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babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

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Building a Home

Simon’s mom tells him if the life he would have, Simon will come to see she was right.

“This is a place where I don’t feel alone. This is a place where I feel at home.”

A/N: Listen will never stop thinking of stories with her art @ave661 😭✋🏼

Warnings: fluff, angst, childhood trauma, trauma, soft!simon, small mentions of smut, mentions of death, husband!simon, dad!simon, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

“Simon,” Simon turned to look at his mom. Her gray hair coming out more as so her wrinkles. Simon came over to her home to visit before he had to leave for deployment. He hummed to let her know he heard her. She placed her tea down before turning fully to him. “You need to find ya a girl.”

Simon rolled his eyes, topic of conversation after Tommy had Joseph. “Mum,” He moaned setting his tea next to her on the shared table next to them. She loves sitting out on her porch in the middle of the day. It felt nice during the fall, where the weather would be that nice warm that would go to cold eventually. “We ‘ren’t talking ‘bout this.”

“We need to,” She chuckled. “Ya not gonna stay old for long.”

Simon shook his head. “Mum really I don’t need a woman.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh I didn’t realize that it wasn’t women,” Simon raised an eye brow to her. “I always thought it was only women.”

Simon choked on his tea. “No it’s not that mum,” He groaned rolling his eyes. “Probably would be easier.” He mumbled.

She chuckled. “It’s the same no matter if it was a man or woman,” They both chuckled before she sighed. “Really Simon, you need to find you a young lady. Would love to see both my sons married. That they would be taken care of.”

Simon sighed. “Right now isn’t the time.”

His mom looked at him and nodded. “It will come without you knowing it.”

Simon didn’t believe her when she said that. Especially when she died he didn’t believe her. No one could love Simon Riley, he was a cold hearted monster. Who’s hands weren’t as innocent as it was then. No one would want to touch him to become as dark as he was.

Simon barely got close to anyone, too afraid of losing someone. It always happened, nothing went right for Simon. Once he got close or happy it would be snapped away from him, like he didn’t deserve it. So why put himself in a situation where he could potentially get close?

At work Johnny would try to be friends with him but he would bat him off. Still Johny does of course taking it as a challenge but Simon is a stubborn one. Price even warned Soap about how he might be buried if he kept trying. New recruits would call him ‘SUTA’ which he figured out it was ‘stick up the ass.’

So he never believed his mother no woman would love a man that was considered a cold hearted man that couldn’t be thawed. Which he was fine with, he loved being alone. He got used to being alone.

Yet you came along for the ride. You were this woman that came up to him at a grocery store, asking for help to reach an item. You weren’t scared of him. Timid. You made eye contact, curiously watching him. Simon even didn’t say a word as he did the service for you. It didn’t even make him bat an eye at you until; you made a joke about how short you were saying there wasn’t counters to hop on.

Simon then joked with you about how you could have climbed the shelves like a monkey. You laughed, making his stomach turn and his heart beat faster. Both of you talked in the aisle until you said that both of you should finish the conversation with a drink. Simon agreed.

“Ya always say that.” He grumbled grabbing his tea once more.

His mom grabbed her tea as well taking a sip. “That’s what happened with Tommy.”

Simon sighed, before looking forward at the scenic view. “Tommy is a better man mum.”

“Says the one who got him out of his rut,” She mumbled eyeing him. “Says the one who cut their father out his life including his families,” Simon looked at her narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you dare say that ya are not Simon Riley.” Simon sighed looking away. “Ya too hard on yourself.”

Simon took a sip of his tea. “Well it is what it is.”

“Ya stubborn is what that is.” She commented chuckling. “Ya get it from me.”

Simon huffed amused. “Lucky me.”

It was silent for a moment. “I’m gonna say this last time Simon,” She spoke looking at him. “Ya gonna have a beautiful wife that can handle ya stubborn mind, with a beautiful baby that will get that stubborn head, and a beautiful house.”

Simon chuckled. “Will I get a stubborn mutt too?”

“Oh you would have to,” Both of them laughed as she smiled at him. “Ya come to me to thank me. To say I was right.”

Simon didn’t expect it. Just his team, your family, him, and you. The wedding dress close to your body, the smile plastered on your face. The tears slipping out of his eyes as you walked towards him.

You looked like you came from heaven itself. Your hair curled just the way you liked it, the make up simple and barely noticeable, and that fucking smile. Happy. You kept up with his stubborn ass for 5 years before he proposed.

5 years of being patient with him, he wasn’t the best boyfriend at the beginning. He didn’t know how to be. Physical touch was never a thing for a very long time. You thought at first he hated you but realized that the other things he did showed his care. He didn’t even kiss you until 9 months into the relationship. He didn’t say I love you, the actual sentence until 3 years in the relationship. You both didn’t have sex until 7 months into the relationship.

What did you do? Nothing. You understood, you didn’t ask to touch him or interact with it until he did. His pinky grabbing yours while walking inside a mall. That would eventually go to him wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You would only kiss his cheek or forehead until he would grab your cheeks and plant his lips on yours. You would say I love you to him first naturally but he would respond by I know. It wasn’t until you both were watching the stats on a hill before he turned to you saying I love you. You never pressured him to have sex, you would make out and once it got heated he would stop. Apologizing. You would shake your head and place a kiss on his cheek. Until he finally wanted to, you would make sure it was okay every step.

You were patient with his “stubbornness,” at least that what he would think. Until one day you told him it wasn’t stubbornness it was his boundaries. Once those words left your mouth he knew he was in love with you. You loved him for him. It wasn’t perfect at times but you always came back and so did he. When he proposed to you, it was private.

You came home from work and being pent up you wanted Simon to do whatever to you. He fucked you senseless that night then drew a warm bath. You both were laying in the suds of the warm bath lights dimmed as he had you lean against his chest.

“Marry me.” He whispered kissing your neck softly.

At first you laughed cause you both had the conversation that he didn’t want to marry. “Okay Simon.”

Simon turned your head to him. “No dove marry me.”

It was another moment of silence as she sighed. “Even if your kid is stubborn they will be the kindest.” She added standing up. He watched her get up looking at her. “The thing I never thought that would happen because…” She paused looking away for a moment. “Because of your father, you became the kindest loving person Simon. You may deny it. But your child will always think and know that you are their hero.”

“I don’t know. Maybe one day.” He mumbled.

“You wait Simon your kid will be happy to see you come home from work again and again. That’s what ya did when I came home when you were a toddler,” He chuckled as he shook his head. “Ya did! You would yell mummy mummy look look! Show me some rock you found out in the back. Still have it.”

Simon laughed. “Ya have that thing?”

“Yep,” She chuckled rocking in the chair she was in. “On my vanity. But when that happens you will get just as excited. Yell with ‘em.”

Simon walked into the door as Riley stood by him. Price gave him the dog because of good infiltration missions, search and rescue, and bomb sniffing. Why he chose Simon to have the dog? Sole purpose because he knew that the wife wanted him and cause his name is Riley. Why wouldn’t they keep him?

