse-filled texts from Gaz, asking what the fuck was he thinking?

To be perfectly honest, he had no idea what he was thinking, and he was pretty sure he’d be worried in the morning. It would matter then…

The first file on the D.I.B. folder he’d downloaded opened at the same time Dib managed to open his first beer.

Had he locked his car?

The subject has been incubated to a length of 10 inches—

He should've bought another beer. This fucking thing just evaporated on his lips. Dib threw the bottle out of his car window without a care, watching it shatter onto the sidewalk. Then he went for another one. And then another, and another….

—10 months old, findings show that the mixture in his DNA and enlargement of his head are abnormal—

His feet walked on their own. Where was he even going? Had he locked his car?

—insufficient response to neural stimuli. Subject will be aborted according to protocol ISO—

Ah, right, Zim's, he was going to Zim's house. Great.

Successful incubation for Subject 13. Given name: Dib Membrane.

Dib walked past the gnomes and only then realized he had the backpack in hand. Pulling it up against his chest, he pushed the door open and stepped in.

“TRESPASSER!” screamed GIR, eyes wild, jumping from the couch. Dib flicked a bottle cap onto the floor. The little robot’s eyes went back to an innocuous green, and he let out an insane laugh as he went after it.

Pushing a big red button badly hidden on the wallpaper, he sighed and watched the sofa disarm, giving way to the platform that would take him to the bowels of Zim's base. How the media hadn’t managed to barge into Zim’s house and uncover his evil plans was a wonder to him. Or was it that Dib had special access for some reason?

He wobbled on his feet, fuck, he had drunk that last bottle way too quickly… Dib pressed a hand over his face, feeling too exhausted to give a shit.

Subject 6 died last night of prenatal issues. Autopsy programmed—

"Ugh," he whimpered, and bit his lips as images of open meat, failed organs, blood, and entrails from the failed clones’ autopsies flashed in his mind. Opening his eyes to see the purple lighting of Zim’s lab in contrast to the bright lights of the shaft made him blink slowly.

There was a cannon to his face in a second and Zim hovered on his mechanical limbs, blocking his path.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING, YOU DISGUSTING WORM?” the alien screamed angrily.

Dib stared into his eyes, wanting to collapse in his arms, no matter if he'd find nanobots or devices on him come morning. He craved something for a moment… Just a moment...

But instead he just pushed the cannon aside without comment and crouched to duck between Zim’s mechanical limbs.

“INSOLENT HUMAN, I COULD OBLITERATE YOU FROM YOUR PATHETIC EXISTENCE, WHAT KIND OF RESPECT ARE YOU SHOWING TO YOUR FUTURE OVERLORD!!”

The rant went on and Dib could’ve answered, but he couldn’t find the energy to make the words come out.

He had to do this. Have his little piece of justice.

Almost there, Dib thought as he approached the large incinerating machine Zim had set up at the lower levels of his underground base. He knew Zim often used it to quickly scrap projects that were going nowhere. Looking at a screen that read “Incineration in Process” in Irken, he punched in the command to open the hatch.

Feeling the heat from the closeness, standing there, for a moment Dib thought about just throwing himself in. Ending it all.

Zim's hand reached for Dib’s sleeve, softly holding Dib’s wrist as he threw the backpack. It contained the hard drive, his computer and flash drives. And all that was left of the D.I.B. project files.

Dib sighed, pressing the option to close the incinerator on the screen. There was a deep silence in the room. He could swear Zim's hand was shaking on his wrist,

“Did the Dib just read Irken…?” Zim observed in a whisper, and Dib pulled his glasses off, opening and closing his mouth. Unable to put his grief into words.

Zim caught him as he fell to his knees and Dib caught Zim back, embracing his nemesis and sobbing. Unable to form a single word, he closed his eyes tightly, feeling Zim’s hand on his head and back.

“What is this? Dib, what happened? Zim demands an explanation!”

Dib couldn’t talk. The regret, the pain, the realizations and the implications for what he'd seen and done…it was all too much.

The Invader pulled away, pushing him back. Dib couldn’t make out Zim’s expression thanks to the tears in his eyes.

—defective eyesight. Still he does show the intellectual level demanded—

Dib let out a shaky breath and shook his head. Zim’s hands clawed at his arms and he huffed, pulling Dib back into the embrace. Dib cried harder, afraid that he’d remember Zim’s hands on his neck and rubbing his upper back as he yelled commands to his computer.

Sadness and love heaved in his chest as they always had, battling with self loathing and paranoia from his mind. Because this couldn’t be real and Zim hadn’t just pulled him into a hug, because he was just a disgusting human and didn’t deserve this kindness after everything he’d done. Irkens weren't kind anyway.

But if anyone in this stupid, insane world could understand right now, it had to be Zim.

----

The news anchor droned on with a preoccupied expression.

“The hacker team left a digital mess in their servers, and there’s a suspicion that a specialized team was involved in the operation."

The security head being interviewed spoke up. “We found broken containers and experiments, so it seems it was a team effort. We’ve apprehended a few suspicious individuals already, and questioning will begin shortly.”

"To remind the viewers: Yesterday, Professor Membrane announced that they finally found his long lost son, Dib Membrane. Unfortunately, the young man was found dead and the family is mourning. Is that right, Mr. Heal?" said the anchor, tapping his pen against the papers in front of him.

The old co-host nodded and continued, "That's right, Ken. And on top of having to deal with this grim news, poor Professor Membrane's private laboratory was vandalized. A lot of important research was destroyed, the attack disabled a good chunk of the computers in the building including two main servers and the private computers of both the professor and his daughter, Gaz.”

“The only lead we’ve got at the moment is about a terrorist group interested in stealing Membrane’s top secret research on human development,” the host finished “More on this story as it develops."