When he opened the door, the squeal of delight burst into his ears. You laid on the floor with yours and his daughter. She bounced in her butt as she reached up with grab me motion. Simon’s heart did flips as a smile showed on his face. “There are my angels.” He said reaching down to hold his daughter close placing a kiss on her head.

“Daddy daddy,” He heard pattering feet running down the hallway. The oldest running with a paper in hand. “Look look,” She shoved the paper up showing Simon, in his skull mask holding hands with you with a belly, her and the baby. “Dats all of us!”

“I see that,” He said chuckling. “We look pretty good.” The potato drawing stage has been his favorite art style. Has one in his office as we speak of Riley and him.

You got up, he noticed that you tummy was showing more the third one on the way. “You even showed my belly coming.” You joked looking up at Simon who went down for a kiss. Riley barked as his oldest went to give him a squeeze as he licked her face.

“How’s the hellins been?” He asked you kissing you again. The baby cooing as she played with his jacket.

“Hellins,” You smiled at him before placing your hand on your stomach. “This one’s especially can’t keep anything down.”

“Hm gonna have to give ‘er a long talk then.” Simon joked kissing your forehead.

The baby squealed again reaching for Riley. Your oldest laughing as she looked at both him and the baby. Riley’s tail was wagging as he patiently waited for Simon to show him the baby. You giggled as Simon sighed. “Can’t have a moment huh Ri? Have to see Allison after getting all the love from Millie?”

He barked as he got excited when Simon went to his knees. Riley walked up to his daughter licking her hand as she reached for him. Simon praised Riley as he was soft towards her, kissing his daughters head. Millie coming over to wrap her arms around his larger one. “Love ya daddy.”

“‘M not gonna be a husband nor a father mum.” He mumbled not looking at her.

“Why,” Simon shrugged and she scoffed as she looked at him. “You would never be like him,” Still didn’t say anything she frowned standing up cause him to look at her as she walked in front of him. “I do because ya father would never have kicked out someone that was hurting his family. Would never go visit his mum. Would never get his brother out of crowd he ran with. Would never play with his nephew. Would never serve his country,” She walked up to him to place a hand on his cheek. “And one day your wife will tell you and your kids will show ya how much of an amazing person you are,” Her eyes watered as she rubbed her thumb up and down. “And if you ever forget, it isn’t too late to remember.”

Simon never would have done this, never would go backwards. Too many memories too much pain. Yet when he mentioned that his mother’s birthday was coming close you mentioned to visit her. He would deny it and not say anything afterwards. Yet once the day become closer the thought became more inviting. More wanting to go.

After putting the girls to bed you both laid in the shared bed. He was more quiet that day as tomorrow was the day. You didn’t say anything about it kept going on like nothing was happening. You laid on Simon’s chest when he inhaled deeply. “Let’s have ya mum watch the kids,” He whispered. “Think I should visit my mum.”

You nodded as you melt closer to him. ��You sure? I don’t have to come either.”

“I want ya there.”

Now he was here, standing in front of his family’s stones. Names engraved into them. Flowers in hand. Wind is the only sound hitting his ears besides the sound of his heart. You stood next to him looking down at the stone as well. Not saying a word. Being patient. Simon’s mind was racing rapid. “She was right ya know,” He mumbled quietly. You looked up at him giving a quizzed look. “Said that I would have the life I have. Yet I can’t tell her like she said I would.”

You looked back down at the stone before smiling, slowly grabbing his empty hand. “I think she knows Si.”

Simon inhaled deeply as tears filled his eyes. The mask hiding the trembled lip. You were right, she knew. She knew that the life she hoped that he would have came together piece by piece. Shaping the home that he gave for his loving wife and caring girls.

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kennarose1108 · 10 months ago

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Rio x Reader (YOU SAVE HIS LIFE) Part 3

You woke up lying on your stomach and the blanket over your back, covering your naked body. You reached out to touch Rio but all you found was a cold and empty bed.

He had been gone for awhile.

You opened your eyes and shifted up in bed before letting out a yawn. You felt disappointed he wasn't in bed with you and most likely left the apartment but you shrugged off the feeling and started listing off the things you had to do today...

Take a shower, clean the house, go to the grocery store... Make a grocery list. It feels weird not working. Rio says you don't have to and being gone for over two months means you don't have a job anyway. One day, he gave you a card and told you to go nuts with it. Anything you wanted. But you mainly use it for necessities, you feel bad using it for anything else.

Just as you were going to get out of bed the door opened and Rio stepped inside. He smiled at you, "Hey mama." He says before walking over to you and kissing your head. "I have to go out today. I'm seeing my son." Rio says to you. You smile at him and nod... You completely forgot he had a son. Rio walks over to his side of the bed and grabs the airplane he had been working on for the last two months that was sitting on the nightstand.

"I won't be home until late." He says while shuffling through the drawer in the nightstand. "Why?" You ask while running your fingers through your messy hair. He didn't answer, which was odd. He always answered your question. You turned to look at him and saw him stuffing something into his pocket. You got a glance at it and you recognized it as the bullets you took out of him when he got shot by Beth... Beth...

"Are you seeing Beth?"

He didn't answer again, he just sighed deeply. "Rio-" "Does it matter?" You narrow your eyes. "Yeah... It matters." You say. He sighs again but decides to ignore you for now. He walks over to your side of the bed cups your face and kisses your lips slowly and sensually for a few seconds before he pulls back, "I'll see you later baby, okay?" He then moves away from the bed and heads towards the door. He opens it before freezing and looking at you, "Don't be upset. I'll make it up to you. Okay?" He says. You nodded and gave him a small smile before he left the room.

Your day went by smoothly... Other than the lingering thought of Beth in the back of your mind.

And he did in fact come home late. You didn't hear him come home until 3AM. You heard him rustle through the kitchen before making his way to the bedroom. You were pretending to be asleep and facing away from the door when he entered. You heard him shuffling around before he got into bed. But he did something that he never did... He wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled your back against his chest. He buries his face into your shoulder and takes in your scent.

You were confused... Was something wrong?

"I know you're awake..." He mumbles into your neck.

You still don't say anything. You were just confused. He sighs deeply against you and holds you tighter. Yeah... There was something definitely wrong. "What's wrong?" You ask. No answer. After a few seconds, you decide to repeat yourself.

"Rio-" "Beth's pregnant."

Your heart stopped and your breath got caught in your throat. You knew they had slept together a few times as Beth told you when you were a part of her group. You knew she wasn't dead as he doesn't hurt children or pregnant women. You knew that. But... What now? Does this change anything? Is it Rio's or her husband's? Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding.

"If this is a deal breaker I-" "No." You don't even let him finish his sentence. It was insane to for him to even think that... Then it hit you. He was hugging you in bed because he felt like it was the last time he'd be able to hold you...

You shake your head before turning your head to the side to look at him. "Why would you even think that?" You ask. "Though it would be a dealbreaker..." He mumbles. "You think her being pregnant is a dealbreaker but not you killing her?" You say before letting out a chuckle. You turn your body around so you are facing him, "I'm assuming you're a possible father..." You ask. He nods slowly.

"But she's full of it." He says with contempt in his voice. "Once she gets an ultrasound I'll end it." He says. "You think she's lying?" "I know she is." He says. His thumb rubs circles into your hip giving you a fluttery feeling in your chest.

He moves the hand on your hip to brush the hair on your face behind your ear. "But... Let's ignore that now. I want to spend time with my girl." He says before pulling you into a tight embrace. You enjoy how he held you as he usually didn't in bed, it made you feel safe and comforted. Even after you had sex he didn't cuddle much. He let you rest your cheek on his chest and he had his arm loosely around you but that was it. He just wasn't a cuddly type of man.

But... Maybe this changed him because he...

Liked it.

He actually liked it. He even felt himself dozing off as he held you. He even felt comforted with you in his arms. You were changing him...

Maybe even for the better.

PART 4?

#rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x you #rio #rio good girls x you #rio good girls x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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otomes-world · 3 months ago

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From time to time I see notifications with likes of my not quite au with rsa!mobs. Also considering that I liked Neigh from the very beginning and wrote fics about him, one idea came up. I will regret it very much, very much, but..

As if, now my old-new impression of the characters is like this.

Here they are from left to right:

Aro, - we'll leave the names as they were originally intended, in order to honor of the original author - the quietest and most suspicious of the three. You're walking down the street, there he is. You went into the store to buy some groceries, he's standing in front of the checkout. You went jogging in the woods, and there he is, too.

His image plays into his hands as many times as it takes. At some point, you notice him in the distance or, on the contrary, very close, it doesn't matter, and you begin to consider him part of the background. Who are you to bother him, right?

A huge miscalculation on your part. Because when he actually approaches you to talk for the first time - for any reason - you won't suspect anything strange. Hell, you've known each other for so long. Even if for most of this "time" he simply existed. He's become so integral to your life that it's strange to go shopping without seeing at least the top of his head.

His constant sleepiness completes the picture. You can't help but worry about him, because he could be anywhere at any time. Not everyone around you is as kind or understanding as you.

He's not like all the other boys around you. He doesn't get into fights, he's not rude - he rarely speaks, to be honest - he's a model child and student. If there was an award called "Any Teacher's Dream", he would be in nominating hall as well.

He always listens, no matter what nonsense or stupidity you ask. You were talking about the lifestyle of snowy owls, so why did you stop? Aro doesn't mind if you lecture him about these birds, even if it started an hour ago and it's past midnight now.

As soon as he confesses, you… what are you? It's like he's become such permanent part of your life that you have been dating for a long time. You call him for help. You share with him very first breaking news. You ask him for advice. At some point, you have to wonder if you even had any friends before Aro came along.

Silver or Quicksilver, he is that very child who grew up on fairy tales about brave knights who slaying dragons and rescuing princesses. The very one who will come to sing you a serenade under your window and will dodge flying pillows of awakened ghosts along the way.

The one who will be watching you from the far end of the street, on the opposite side, and when you give in and come over to clear things up, he will drop to one knee and propose marriage right then and there. Ignoring your completely unimpressed gaze, he will look at you with his glowing, childlike eyes.

Getting rid of him is some miracle, no doubt, but you return to the dorm, and there is a pair of white doves with a wreath waiting by the door. Where did he even find them? Are there any companies that provide services of specially trained birds that deliver boxes? What do you mean, there is a whole dovecote of them in the RSA? What do you mean, you will receive flowers and gifts regardless of whether you want them or not?

As soon as you give up on trying to appeal to his working brain cells - you have already convinced yourself that he does not have any - he will jump up and start apologizing for his behavior, simultaneously adding compliments to you in his speech. At some point, you come to terms with the fact that the whole street is watching the unfolding scene. No, you are not filming a teen drama. No, you are seeing him for the first time in your life. No, he is not crazy… although, perhaps, people are right about that.

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you slowly resigned yourself to the idea of turning your dorm into a flower shop. The other students began to run away when they saw you in the hallway, as you handed out flowers to everyone you met. When you ran out of people, you went around for a second round. Then a third...

Good luck trying to explain to this RSA prince, one of the RSA princes, that things don't work like that. As you left with another bouquet, you mentally figured out who you could give it to.

Raven. A fine, well-mannered young man. He never raises his voice, always lends a helping hand to those in need. Wait, why does he have such a sly, suspicious look? If you ask him directly, he will put on an innocent expression and ask in response, “Aren't you imagining things?”

No, you're not. You are more than sure that you have seen the way he looks at RSA-Silver when he thinks that no one is watching. Your compass, magnetized by all the overblots and other NRC students, works like a clock for such things. You will not let his pretty face fool you.

Exactly, but now you are sitting in a cafe and discussing… what were you discussing?.. He has a mysterious ability to bring arguments in the most neglected cases and convince you to do what you initially did not want. After two minutes of conversation, you no longer remembered your complaints about him, as if they had not existed in the first place. All problematic issues are listened to and turn into such trifles that it is worth considering whether you were dissatisfied with something.

He is attentive, always noticing the smallest changes and reading your mood like an open book. You were thirsty, so he hands you a bottle of water. You were thinking about something sweet, what a coincidence, he has some of your favorite candies in his pocket. You seemed to want to eat a certain cuisine, and during lunch he asks if you would like to visit a cafe where it is served.

At some point, everyone starts considering you a couple long before you hear him confess. It's exactly as you wanted it, as well as it completes the picture perfectly. You tried to refuse, but the same thing happens. He turns all your negatives about the relationship into reasons why you should say yes. This doesn't obligate you to anything. You are mature understanding individuals who are taking closer look at each other. Dating someone doesn't mean that you have to spend your whole life together.

However, you get the idea that it will be impossible to break up with him.

#I'll warn you right away I have no desire to return to that series.#I don't remember at all how I wanted to finish or how to develop story etc #by the way you know where to find everything right...#tenshi talk #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #rsa mob #rsa twst #rsa x reader #rsa oc #twst rsa #rsa!mob #yandere male #yandere male x reader

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cherryblossombankai · 11 days ago

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Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches.

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters.

"I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship.

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling.

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine.

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate.

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!"

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't.

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face.

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you.

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased.

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it.

You clear your throat, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands.

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back.

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together.

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure.

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still.

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.”

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.”

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him.

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

#🌸.writes #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa bnha x reader #aizawa mha x reader #eraserhead x reader

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kissorkill16 · 3 months ago

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Hello Neighbor: Kept Secrets

By JJ

Summary: With Nicky missing, and no one around to help, it's up to Trinity and the rescue squad to investigate the neighbor and save their friend.

Chapter 5

"You think so too?"