There was a picture of a blurred, bloody mass surrounded by glass and what looked like charred dust. Zim's eyes adjusted to the image, and his antennae dropped down as he looked at the reconstructed image of an infant human with its skull flattened and cracked, bloody black hair in a familiar shape.

The Invader sighed in understanding and looked down at the man on his lap, stroking his hair as he slept quietly.

“You made him pay,” he smiled. “Good Dib.”

——-

Pt 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

#ponytail dib au #zadr #zim #dib #invader zim #my art #writing #collab #ty sooovery much to #@syrupwit #for the beta work #@il-allora #for writing half of this #and #@izzydrawsforfun #for the INCREDIBLE art <3 #ty so very much guys #this couldn't have happened without you #<3

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archangel-zadkiel · 3 years ago

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Tw housing situation, wrongful accusations, homophobia, hate crimes, a lot of stuff

I’m being kicked out of my apartment.

They’re (chase equities property management) saying that I’m breaking my lease, which I’ve got signed for 12 months and have been here for almost over 12 months. They only started saying things like this after my partner was almost jumped for my neighbor. For what? Having pink hair and being in his parking space. Which mind you is public parking. Called him a f*ggot, threatened to fight him, threatened to break into my home and kick our asses. After then getting the two separated from each other and telling the man to basically leave and calm down. His girlfriend texts me the next day. My neighbor. With baseless threats, telling me that ‘I don’t know what petty is yet’ that ‘I don’t know who I’m messing with.’ After my having told her I and my partner was disabled. After she said these things to me, I was told (by chase equities property management) to make my guests park on the side. Which I did. The only guests I don’t make park anywhere are my parents.

I’ve now recently been told that I’m breaking my lease by having my partner stay with me, that my home is too dirty (and a fire hazard), that I have an unauthorized animal in my apartment (a service animal that they knew about and I showed them proof papers for), and she’s even trying to make me pay for the costs of fixing the furnace. I was never mailed any of these allegations instead given them all at once. The letter stated that I had gotten them on the 8th of February and up. But checking my mail and email I had gotten nothing. Not even an official letter stating that I need to move out. But fearing eviction I’m leaving.

I guess the moral of this story is don’t trust your landlords no matter how nice they may seem. They’re all snakes and sharks. She doesn’t care about my home situation, she doesn’t care that this is going to have to make me have to move back home where my gender identity and my partners is ignored. And why would she? She’s probably going to make more money somehow anyways. I really just could use some advice i guess?

Because my parents aren’t letting me take my partners service dog with us to their house for temporary housing and I’m really scared and don’t want to give up my partners dog who is now probably worth a small fortune…I’m just really scared.

#help #signal boost #please #I don’t know what to do #emergency

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alexwrekk · 4 years ago

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hi alex! you've been an odd hero of mine online for the past few years. seeing a witch successfully run her own business and be so comfortably confident in herself inspired me a lot when i first started exploring witchcraft a handful of years ago. i wanted to start with that up front. so the main reason i'm writing is i had an idea today that i could open my own shop online selling loose leaf tea blends and bagged teas. when i first started studying magic, i got big into learning about herbs and i discovered i had a deep love for tea. if there is any ability or hobby of mine that i would feel comfortable, iunno, monetizing - it'd be that. so i wanted to ask: a. how did you feel when you came up with your idea for your zine shop? and b. do you wish anyone had given you advice before you got started? thank you in advance and i hope you and yours stay happy and healthy!

Thank you for your kind words! Buckle up because we’re in for a long 20+ year story with a lot of twists and turns...

This is where I started. I was 20 years old in 1997 selling zines out of a box at punk shows.

My advice for everyone starting anything is to start small and grow from there.

Your trajectory isn’t anyone else’s trajectory so don’t compare yourself to other people. Well, you can, but don’t dwell on it because it isn’t helpful and you aren’t trying to be someone else, you are trying to be you. I also don’t really think in terms of “failure” I just think that some things don’t work out, ya know? But you won’t know what those things are until you try them out. If they don’t work, reevaluate and try again or try something new. At first zines were my hobby and I just wanted to share my hobby with people, but opportunities presented themselves along the way.

In 1999 I moved to Portland from Utah, mostly because I knew a bunch of people who were into zines. A friend who had a record distro moved across the country and I helped him out and added selling zines to the mix as well as getting a button machine and starting a custom button business. We dated, married, and grew a business that focused on selling zines, making custom buttons, and publishing books. I realized I was in an abusive marriage and I left the situation after 6 years. I lost the business I had grown for years.

In a way, I started over. But in doing so I could build something on my own terms and ethics which was less sketchy than what I was doing before. “know thyself” in important in any endeavor. I know there is more I can do and I know that I’m holding myself back sometimes, but I also know that not manipulating people or taking advantage of people means I can enjoy myself and sleep well at night.

Not everyone is cut out for self-employment. There is no one to blame if something goes wrong, it is all on you. You have to be timely with everything. I’ve joked that when you are self employed you can work any 100 hours a week you want, and sometimes you can do it in your pajamas! So again “know thyself”. What is reasonable? What are you willing to take on and what are you willing to learn, because you will have to learn. people think “I love doing this thing! I will sell the thing!” but you also have to figure out packaging, shipping, paperwork to register a business, bookkeeping, taxes, website maintenance, logos, etc. and on and on.

So, I started small again selling custom buttons with a new website and taking some of my customers along with me as well as selling my own button designs and my own zines.

The next twist was 9 years ago when a friend was moving back to Portland and he was also a button makers. Instead of being competition, we decided to work together. On top of that, we decided to start a zine distro and open a storefront for selling zines and make custom buttons. We had some difficult talks about starting a business together, we filed paperwork, opened a bank account, built a website, and built as storefront, etc. I really thought we had taking about all the things we need to talk about. Still after I thought I had covered all my based, six months in he says he thought we would be making more money and he split town leaving work undone while I was out of the country on a trip I’d planned for years and he pretty much ruined my trip.

So, I started again. I changed things to suit me and my life. I moved from the storefront because drop in customers were frustrating when they expected buttons on the spot. I moved into a secure shared warehouse so people had to arrange to drop by, which suited me really well. I brought my partner on to help and I started expanding the zines to add books. When I realized I could just order books from the book distributor I started adding witchcraft and magic books that I liked. Which was just in time for our website revamp and then the pandemic. So, when books and zines were 10% of of business and custom buttons 90% all of a sudden it flipped to the other way round. This is why being flexible is so important. At the same time all this happened we were informed that we were all being evicted from out warehouse due to negligence of of the caretaker. Again, we were able to be flexible and move back into out home.

Some people might see these things as failures, but it’s just being flexible and creative and trying new things that feel like they suit the situation better.

One thing I will say is that with zines I’ve been writing about my life and sharing things for almost 25 years. For me, my work is part of me and that can sometimes be frustrating. but again, “know thyself” know what makes you feel safe and what makes you excited or happy. Create boundaries and keep some things to yourself. People like to know the personality of the people behind things that are created. When people buy your product they are also buying your story and they are becoming part of that story. Don’t be afraid to let your personality shine through, but also keep some of it for yourself and those that know you in real life. I think this has become more important in a social media era, both the personality and the boundaries. There’s a balance and a fine line sometimes between expressing your general frustrations and broadcasting specific frustrations. Man, I’d love to rant about some of my shitty/confusing/mean customer but I learned a long time ago to keep those things close.

Lastly, some mundane advice. While I’m a fan of scrappy punk stuff, I also see value in professionalism as regards to packaging, logos, photos, etc. I think it is important to figure those things out and to let your personality shine through in a way that is accessible to others.

I hope that made sense.

#avelanna

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oooooocheshirecuntoooooo · 4 years ago

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In the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere ..... Oh the adventures we had with a hooker. All. Night. Long. 😂

It involves me, my husband, our 18 & 3 year old daughters, a cop and the hooker ... oh and a store clerk and her son. And for real. All night from like 12:30am to 7 am. And now I am home, but without the van and three of the kids didn’t make it home with us.

The following story is absolutely, 100% true. Although it’s not the kind of exciting you’re used to hearing from me, it’s still pretty bizarre. 😂

Just to give a little back story to help paint a clear picture .... So, we always go to my in laws for Christmas but we usually only stay maybe 3-6 days or so depending on how things fall together. This year we decided to stay through New Years because of some drama back at our home. My mother lives on our property and is mentally ill, and we’re pretty sure dementia is setting in. She’s never been an easy person to be around and we have always fought constantly but I have tried to take care of her anyway because she’s the only mom I’ve got, ya know? The last couple years though she’s gotten a lot more aggressive. In July she assaulted her doctor over the mask requirement and even had to go to court over it. Then in august she assaulted me, tried to choke me to death in my own home and in front of my kids. Of course I over powered her and forcefully pushed her out of my house, so yes she sustained bruises and such from that but that’s the extent of it. (She told all of Facebook in a public post that I beat her up every day and that kind of thing. She posts almost every day that she’s being abused, etc. Shes called the police at least 4times in three months. She tried to accuse me of elder abuse and even said I neglect and abuse my kids. Four times they have come out and investigated and not only said they see no signs of child or elder abuse, or anything to backup her claims. They talked to the kids and quickly agreed they were all fine too.

So fast forward to Christmas Eve. We were trying to load up the van to leave for our trip. We couldn’t hardly get it done because she was hounding us so much. When we were done I sent the kids to the car while hubby and I grabbed the last few bags. I blinked and she was charging toward the kids and yelling things at them like “you’re going to be a whore like your mom when you grow up. You wanna suck dick for a living?” And “I hope you die slowly and are alone and afraid for hours before you die.” The oldest child there that day was 12. And no, I’ve never worked in prostitution before. She began to charge toward me when I yelled at her to get away from the kids. Hubby told her to go back in her house and she wouldn’t. Kept coming toward us. So he pulled out his pistol, didn’t cock it or anything, and said again to go back in her house. So she called the police again .... 🙄

So we stayed longer trying to talk to the family lawyer and get a game plan. We’re following through with pressing assault charges so I can get a restraining order, and we’re filing for eviction. So we got all packed and ready to go and noticed liquid under the van. The power steering pump went out and the line busted all over everything. So that set us back another couple of days but we got the line and the pump replaced and tested everything and it looked good. It was late but we decided to set out anyway. We knew we’d get in late but the advantage to that was my crazy mother would be asleep and we could at least get in and unload the van in peace.

About 12:30 the battery light came on and we weren’t near ANYTHING. Somehow we made it another 20 miles or so until we got to a small town we’ve never stopped in before. We stopped at a gas station and barely got in the lot when it died. Hubby tinkered with some things and it looks like the alternator. Apparently some power steering fluid got in it when it busted but we couldn’t see that at the time, including the mechanic neighbor friend helping with it.

So we’re an hour and a half from home and totally stranded in the middle of the night with, thankfully, only two of our kids - the 18 & 3 year old. We make the calls for roadside assistance and I begin calling everyone I know that might can come help us. It’s freezing and none of us packed coats because it’s not usually this cold down here this early in winter. Hubby was wearing shorts even. So we take turns going in the store and sitting in the van with our things - there’s a large fully loaded cargo bag on the roof and a bike rack with two bikes on the back. Figured if we left it alone for a long time those things at least would disappear, essentially given the atmosphere of the place.