His question surprised me. Does he also think that Mr. Peterson is the one who kidnapped Nicky? If so, why didn't he tell anyone? "What do you mean? Enzo, have you been..."

He nodded, "I've been secretly investigating Mr. Peterson. I didn't think anyone would believe me, or listen to me for that matter. But from the day we found out Nicky went missing, the police told us that they were going to investigate everywhere in Raven Brooks, and they obviously started with Friendly Court. But I found it very interesting how they've knocked on every single door on Friendly Court,..."

Enzo pulled a picture of Mr. Peterson's house and fence and handed it to me, "That is...every door, but one."

I nodded.

"Yeah.", he said. "At first, I thought it was just because of the fence. But Mr. Peterson must be into some pretty awful stuff if even the police won't check his house, and Mr. Peterson is doing everything he can to avoid them."

I stared at the picture for a while, then I smiled at my cute and nerdy boyfriend. "Ha! Well look at you, Mr. Detective.", I said flirtatiously. His face went red for a moment, but then he shook his head and we got back on track.

"But you thought Mr. Peterson was being suspicious too.", he said, I nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy.", I replied.

"And I didn't tell anyone what I found, because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy."

We stood there in silence for a moment.

We're out of the house faster than it felt like, and we didn't stop running until we were all the way to 910 Friendly Court, but we stopped in our tracks when we saw Mr. Peterson's red car driving off.

"Damn it!", I cursed, stomping my foot. But that quickly faded away when I ran to the fence door, and I struggled to open it. It didn't budge.

But it didn't have any padlocks on it or anything barding it shut. It's probably locked from the inside.

"Damn it!", I cursed again. "But Nicky's in there!"

"And the fence looks too high for either of us to climb, even if we stood on shoulders.", said Enzo. "But we can still follow Mr. Peterson. If we're going to prove to anyone that Mr. Peterson is the kidnapper, we need some definitive proof."

I nodded. "But he's driving, Enzo. How're we supposed to catch up with him?", I asked.

Then I spotted Nicky's red bike, leaning against his broken trellis. I ran to it, hopping on and waiting for Enzo to do the same. Then as soon as we were both on the bike, I peddled off, following Mr. Peterson as fast as I could.

We followed him to the Natural Grocer, I parked the bike behind the store, then we watched through the window at Mr. Peterson.

We didn't really see him buy anything suspicious. Just some lunch meat, bread, rice noodle, broccoli, carrots, tomato, and some spices. Nothing suspicious, just groceries.

"Unless he's planning on cooking Nicky into a meal, I don't see anything too suspicious about this.", said Enzo. I shushed him as I saw Mr. Peterson grab something that really caught my eye.

Chloroform and sleeping pills.

The rest of the items he put in his basket were very innocent, but this one definitely wasn't. He could definitely be using it to drug Nicky, I saw him use something like that in a syringe earlier.

We watched him leave the store, and we tip toed towards him, and the next place he walked into was Screw Loose Hardware Store.

We watched through the window at him again.

Like before, he didn't really grab anything too suspicious. Just a pic ax, some rope, a mallet, and a saw.

Nevermind, all of these things sound a little suspicious.

I tried to tell myself that these could all be very innocent items. After all, Mr. Peterson did like to build. He was a rollercoaster tycoon. I kept telling myself that,...up until he grabbed a bear trap off the shelf.

Now I knew that these were absolutely NOT innocent.

We watched him check out at the register, but not before he grabbed a drill from another shelf. Oh stop trying to cover it up, Peterson. We already know you're a criminal.

He drove off as soon as he got out of the store and into his car, and we biked after him.

We followed him home, and as he opened the fence, we slowly crouched down behind him, and tip toed inside. Making sure to be extra quiet so we wouldn't get caught.

"Are we seriously going to do what I think we're going to do?", Enzo whispered to me. I shushed him, and pulled him to a nearby bush as I saw Mr. Peterson's head turn around. I sighed in relief when I heard him walk inside and close the door behind him.

I turned to Enzo. "Yes, we're doing this. We need to save Nicky. And we can only know where he is if we search this house.", I said.

He nodded, and we walked quickly to the backyard.

As we were fully in the backyard, we saw an open window. I put my hands together, "Come on, I'll boost you up.", I said.

Enzo put his foot on my hands and climbed into the house, and hoisted me up into the house as well.

I looked around the room, and I felt like I was already familiar with it.

This was Aaron's room.

It was an absolute mess in here.

For one thing, it was cold, and there were broken toys and glass all over the floor. The bedsheets were completely messed up and ripped off the bed, and thrown to the floor.

"Someone's been having a temper tantrum in here.", I said.

We slowly walked out of the room, being careful to open the squeaking door. Then we walked all around the hallway, looking for a place where Nicky could be.

This place was a maze of doors. We were so lucky that this wasn't a horror movie type of hallway, where you open one door and you're out another. But this was just too weird.

We tip toed down the stairs once we learned we had no luck, being careful to watch out for the creaking parts.

Once we were down to the living room, the first thing I saw on a drawer next to the couch was a red key.

I walked to it and picked it up, "What could this be for?", I asked myself.

Then from behind me, I jumped out of my skin when I heard a door banging and shaking.

It was the door to the basement, and it had a shiny red padlock on it, holding it shut against whatever was banging against it.

Or whoever was banging against it.

"Do you think Nicky's in there?", Enzo asked.

"I don't know.", I said. I walked to the door and leaned against it, "Nicky, are you in here?", I whispered.

Instead of an answer like "yes" or "Trinity?", I got frightened mumblings instead.

"Let me out. Let me out. Please, Mr. Peterson. I have a family and friends out there, please let me out."

That was Nicky's voice.

I backed up in shock, dropping the key and putting a hand to my chest. "He's in there.", I breathed.

Enzo gripped my shoulders, gently rubbing them. He turned his gaze to the door. "Nicky, it's us. Trinity and Enzo.", he said.

"Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.", more scared rambling. Now we both were shocked.

What did Mr. Peterson do to our friend?

"D-Don't worry, Nicky. We'll get you out, just hold on.", I said. But just as I was picking up the key, we heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. And we instantly knew it was Mr. Peterson.

We ran from the door, hiding in a wardrobe that wasn't too far from it. As Mr. Peterson descended into the room, he looked around, then he stopped at the door. He examined the lock, and somehow wasn't pleased.

Then I remembered...

The red key I dropped on the floor.

He bent down and picked it up, gripping it in his hand, nearly growling.

"You dropped the key?!", Enzo whispered to me.

"I got scared!", I whispered back at him. Then I elbowed him in the ribs. "Be quiet! He'll hear us."

We both held our mouths, trying to steady our breathing.

Mr. Peterson smiled the most horrible smile I've ever seen. It wasn't a happy smile, it looked more forced than anything.

"Boys...", he started, "I can't keep playing this game with you.", he walked around the living room, grabbing whatever he got his hands on, and throwing it to the other side of the room. And every time he did that, me and Enzo nearly jumped.

Also, boys?

Who else was he hiding in this house? Apart from Nicky.

"You boys are so adorable. Thinking you can hide from me.", he growled, "But there is nowhere in this house where you can hide and I won't find you."

I gasped when he grabbed the back of a bookshelf, throwing it to the floor. Somehow, he seemed to hear it.

He quickly snapped his head up, and his gaze fell upon the wardrobe me and Enzo were hiding in.

Mr. Peterson still had that same creepy smile on his face, and he slowly walked towards the wardrobe, and pulled onto the handle.

Me and Enzo braces ourselves for the worse.

But just as Mr. Peterson was pulling open the wardrobe, we heard a loud hitting sound that sounded like someone broke a bone. Mr. Peterson let out a loud scream, falling backwards, holding his knee. Then I saw something hit him in the head, knocking him out completely.

Our savior opened the door, and I was absolutely taken aback by who it was.

Maritza.

"Come on!"

We sprint out of the wardrobe, jumping over Mr. Peterson and running out the front door.

I yanked the fence door open, running out as quickly as I could, Enzo and Maritza following close behind. We ran until we were all the way across the street.

Once we were at the Roth house patio, we flopped onto the porch stairs, letting out sighs of exhaustion and relief.

But that quickly passed.

"What the hell were you doing in there?", Enzo asked Maritza.

"Me? What about you, dork?!", Maritza shot back at her brother.

"None of your business.", he said. "But if you must know, sis, we were trying to rescue Nicky from Mr. Peterson's creepy basement. What's your excuse?"

I decided to end things before they get ugly.

"Guys, please.", I said. "Yes, Maritza. We were in his house, and we were trying to find Nicky. But I don't think it's just Nicky we have to save."

Maritza shook her head, "What're you talking about? Who else could be in there? Also, where's my thank you for saving you from Mr. Peterson's unhinged ass?"

Enzo rubbed his temple in frustration. I turned back to Maritza, "Thank you.", I said. She nodded and let me continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, I don't know who could be down there with Nicky...", I said.

...Then my mind flashed back to Nicky.

My mind flashed back to when Nicky was trying to convince us that Mr. Peterson was locking Aaron somewhere in his creepy house. That's how I knew that Aaron and Nicky were in the basement.

"Aaron...", I whispered.

I stood up and started walking down the street, and I soon heard Enzo and Maritza follow closely behind me.

"Aaron's in there."

I once again expected them to think I was crazy, but instead, they were kind of understanding.

"Is that where Aaron is?", Maritza asked. "Then why would Mr. Peterson lie about them going missing?"

"So he could avoid the cops.", said Enzo. "We're all aware of how crazy Mr. Peterson is, and it's surprising to see that he has children. But I'm sure that whatever he's doing with Aaron and Nicky in his basement, it's gotta be something that makes the police steer clear of him."

Me and Maritza nodded. Then I had the most craziest idea, "We have to get back into that house."

The two stared at me in shock.

Maritza nodded quickly, "Alright, what's the plan?", she asked.

Enzo on the other hand, wasn't too cool with that plan.

"Uh uh, absolutely not."

We turned to him.

"Why not?", I asked.

"Well for one thing, we nearly got killed by him.", he started. "And another thing, he's a dangerous psychopath who's locking kids in his basement, doing God knows what to them.", he gestured to Maritza. "And you're seriously thinking about bringing us in there with you! Including my little sister!"

Maritza slapped his hand away, then stomped towards her older brother. "She's not bringing me anywhere, Enzo. I'm volunteering. I want to save Nicky just as much as you guys do, and I literally saved you guys from nearly getting killed.", she said.

Enzo wanted to protest more, but Maritza wouldn't let him even finish a sentence.

"Look, I know it's hard for you to even think about the Petersons. Especially with the whole thing Mr. Peterson said to me.", she said, pausing for a moment when she saw Enzo's hand curl to a fist. She put a hand on his shoulder, "But none of that matters now. Right now, our friend is in danger, and we're the only ones who know that Mr. Peterson had something to do with his disappearance. Hell, he's holding him hostage right now."

She crossed her arms and gave Enzo a smug smile, "Besides, this may be a good chance for you to make it up to him. I may have been a jerk too, but you were an even bigger one."

Enzo would've tackled her to the ground if I wasn't holding him back.

"Enzo, please.", I said. "We were all jerks, and if we save him, we can all apologize and be friends again."

Enzo sighed once he knew there was no further argument. "But how? We're seriously going to just go in there? Just the 3 of us?", he said. "We may be more people than him, but he's still bigger and stronger than all of us combined."

Enzo did have a point. I rubbed my chin as I thought, "You're right...", I said. "We're going to need a bigger number."

Then I thought about a couple of other people who I thought would be the perfect candidates for this mission.

"And I know just who can help us."

#hello neighbor #hello neighbor: kept secrets #hello neighbor books #trinity bales #enzo esposito #maritza esposito #my fics #hello neighbor fanfic #theodore peterson

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shyphonics · 4 months ago

Text

Salad Days, Chapter 9: Baby, Detonate for Me

(babypunk Rodrick Heffley x reader)

all chapters | playlist

I just want to give a warning for this chapter for mentions of mental health issues, antidepressants, and hospitals. This got weird and I'm sorry lol. My brain went to a dark place and I started thinking about my horrible middle school experience and the years I spent in a pit doing antidepressant roulette. This is also not any sort of anti meds/hospital propaganda, do whatever works for you :)

Anyway, this one's long and kinda sad, but I promise you it's uphill from here. These kids are gonna get their shit together.

9 to 5, they got you where they want you

There's a better life

And you think about it, don't you?

It's a rich man's game

No matter what they call it

And you spend your life putting money in his pocket

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Ben sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, dude! I have to work!” Rodrick insists, trying to step around him to get to the door.

“Ward worked really hard to get us this practice space, we already set up your drums, and you won't even come for just a little while? Call in sick!”

Ward crosses his arms, nodding, hurt in his eyes.

Rodrick thinks. There was a time when he would've blown off just about anything to go practice with his friends, in a real studio space. Now he's not even sure if he remembers how to play.

“All the big local bands practice there. It's, like, a little apartment building with studios! It's awesome! And we got in!” Ward frowns.

“All the big local bands?” Rodrick turns to look at him.

The guys all nod.

Rodrick sneaks around Ben wordlessly, heading towards the door and slipping out. The guys yell in protest as he walks down the hallway, but he doesn't stop. He can't face them, no matter how terrible he feels about all of this. He made this mess, and he has no idea how to fix it.

“That girl emailed you!”

Rodrick freezes. He turns around.

“That's fucking low,” He breathes, pointing towards the open door of the apartment, “Don't fuck with me like that.”

He storms off down the hallway, driving the band van across town, to the plant. He loads up his truck in anger, shoving the cases inside and slamming the door. Maybe he doesn't even want to be in the band anymore. Not with people who will toy with his emotions like that. The guys at the plant suck, but at least they don't need much more from him than “deliver the beer.”