In all the moving around and the cashier asking questions and getting to know us and the situation we were in, this big eyed, buck toothed, scraggly little older, black lady who looked like she hasn’t bathed in years starts talking to hubby about what’s wrong with the van. He goes back to tinker with it often hoping he’s wrong about the alternator or that he missed a loose connection - anything that might help us get out of here l, if not home. I am watching cars like a hawk because you wouldn’t believe how many would pull in, loop the parking lot while staring at us and leave again. It started feeling like sharks circling and a feeding frenzy building up. So I’m on edge and I make sure the pistol is within reach at all times. So this little trashy lady keeps talking to him about the mechanics and trying to troubleshoot it. Lemme pain a more accurate picture: this spun out little crack whore was chasing the dragon, looking for it inside the oil reserve, the transmission fluid ..... she keeps pulling out the dipsticks, shaking them like a Polaroid picture and slinging fluids everywhere and then says “I think it’s your starter.”

No doubt she’s trying to hustle some cash and once even asked for some gas money when’s we see the car she rode in pull away and leave her there. She said it was her brother. After awhile, hubby has had enough. He’s usually pretty patient with people who are too fucked up to reach reality but this isn’t the time for all that. Not only is she a hindrance, she keeps snatching his tools and once even his phone out of his hands. I was in the car and I heard him yell “carry your ass already!” If he’s talking to even an annoying stranger like that, I know shit is hitting the fan. Me? I’m Irish. I would’ve done popped off at her which is why I was avoiding her completely. So I got out and joined him and started yelling at her to fuck off. She will take a few steps away and come back but she does finally go all the way back in the store, both of us cussing her the whole way. I blink and she back in his face again. She keeps saying random shit like “anything you can do I can do better” and “I helped you and you just turn me away. That’s not what the Bible says” and “God got me. I don’t need you. I pray for you”

I’m beyond pissed. I’m cold —- and I loath being cold — and I’m tired, it’s now like 2:30 or 3, I’m feeling vulnerable just by being broke down and especially with the toddler who can’t do anything to protect herself or understand what’s going on and who is extremely sensitive to any type of anger or tension (she cries hysterically when her siblings tickle fight or pillow fight and are laughing) and with all I’ve been dealing with with my mom lately I just have no give a shit left in me. So I jump out and say loudly “should I get the gun for you?” He said “it’s starting to look like it.” And I handed it to him and he put it in his pocket - more just wanting to communicate and it wanting to draw on her because that could invite charges for him potentially and we already have enough legal drama waiting at home. She slowly starts walking backward and keeps running her mouth. I forget what she said but she flipped my bitch switch again and I found myself screaming “Don’t make me cut a bitch!”

She said “what did you say?” And I pulled out my pretty pink and Pearl, large and extremely sharp pocket knife and extended the blade, “I said if you don’t carry your ass I WILL cut a bitch!” She nodded that smug kind of nod and kept going, “aaaiiignt”

The car that brought her there and left came back. She got in it and it left, stopped about 20 feet from the parking lot and she appeared to be forcefully shoved out from the way she rolled in the grass. But she goes walking the other direction so we figured she was gone. Meanwhile though in that amount of time I already dialed 911. The operator connected me to the local station and I spoke to dispatch. I kid you not, less than 60 seconds later an officer was there. We later learned he parks in a dark spot across the street of this divided highway. He even saw some of the commotion but couldn’t tell from the angle that it was heated. He tells us all about her, how she’s the local “hooker” / crack whore, along with her sister and mother. When I said we could tell she was drunk or inebriated or something he said, “more like high as a kite in with a jet pack!” I have seen a lot of people high in my years but I’ve never seen anyone act like she was so I asked, “On what?” He just shrugged “likely a combination of things. She’s a non discernment, equal opportunity junkie.”

Would you believe she showed up again while he’s talking to us? She tried to act like they were friends “hey! I know you. You’re married to my kin ...” He kinda yells at her and smirks “you a damn lie and you know it. I’m not even married.” Tim and I both glanced at his hands, his wedding band plainly visible. I got back in the van because my teeth are chattering so bad I can’t speak anyway. He puts her in the back of his car and talks to my husband again. He tells him he’s use to her and is going to take her to a relatives house where she goes when she needs to sleep it off for a day or two. He leaves and about 20 minutes later he’s back. Apparently he almost ran out of gas and he wanted to check in on us again. The jokes flew about how awkward that would look if he ran out of gas and was on the side of the road with the town hooker and all. He was a really nice guy and stayed with us most of the rest of the night. He said he got off at 7 and if we still didn’t have any help to give him a call, giving us his cell number.

So, at the same time I’m trying to get something done about the tow truck that needs to come get the van and find someone to come get us. The first wrecker — BROKE DOWN ON THE WAY TO PICK US UP! I was starting to feel cursed! The second wasn’t informed this would be a “long haul” tow and he only does local. Third times the charm right? Apparently so this time. He was a nice guy as well and took extra steps to keep the bikes and things secure on the trip.