He really does hate hanging out with them, though. He drives fast, the cans and bottles in the back rattling underneath the sound of a mix CD he hasn't listened to since high school. The radio isn't safe right now. Not when the only good station gives him a high chance of hearing you.

He stops at a red light, grunting and gripping the wheel. He didn't think his friends had that in them, to try and trick him like that. Unless they weren't… unless you really…

No. No way. You want nothing to do with him. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, driving through the green light.

He wheels his dolly into a grocery store, head down, until he hears a throat clear.

A man stands before him, holding up a picture. He looks at the picture, then the man, in total confusion.

“Do you know this girl?” The man asks.

Rodrick looks back down, the features slowly coming into view. It's you, without a doubt, but you look… different. Younger, straight laced, maybe a little dead behind the eyes. He squints in confusion, then looks up at the man.

“Why?”

“Why? It's none of your business,” He scoffs, “Do you know her? Do you know where I can find her?”

He eyes the man strangely, not liking the frantic look in his eyes. After everything he's done to you, he's not taking a chance on any weird shit like this. He’s at least not going to make anything worse. He shakes his head.

“Never seen her.” He keeps his face straight.

“Are you sure?” The man pleads.

“100%. I gotta get these cases in, ‘scuse me.” He pushes his dolly around the man.

He feels eyes on him the whole time, hunching over as he wheels into the store. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like it one bit.

Sitting in his truck after the delivery, he feels uneasy.

He sighs, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. There’s a car right on his ass, some flashy, white BMW. He raises an eyebrow, speeding up a little.

“Just pass me, asshole.” He mumbles, turning up his music.

The white car follows him to all of his deliveries that day, and at the third one, the driver gets out. It’s the guy from the grocery store. Rodrick wants to say something, but he’s not exactly the confrontational type. He decides to just keep an eye on him, for now.

He’ll just end up on the opposite side of town from you, anyway.

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try

I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, I lie, and lie, and lie

I'm Miss World

Somebody kill me

Kill me, pills

No one cares, my friend

2 weeks. It’s officially been 2 weeks since you’ve seen Rodrick. On top of that, you and one of your best friends are not on speaking terms, and it feels like your dad gets closer to finding you every day. Not to mention that you’ve been alone, cooped up in the house all week. No bar, no radio, only a few horse calls from Mike to drop off groceries and scheme with you.

You lie back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling defeated.

You should’ve known. Should’ve taken Rodrick’s whole “bad boy” schtick as the red flag that it had been. A “bad boy” schtick usually means one thing: coward. You should’ve protected yourself. You laugh, despite yourself, shaking your head. You can feel the crazy coming. It’s always preceded by feelings of rejection. And thoughts of your father. The beast comes out. You know how you are.

Feeling like this makes the memories come out. The bad ones, stored real deep, where you won’t dare dwell on your own.

You have passing memories of the first time you ever heard good music, which is kinda fun, at first.

You were 12, innocently flipping channels, when you’d landed on MTV. Hole, No Doubt, Smashing Pumpkins… whoa.

You’d been so curious, chasing the sound you’d heard that night, that you’d walked down to the mall, to the music store the next day.

“I’m looking for something… I- I saw these people on TV.” You’d looked away from the counter, embarrassed.

“How old are you?” The guy at the counter had smiled, his spiked hair huge, lime green. A thick, silver ring sat in his lip, and his jacket was covered in spikes. He looked like a dangerous disco ball.

“12,” You couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d just been so cool.

You’d left with a stack of CDs, sold on discount. The older boy had given you an ‘introduction pack’, as he’d said.

7 albums that would go on to change your life.

Misfits - Walk Among Us

Ramones - Rocket to Russia

Black Flag - Everything Went Black

Dead Kennedys - Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables

Bad Brains - Bad Brains

Bikini Kill - Revolution Girl Style Now!

The Dead Milkmen - Big Lizard In My Backyard

The music reached you, where nothing else had reached you before.

Especially the basslines- you’d waited ages on dial-up internet to find out who the bassists were. Jerry Only, Dee Dee Ramone, Chuck Dukowski, Klaus Fluoride, Darryl Jenifer, Kathi Wilcox, and Dave Blood, your new heroes.

You laugh a little painfully, remembering the candle you’d lit earlier this year, to commemorate the one year anniversary of Dave Blood’s death. You and Mike had cried at the bar together, listening to surfy basslines like they were funeral hymns.

That summer, you’d begged your parents to let you into a music program.

They’d assumed it would be something classy, you playing chamber music on a violin, but it was a rock band program. Sure, you’d lied. Who cares?

You’d had the time of your life, all decked out in prop leather jackets and Halloween eyeliner. Learning how to play, how to be a band. Togetherness. It had only been a two week program, but you bonded with those guys more than any kid you’d ever met in school.

Your music teacher, Frankie, had awoken you to your own power for the first time.

You were already learning bass- you’d learned all the songs your tween rock band had decided on- but he’d wanted you to be the singer, too. No one else wanted to do it.

He’d placed a folding chair in front of you.

Yell at the chair. He’d said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

I’m sorry, what?

Yell at the chair.

You’d yelled, half heartedly, looking to Frankie for approval.

He’d looked at you, deadpan.

C’mon. I know you can do better than that, Don’t look at me! Scream! You hear me? Scream like a girl!

You yelled, and screamed, as Frankie urged you to think about anything that made you angry.

You’d thought about your recent debilitating period cramps, your mother’s magazine fad diet obsession, and both of your parents’ lament that they could never have another child. As if to insinuate they’d had one shot with you, and you’d better be good, dammit.

You’d yelled until you could completely nail a song that you’d suggested to the group- California Uber Alles. Eerie wails left you until it was like the spirit of Jello Biafra was possessing you himself.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

The final performance came, and your parents looked horrified, a stark contrast to the supportive classic rock dads and lowrider moms, cheering from the audience.

You’d taken center stage, a too-big Fender bass positioned on your hips, and said to the audience, “We! Are! Ne’er Do Wells!”

You’d looked across the stage, the lights bright in your eyes, and god. For the first time in your life, you’d felt like you had some sense of control over yourself. You felt like you had power. The set had been incredible- you’d yelled, and jumped around, even dramatically dropped to your knees, scraping yourself up on the splintery, old wood of the stage. People went crazy for it- well, except for your parents. Your bandmates’ parents and Frankie more than made it up to you. You’d had stars in your eyes. Finally, a beam of hope.

That’s what I wanna do. You’d repeated, over and over, that’s what I wanna do when I grow up.

You were 13 years old the first time you were put on antidepressants.

“I don't know. She's angry, she doesn't listen,” Your mom says, rolling her eyes, “Fix her.”

The doctor doesn't even look up.

He's not even a psychiatrist.

“We can start her on 75mgs of Zoloft,” he scribbles on a sheet, “Standard practice for a girl her age. I'll send it in.”

It's just like that. You're not involved. No one wants to know how you feel.

You think maybe it won't be so bad, but the first dose hits you like a truck. You stand from the couch, and a blast of vertigo sends you flying sideways to the floor.

Your mom looks down at you.

“I guess you can't go to your bass lessons.”

You panic. No, no, no. That's all you have left. Frankie had taken a liking to you, and gave you lessons for free. He’d known your parents hated the music thing, and he took pity on you. Your one safe place.

“No, I can go!”

You stand. You fall. Your mom brings you to your room.

“You should rest.” She closes the door.

You sit on your bed, knees to your chest. You look at the walls, a chaotic collage of magazine cutouts and posters, and are comforted, slightly. Dead Kennedys; 3 regular looking guys, and a screaming, shirtless Jello Biafra. Bikini Kill, solemn in sepia, with dark lipstick and baby tees. Suicidal Tendencies, sitting on a curb in their flannels and Dickies, hat bills flipped up. You try to slow your breathing, your head feeling cloudier and cloudier as a wave of nausea hits. You roll onto your side, coming face to face with a goofy, shirtless pinup of 80s Danzig, trying to look tough. It always makes you laugh. This time, all you can manage is a faint smile. Sleep eventually finds you.

The pills just make everything worse.

You're a zombie, except for brief outbursts of rage. Nearly always directed at your father, but sometimes just when you're alone.

This only angers him more, and your dose is upped.

You float through school, numb and confused, barely even noticing when they make you switch schools.

It's a private school, a tiny series of buildings on the outskirts of town.

Your dad insists such a small school will make you focus, and thrive. It’s some kind of experimental learning style.

All it gets you is the attention of the principal, a meek, older hippie named Dina.

She looks sweet, but soon- you find she's your worst enemy.

Every little thing you do is under scrutiny. She pulls you aside in the short hallway, nearly every day, demanding to know what you'd lied about.

“I haven't lied about anything!”

“That's not what your dad told me.”

She keeps you there for whole class periods. Your grades suffer. Your dad is pissed.

She slowly breaks you down, more and more as months go by. Even when you think things have been going well- you've been pretending to be happy, talking to people, engaging in class- it doesn't stop. She's relentless.

Eventually, a breaking point comes.

You've been working on oral reports, you've spent months on them. You're a nervous wreck. Sitting at your desk fidgeting and twitching. You can feel the bags under your eyes, and your dry lips are chewed to the point of bleeding.

Dina makes you go first.

Your blood boils.

She knows. She can see you. Why does it have to be you first?

Finally, you stand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shriek, the built up rage of nearly a year evident in your voice, “Why? Why? Why, Dina?”

She stares at you, not shocked, but something like a smirk on her face.

The students around you are stunned.

“Oh, right, because you hate me! You're always on my fucking case about shit I didn't even do!”

“I'm just trying to help prepare you for the real world.” She smiles, her voice cold, “They won't care if you're a little tired in college.”

“A little tired?” Your voice grows quiet, breaking, “I'm not a little tired, I am drugged out of my fucking mind and under constant suspicion from every single person in my life!”

People stare as you cross the room, looking at her eye to eye, your fists clenched.

“Fuck you.” Your voice comes out low and shaky.

You shoulder the classroom door open and leave the school, stumbling down the sides of busy streets, no final destination in mind.

You have passing thoughts of jumping in front of a truck, the option seeming better and better as you grow exhausted, collapsing on your knees in a dirt lot.

Then you hear the ambulance.

And that marks the start of your first visit to the psych ward.

White, sterile cinder block walls. Tiny little window to the outside. It's like you're in prison.

A woman enters your room, smiling. You manage a smile back. They've got you detoxing off the antidepressants, to get a better scope of what's actually wrong with you.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Parks. You can call me Marie, though.”

The doctor has a kind face, calm eyes, pink lips, and a freckled nose. Her hair hangs in soft, brown curls.

“What were your symptoms before you started Zoloft?” She asks.

“Well… I didn't really have any. I didn't have any symptoms until I started taking it.”

“What?” She asks, after a pause.

“I guess I got a little sad or angry sometimes, but it wasn't that bad. I thought that was normal. But maybe I'm wrong.” You look down, doubting yourself.

You hear Marie arguing with a man outside of your door.

Her dad says she's out of control!

She seems perfectly normal!

You don’t even know what you’re on now. Three different pills a day, and your mom watches you like a hawk when you take them. You’re on edge constantly, feeling like any little thing you could possibly do will land you in more trouble. You feel like a stranger in your own body, like you’re dreaming everywhere you go. You’ve lost all autonomy, all awareness. Is this normal? Is this what life is supposed to be like?

The corners are all that remains of your old, glorious poster collage. Your dad has ripped everything down by the time you got home.

You miss goofy, shirtless Danzig.

You miss being able to trust your own thoughts.

You miss feeling alive.

They can't make things worse for me, sometimes I'd rather die

They can tell me lots of things, but I can't see eye to eye

I know they know the way I think, I know they always will

But someday I'm gonna change my mind, sometimes I'd rather kill

Bloodstains, speed kills

Fast cars, cheap thrills

Rich girls, fine wine

I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind

“Rodrick!”

A girl's voice. A wasted girl’s voice. He turns around.

Heather stumbles towards him, picking blonde hairs out of her lipgloss.

“Rodrick, hey,”

He feels his whole body stiffen as she approaches, and her hand lands on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?”

“No.” He shrugs out of her touch.

“We can go somewhere private, let's go to my place.”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Okay, well I guess I'll just drive home like this, or maybe I'll be safe and walk, and get kidnapped or something.” She throws her hands out to the sides, wobbling slightly.

“Ricky, are you fuckin’ crazy?” Buck whispers.

“What?” Rodrick turns.

“If you don't take her home, I think I might,” he laughs.

Rodrick wrinkles his nose.

“Buck, she's wasted. And half your fucking age.”

“What, like that's a bad thing?” He looks around at the group. Everyone laughs. Rodrick feels a pit in his stomach.

It hits him. They're disgusting. All of them. Why is he even here?

“Fuck you, Buck, I quit,” He stands up, not waiting for a reaction, “Heather, give me your keys.”

Heather grins, smug.

She walks out, clinging to him, and he helps her into her passenger seat. Her red convertible is stupidly nice, and he's afraid to mess up the leather seats just by sitting down.

“Blue sorority house on campus,”

Rodrick nods, pulling out of the parking lot. They drive in silence.

The house is empty, and he helps Heather onto a white sofa.

“Will you at least sit down?” She sighs.

“We don't have anything to talk about, Heather.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. She scoffs.

“My boyfriend's got the cops on his ass because of you.”

“How is it because of me?” He gives up, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

“Whatever. Either way, he's probably gonna go to jail.” She rolls her eyes, scooting closer to him.

“Uh-huh,” Rodrick moves until he's right against the arm of the couch.

“But he was kind of a bad boyfriend anyway.”