We even had talked to hubby’s parents when we very first broke down. They were asleep but I was able to text my kids that stayed behind to spend another day or two with them, and they were coming up anyway to do some work on the property up here and file the eviction. So the boy, who will be 11 tomorrow, and the 12yo girl woke them up and told them we broke down. Apparently the 8 year old had already gone to sleep. His parents got up and talked to us and they were like, we’ll work on it and let me know what you find out. What the insurance company will do. So when the tow truck showed up, at 4:30, we asked if one of them could come get us because all the insurance company said was “MAYBE a supervisor could make an allowance for a Lyft or something like that but it didn’t seem a highly probable option. I realize we were 3 hours from his parents but they got up and stayed up from the first time we called and father in law could’ve gotten us and most of our stuff in the van and gotten us home, and him back to his house, before lunch and then slept or done whatever work he felt was more important than our safety. I’m kinda ticked about that. So we get what things we can’t live without immediately and head into the store to wait for a solution to arise, or friends to wake up! I was the last one going in and I was shivering so bad I dropped the things in my hands. I bent down to pick them up when two large shoes stepped in to my view, directly in front of me.

I stand up and then continue looking up to find the eyes looking back at me - a huge ‘cornfed’ red neck man who almost is convincing at appearing to be tough as nails, but I see the gentle kindness in him immediately. However, when he named the itty bitty, no red light havin’ isolated little farm town we live in I was flabbergasted. I actually stuttered and just made noise instead of words when I tried to respond. He even chuckled and playfully’ mocked’ me but was even kind about it. It was more like he got a kick out of how taken off guard I was. He said “Do y’all need a ride to (hometown)?” in that extremely slow, drawn out way the redneck Southerns do. In a minute I nodded and said “How do you know that?” I continued walking in the store as I spoke and of course he followed and opened the door for me. Hubby had run back and flagged down the tow truck before it left, remembering the car seat was left in it and that would be essential to getting us home. He had already talked to the man but j didn’t know that. In fact, in all the in and out that night hubby and my older daughter had told the cashier bits and pieces of the situation and it hit a point where she realized help wasn’t coming very fast and didn’t want to see any more trouble fall on us like with the oh so classy hooker we had already met. So she called her son, knowing this was the kind of thing he was always looking to do. He kept telling us that he just really liked to drive and it was no big deal and that he had time to get us there and back home before work even. After debating over it for what felt like hours but was probably only 5 minutes hubby and I decided it was probably the smartest option. He usually has a pretty keen sense of a persons character pretty quickly and so does my 18 year old - although it still needs to be fine tuned a bit but that will come with time, maturity, and unfortunately, heartbreak. We felt like we had a read on the kind, older lady cashier too and she even said “It’s ok. He’s my son. He’s not gonna hurt you or anybody that doesn’t try to hurt him first.”, laughing the last few words out and the glances between them revealing some inside joke / event. So we went ahead and got in his little car - which was more like a jumbo Geo Tracker and I honestly wondered how he ever fit inside. It wasn’t the best looking thing, kinda shabby and needing a lot of TLC, but for us it may as well have been luxury. It was a diamond in the rough, symbolic of the man who offered to drive us an hour and a half to get us home, and then back, before he went to work that day. By the time we got him we knew his life story - 33 and already a survivor of the heart attack they call ‘the widow maker’. We instantly fell in and we’re good friends. By the time we got home - at 7am - we hated to see him go. Of course we had a little Christmas gift cash on us and gave him a little something for his trouble, especially since he wouldn’t come in and let me make him something for breakfast. As I hugged him bye I told him “I will forever call you ‘My Angel Michael’. He said, “Well thank you ma’am. It was my pleasure.” and with that, he drove away.

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samingtonwilson · 5 years ago

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Apartment 8C - Chapter 3

Getting Back in the Game

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language, lil bit angsty

A/N: this isn’t the best thing i’ve ever written by a long shot but i promised i’d upload it soon and i’m sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter.

He stumbles over his own feet. The toe of his sneaker smashes into the first stair. He very nearly drops the floral thermos he's filled with coffee.

All because of the smile you offer him as he walks through the door. Warm in the chilly lecture hall, bright but surrounded by dusty seats with fraying upholstery.

You pay no attention to what Wanda says— a nod every few seconds, a smile when words sound vaguely positive. She gesticulates animatedly, the water in her glass bottle resembles a cyclone held between electric green nails, and you laugh when she does.

Your eyes follow Bucky as he climbs the steps, so he walks slowly. Carefully. With attempted grace. He thinks he might hear the slither of a snail as it overtakes him.

Grinning at his almost calculated approach, you nod to his hand once Wanda finishes her story. “S’a nice thermos you’ve got there.”

“Very pretty,” Wanda, taking a peach slice from the Ziploc bag you hold, agrees. As she gives Bucky a thorough once-over, she presses a finger to her lips in supposed thought. “Extremely contradictory aesthetic, though.”

You hum. You lean back when he stands beside you in the aisle, your own gaze tracing the length of him. There’s humor and exhaustion in your eyes, a joke and hours of lost sleep in a light pink tint. “I don’t know. I like the Greaser look with a touch of innocent Sandra Dee.”

The roll of his eyes is long-suffering. “I couldn’t get on the subway with any of my mugs. I made that mistake once and won’t make it again.”

Wanda looks between the two of you as you laugh and Bucky scowls, her dark brows furrowed. “What? Did you spill or something?”

Still laughing despite a soft wince, you take hold of Bucky’s hand when he pinches your side in retaliation. You struggle as he tries to break from your grasp. “We were on the Q train and some guy threw his cigarette butt—” you’re cut off by your loud squeak when Bucky manages to slip his hand out of yours and pinches your side again. He then takes your bag of peaches for himself. “Bucky!”

He takes a slice out in a pointed fashion, his bite purposefully obnoxious. Mouth full, he continues for you. “He threw his cigarette butt into my coffee.”

Giggling at the way Bucky holds the bag above his head when you attempt to reach for it, Wanda asks, “Like on purpose?”

You jump twice only for Bucky to swing the bag to the left then the right, just out of reach. He smiles at the effort deepening your frown, the warmth of your frustration welcome against the blasting air conditioning.

You pout and cross your arms over your chest after one last attempt.

He groans preemptively.

He knows that look. He hates that look.

“You could’ve just asked for the peaches. I would’ve given them to you,” you— your voice breaking and lilting in sadness as you look at him through your eyelashes— say. You try not to smile at Wanda’s exasperated laughter and Bucky’s arm slowly lowering, and instead continue pouting. “I guess it’s okay.”

Bucky blinks. He looks to Wanda, his eyes wide, then back at you. With the knowledge of a two-year friendship and four month romantic relationship, he knows you’re fucking with him. But it’s the look— pouty glossed lips, gazing through mascaraed lashes, eyes puppy-wide. It tightens and tears something in his chest. Every single goddamn time.

He fights the urge to take you in his arms and immediately thrusts the plastic bag in your direction. His voice is almost a whimper as he says, “Please just take it. Never look at me like that again.”

“He’s so easy, isn’t he?” you ask Wanda, grinning as you take a bite of a slice and pat Bucky’s cheek with your free hand. You ignore his frown. “Also, yes, the Q train guy did it on purpose. He said, ‘Got a little something for you, pretty boy’ and threw it in. Then he winked at me and Bucky almost decked him right there at Canal Street station.”

Though he’s still focused on quelling what his ego has deemed sympathy heartache, Bucky nods in confirmation. “Yeah, he fucked up my coffee then tried to hit on my girlfriend right in front of me.”

“You were a protective boyfriend so I’m surprised he made it out alive,” Wanda comments as she checks her phone and your attention drifts when the door opens so more students from the upcoming lecture can slowly trickle in.

Wanda shrugs when she looks up to see Bucky’s slightly confused expression. “Not overly. Nicely. Concerned for her safety, always looking out for her, having her back.”

“She’s right,” you add absentmindedly as you look at the analog clock bolted to the wall behind her. “When does your lecture start?”

“Two or three minutes,” he replies after glancing at the clock himself. “See you at home?”

“Actually,” your voice trails, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, in thought. “I’m gonna stay.”

“For my econ lecture?”

“I want to talk to you and Wanda’s going to the library, right?” When Wanda nods, you continue, “I also don’t want to deal with the subway alone at rush hour.”

With a wave to Wanda, you turn back to Bucky and wag your eyebrows playfully. “Show me where you sit.”

In the three weeks that he has been attending economics lecture, it has never been Bucky’s favorite class. The subject matter is dense and dull, half of the students are over-eager freshmen, and the professor assigns far too much reading for a class he’s taking as a G.E..

But, as you fall into a chair toward the center of the hall beside his aisle seat, it’s brighter. Today, he doesn’t mind the group of girls that giggle about sorority gossip and the water polo jock whining about his GPA requirement.

He snorts when you pull your laptop from your bag and set it on the collapsable desk. “You gonna take notes?”

“I need to look the part. Can’t let the professor think I’m just here to talk to you.”

“I’m not being evicted, am I?”

“Not quite yet.” You open the bookmark folder in your browser labeled CLOTHES FOR FALL. “Forget the words as soon as they leave my mouth, okay? I just miss you. We’re never at the apartment at the same time.”

He smiles. “Wow, you? Admitting that you miss me? Am I dying?”

“Didn’t I tell you to forget the words?” despite your tone, your lips are struggling against a smile. “But, no, you aren’t dying. I might be, though. Explains why I’d admit something like that.”

As the professor— a short man with thinning brown hair and a matching sweater— steps behind his podium, you look over the room. You’re visibly dissatisfied with what you see. “Is everyone here, like, twelve years old?”

“It’s mostly underclassmen.”

“See? This is what happens when you don’t listen to your beautiful roommate slash ex-girlfriend when she tells you to finish your G.E.’s over the summer.”

“I was too busy with you this summer.”

“Yeah? Am I that much of a handful?”

“Sweetheart, you’d be surprised how much more I get done these days.”

Your laughter inspires a bit of his own, the two of you pulling your feet toward yourselves as one of Bucky’s classmates— the only other upperclassman who he usually sits beside— attempts to pass through. He sends you a smile as he takes the seat at your other side.

He leans in when the professor begins lecturing, PowerPoint presentation projected over the canvas screen, but not so close that you feel uncomfortable— just enough to whisper audibly. “You took my seat.”

“Don’t make me say ‘I don’t see your name on it’ like some bad 90’s bully.”

A bright smile wrinkles otherwise incredibly smooth mahogany skin. He holds his hand out for you to take. “T’Challa. You just add this class?”

You tell him your name and cock an eyebrow, giving his large hand a single shake. “Do you know everyone who’s been in this class from the start?”

“No, but I think I’d remember you.”

Bucky holds his breath when you pause and the tip of his pen slips to carve a stray mark into his notebook when you laugh. He narrows his eyes at the screen as you whisper-yell, “You didn’t just say that! Oh, that’s so bad. I thought you’d be better than that.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” T’Challa grins. He has yet to type any notes onto his Word document while Bucky has copied every word on each slide verbatim. Both have retained absolutely no information. “It’ll grow on you.”

“Doubt it. But I appreciate the confidence.”

He leans over again, elbows on your shared armrest to look at your laptop screen. He sighs playfully. “Are you shopping? Come on now. You gotta pay attention.”

“What about you, huh?” You shove T’Challa back onto his side, laughing hard enough to earn a glare from the bespeckled freshman seated in front of you— Bucky offers the kid a shrug. “Get outta here. You’re actually enrolled in this class.”

“What, you’re not? Who chooses to sit in on an econ class?”

You giggle and Bucky misspells “achievement.” “I wanted to spend time with someone.”

“But we just met.”

“Jesus, you’re terrible. You must be a student athlete.”

A dark eyebrow lifts. “How’d you guess that?”

“Well, for one, I’m incredibly intuitive.” You, without turning to face him, pinch Bucky’s arm when he snorts. “Secondly, all student athletes are full of themselves. And, third, you’re wearing your soccer team hoodie.”

T’Challa looks down at his deep purple sweatshirt and laughs. “Not sure if I should be offended or embarrassed.”

“I’d be both if I were in your place.”

Bucky wants to drown out the giggles and whispers to his left, the rumbles of T’Challa’s deep voice and the soft lilt of yours. But the professor is too monotone and the material is too dry.

And it isn’t like he’s jealous. He truly isn’t.

It’s a different emotion entirely. A confusing one. One which, while outlined in an altruistic happiness at the sight of your any joy, feels achingly close to heartbreak all over again.

—

The glow from dim overhead bulbs and icicle string lights bounces off the bottle cap rendition of Starry Night and illuminates tin ceiling tiles, the reflected flecks cast against the dark brick walls and slowly filling walnut hued wood tables like glitter. One wall is covered entirely with napkin self-portraits and landscapes, still life and crayon impressionist renditions of Raju behind the bar.

You’re sure it’ll take some sifting to reach the last drawing you took your time to add to the cluttered gallery and you’re sure Bucky is thankful for that fact. He hadn’t enjoyed your interpretation of his flushed drunken features done entirely in the firetruck red lipstick you’d found at the bottom of your bag.

But that hadn’t stopped you from smearing a bit of the gaudy color onto your lips and pressing a kiss to the drawing and the subject himself, giggling when he’d mumbled something about telling his girlfriend that you’d just attempted to defile him.

You pass the wall without an attempt at excavation and follow the sound of Sam’s voice pitched lower than usual. He emparts what seems like instructions and encouragement, his head downturned as he stands beside a seated Bucky. Steve sits on Bucky’s other side but stops listening and periodically nodding as you grow closer.

“Why does it look like the three of you are scheming?”

Sam’s head snaps up. His brown eyes are wide. Caught in the headlights of your curious smile and cocked eyebrow.

He allows silence to pass through for an awkward beat, punctuated by the release of a breath he’d been holding, his eyes on you again after he’d glanced at Bucky and Steve helplessly. “Fuck, I’m not sure what to say here.”

“You can tell her,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes, more storm grey than blue in the limited lighting. He smiles at you in greeting as you take the stool beside Steve’s. “We agreed we wouldn’t mind.”

You nod instantly. “Yeah, we did.”

Steve snorts into his beer bottle as he takes a long sip. “You don’t even know what he’s referring to.”

“Well, whatever it is, if Bucky says we agreed we wouldn’t mind then we agreed we wouldn’t mind.” A bottle matching Steve’s is placed before you. You nod your thanks to Raju as he pops the cap with a soft metallic clink. “Besides, I can put two and two together. At the bar. Giving Bucky what looks like an inspirational speech. He’s wearing his ‘look at me’ jeans.”

“I’ll ask,” Sam says when Steve casts him a bemused look. He looks at you then, lips curved a barely contained smile even as he peers at Bucky. “His ‘look at me’ jeans?”

“The jeans that make his ass look like a ripe peach.” Your giggles, in response to the incredulous looks you receive, is laced through the cracking of a peanut shell between your fingertips. You toss the unshelled peanut into your mouth and snort. “Don’t look at me like that just for appreciating a nice ass. Not when I was told someone wanted to bounce a quarter off mine.”

A tense pause before Steve smacks a fist against Bucky’s shoulder. His outraged expression doesn’t falter even as Bucky winces. All the while Sam roars in laughter. “What the hell, man? You told her?”

“I tell her everything,” is Bucky’s mumbled reply. He drains what’s left of his beer. “You said that freshman year and I told her a month ago. The statute of limitations had run out.”

Steve scoffs, shakes his head. Thoroughly unimpressed with the two of you as you exchange chuckles and small smiles. “Whatever, jerk. See if I keep your secrets next time.”

“Who you gonna tell?” Sam asks as he smashes an empty shell under his quarter-empty bottle of beer. “Your left hand when you’re pretending it’s someone else?”

The tips of Steve’s ears turn red almost immediately, the sip he’d just taken a choking hazard. He narrows icy blue eyes at a smirking Sam and a laughing Bucky, excusing you from the bulk of his frustration even as you hide your laughter miserably. “Dead to me, both of you.”

A snort from Bucky. “Okay, drama queen.”

Steve turns to you. More annoyed than scandalized now. “I see why you dumped him.”

“Didn’t dump him.” You set your elbow on the bar, ignoring the way your sweater sticks to the counter, and rest your chin on your palm. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when Bucky needs help getting laid.”

“I’m reformed,” Bucky mumbles, fingernails picking at the paper label on his bottle as he smiles to himself. “Not really lookin’ to just get laid.”

“Yeah? What are you looking to do?”

He shrugs. “Maybe go on a date or something. Meet someone nice I can actually talk to.”

You pause, peanut shell halfway cracked under the heel of your palm. You feel your playful smile grow a bit tight. “That’s new. What brought that on?”

“Well, you did.”

You crush the shell so the crumbled pieces litter the wooden counter. Using your fingernail, you split a peanut into equal halves, then jagged quarters. You resist the urge to scoff at the reflection in your bottle and lift an eyebrow at Bucky when you look up again. “What’d I do?”

He shrugs. His smile is small. “I liked what we had. It wasn’t what I’m used to. I liked being able to have a conversation and a closeness in addition to… everything else.”

Sam looks between the two of you and you’re afraid he might read too much into the way your lips have fallen into a frown, the way the grip on your drink has tightened. Instead, he asks as he takes a sip, “In addition to the sex?”

“Obviously in addition to the sex,” Bucky says as he fixes Sam with a plain expression, eyes narrowed. “I was trying to keep this conversation ‘safe for work.’”

“Yeah, that went out the window when Sam made the masturbation joke,” Steve notes. He asks Raju for another drink and chubby fingers place a matching bottle before him. “I think the change is nice. No more of this nonsense hook-up culture today’s generation is so overtaken by.”

Your brow furrows. “Uh, Gramps?” You only wait until Steve meets your gaze to continue. He’s already scowling. “You’re a part of today’s generation.”

“Steve is one of those people,” Sam begins. “You know, the ‘I’m not like other girls’ kinda people.”

Bucky nods. “He’s just waiting to grow into his personality.”

You hum in agreement next. “Until it’s socially acceptable to be the way he is.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve holds his hands up. “No one informed me today was going to be devoted to roasting me.”

There’s laughter and the insults none of you really mean ensue even as Natasha walks in, the bar now slightly fuller, nearly an hour later. She joins in seamlessly, picking up on the latest thing about Steve you’ve all targeted with just a minute of silent observation. She picks up on something else, though— something she doesn’t bring up until the two of you have retired to a corner booth away from the new crowd of patrons screaming drink orders at a never-flustered, ever-calm Raju.

She stares first. Green eyes set in a contemplative glare, lips in a neutral line. Her fingers lay casually over the rim of her tall, narrow glass. You pay her no mind, however. Your gaze is fixed on Bucky as he walks toward a small group of girls you think you might have seen on campus. “This is killing you.”

“What, drinking?” you ask without so much as a glance in her direction. You’d switched out beer for something a bit stronger but have yet to take a sip of it, a rum and coke watered down now by melting ice. You tear your eyes from Bucky, with noticeable hesitation and dissatisfaction, when a short brunette with springy curls giggles at what he’s just said to her. “You’re drinking, too.”

The glare becomes disbelieving. She watches as your stare returns to Bucky and you absentmindedly stir your straw through your drink. “We both know I’m not talking about drinking.”

A questioning hum. You avert your eyes when the brunette and Bucky begin to laugh again.

“How are you doing with Bucky?”

“Like, as roommates? Fine. He could check the mail every so often.”

Natasha sighs your name. There’s an undercurrent of frustration cutting through her tone. “Are we going to spend this night acting oblivious?”

“Oblivious to what?” you laugh in a bit of surprise. You withhold a shudder of disgust as you take a sip of your drink.

She rolls her eyes, enunciating her words carefully as she asks, “How are you doing with Bucky flirting with that sorority girl over there?”

You follow her nod and only let your eyes linger on them for a second. The straw bends in between your fingers and you shrug. “I’m doing okay with it.”

“You’re okay with him flirting with her right in front of you?”

“Yes, Nat.”

She watches as you twist the straw, but nods. “Okay.”

Snorting with an eye roll of your own, you shake your head. “You couldn’t sound less convinced if you tried.”

“Because I’m not convinced.” She sits back against the booth. “It has to bother you a little that Barnes is trying to get laid fifty feet away from you.”

“Didn’t you hear? He isn’t trying to get laid. He wants someone he can talk to, and date, and have closeness with.”

“Wow. Looks like someone’s maturing,” her voice remains utterly unimpressed.

There’s a silent beat as you look at them again. Bucky’s smile seems to reflect and brighten every light in the bar, slate blue eyes meeting yours for just a moment. “I think I’m happy for him.”

“You think you’re happy for him?”

It’s quiet again as you sit back as well. Teeth worrying at your bottom lip, you nod. “I kind of owe it to him, don’t I? To let him flirt with people in front of me and tell me how he’s looking for a relationship rather than just sex.”

“Why would you owe that to him?”

“You know that guy from the soccer team I’ve been talking to?” You wait until she nods to continue. “He asked for my number when Bucky was, like, ten feet away.”

“Yikes. But you didn’t actively seek him out.”

“No, I didn’t. But even if T’Challa hadn’t asked for my number, I’d still owe him. I mean, I was the shittiest girlfriend you can imagine,” you tell her with a sad smile. “I did everything wrong.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “You didn’t… You didn’t che—”

“No! God, no. I didn’t cheat on him. I could never even entertain the idea,” you say quickly, hands held up in innocence. “I just— I was detached, and aloof, and I didn’t value him at all. I made jokes about us dating but platonically, I would leave his room in the middle of the night to go back to mine. I thought kissing him each time I left the apartment was too mushy and telling him how much I fucking adored him would make me too sappy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little sappy.”

Your nose wrinkles. “I know. But he’s my best friend. I can’t lose my best friend because I’m too emotionally constipated to be in a functional romantic relationship and too selfish to end it all before someone gets too hurt.”

She sets her hand on yours when your voice breaks and offers you a playful smile when you look at her. “And here I thought I was your best friend.”

Wet laughter, and your head lolls back against the booth cushion. “Best friend is not a person. It’s a tier.” You hear his laughter over the commotion of the bar and sigh. “I’m over it and I’m happy for him. He should be happy. Even if it’s with fucking Connie from freshman year sociology.”

Natasha’s hand comes down on the table and rattles her glass and yours, smiling to herself when you jump. “That’s how I know her! Fuckin’ Connie with the stink eye.”

“She’s been into him since then, you know?” You laugh when Natasha offers you an incredulous expression. “Yeah, she got hammered at one of Sam’s parties and told me. I lived in fear of her wrath after Bucky and I got together.”

“She’d destroy you. The smaller ones go for the eyes and you’re all talk.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of that.”

CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST, FIRST DATE

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #a8c

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