Rodrick is silent, looking at her. Searching her blue eyes. She looks part drunk, part sad, part… smug, maybe?

“And, y'know, it's got me thinking,” she puts her hand on his chest. Rodrick’s heartbeat skyrockets, “Maybe I should've… given certain people a chance.”

“Heather,” he looks down at her, breathing heavily as she combs her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, “Don't. C'mon.”

“Why not?” She pouts.

“You're… you're drunk. And I think nothing ever happened between us for a reason, I mean… I don't even feel anything for you anymore. You made my life hell after the party. And after we graduated.”

Her hand grips the front of his shirt, knuckles white. He stares down at it, eyes wide.

Then her face is right in front of his, and before he can stop it, her lips are on his, and it feels… oh, god, it feels wrong.

He pushes her off and stands up.

“Heather, no. It's not gonna happen.”

She sneers up at him.

“Fine, then leave.”

“I've wanted to leave this whole time!”

“Then go!” She yells.

He stands outside the door, breathing fast, fists clenched.

After all that time, it finally happened. And it was awful. He curses, kicking a piece of gravel across the street as he starts walking back to the bar. It takes a while, but he gets there, not bothering to go back inside. He spots Caitlin outside, on her smoke break.

“I’m glad you quit,” She laughs, a bitter sound, “Fuck those guys. I’m gonna miss you, though.”

“Thanks,” He sighs, looking down, holding the door of the truck open. “You should see about getting a job downtown. Don’t put up with them anymore, y’know?”

She smiles, taking a long drag.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should. I’ll work on it. See you around?”

“We’ll see.” Rodrick smiles softly, opening the door of the van.

He gets home to a dark, empty apartment. He should’ve gotten the address of that practice space. He feels bad for how he left this morning, even if they did hit him a little below the belt.

Unless they didn’t.

Rodrick eyes his laptop, his hands hovering over it, his mind flipping rapidly back and forth between open it and don’t fucking open it!

He opens it, and there it is, plain as day. World’s best bartender.

His eyes scan the page, mouth falling open in disbelief.

I assume the ship has sailed.

Dick move.

You probably don’t care anyway.

Rodrick’s heart drops.

You’d been waiting for him. You hadn’t hated him from the start, but you have to by now. It sure sounds like it. The offer to email back and call seems like a bitter formality now. He might as well just stay in his little shame bubble.

He’d hurt you.

He’s done stupid things before, lots of them, but he’s never hurt someone like this. It feels horrible, and here he’d been thinking it was all for your benefit.

He slowly closes the laptop, curling onto his side on the couch. This time, he lets himself cry. Without the shame, without the frustration. He just cries, until his eyes are dry, and he’s a lump on the couch.

He remembers the guy at the grocery store, and then the line from your email. Bonnie Forester…

I can’t answer mystery numbers right now.

He shifts to lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, troubled. Are you in hiding or something? Who the hell was that guy?

He takes out his phone, and nobody has tried to get in contact with him all day.

Well, except his mom, who sent him a low resolution image of a kitten in a tree, with the text: hang in there! He rolls his eyes, but sends her a thanks, mom.

At least he has someone.

He decides to do something possibly stupid. He scrolls down to your number, saved as your name with several question marks afterwards. He debates for a while, thinking very carefully about what to say. He finally dials, and hears Bonnie's voicemail once again. Beep.

“Hey, um…” He sighs, cringing, “If this is… Bonnie… I'm sorry. Just in case, though, it's- it's Rodrick. I got your email. I'm so fucking sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear from me, like, ever again. I'm really, really sorry, and I’ll give you an explanation and a real apology sometime if you feel like listening to one. I just thought you should know there's some older guy showing pictures of you outside the grocery store on 4th, asking where he can find you? I don't know. It was really weird, and I told him I'd never seen you before. I figured it’s better safe than sorry.”

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners.

“I'm just so sorry for what happened to the bar, and I know you hate me, I just… I miss you so much. Fuck-” As he's trying to hit the key to start the message over, his dumb fingers hit the one to confirm it instead. Shit, shit, shit. That was way too much. He stares at his phone in shock, like it's betrayed him. He debates just throwing it across the room, but he settles for letting it clatter to the floor.

This almost feels worse than ignoring the problem. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest.

He had to do it, though. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you any worse than he had.

I wait forever for you

Figure out your problem with me is you

I won’t ever be like you

Ever see right through

High school starts. Public, this time.

You walk through the halls, feeling like a ghost. People look at you, and then quickly away. Nobody talks to you. And can you blame them? You look like a total nutcase. Well, you are, apparently.

Your mother dresses you like a Catholic schoolgirl. Plaid skirts and knee socks, white button downs and stupid little ties.

All of your focus goes into school.

I just have to pass this class. I just have to pass every single class.

You get A’s that your dad wishes were A+’s.

You grow angrier by the day.

Your 16th birthday passes, and nobody notices.

Spring Break comes, and you're actually invited to a party. Well- everyone is. You have one friend at this point, a lanky, unpopular boy named Peter. He's been on ADHD meds since he was in Kindergarten. He understands you in some weird way. He'd told you about the party with great excitement- finally, the two of you had a chance.

You beg your parents to go. To feel normal for a night.

They say no. Of fucking course they do.

You spend spring break at home, studying for finals.

The night of the party comes.

Rage builds. You're wasting your youth in a brain and a body that don't feel like yours. You’re fucking sick of it. You walk to the bathroom.

You find a pair of clippers that your dad uses to touch up his hair. You plug them in, removing the blade cover. They buzz to life.

You take a chunk of your hair off, and your jaw drops in surprise. A huge, bald stripe down the center of your head. You grin, taking off another stripe. And another. And another. Until your head is completely bald. Your hair lies in a pile on the floor.

Your mother had always loved your hair. It was just like hers, she’d said. People could mistake you for sisters.

Not anymore.

You haphazardly shave your eyebrows off for good measure.

You walk downstairs.

Your parents sit in front of the TV, neither watching. Your dad reads a newspaper, and your mom is asleep with an empty wine glass in her hand.

You stand there, staring at your dad.

He blinks at you in surprise, “Good lord- you look awful.”

You don’t say a word. He sighs, his tone staying calm.

“Is this still about that stupid party? You know I just want what’s best for you.”

Your face contorts, and you feel hot tears leaking out of your eyes. You grab his newspaper, and throw it on the ground.

“It's not just the party, and you know it!” Your voice comes out ragged.

“Okay, just calm down-” he starts.

You grab your mom's wine glass and launch it through the TV. You move on a path of destruction, breaking stupid, ugly vases, the glass case for your dad's dumb signed baseball, the “good” china plates in the cabinet.

Your dad tells you to calm down, to stop. He threatens you.

Your mother’s voice is shrill and panicked, “Your hair! What did you do to your hair?”

A scream bubbles out from your throat that won't stop, and you wail until your voice breaks, smashing everything you can get your hands on.

Your dad follows you to the kitchen, and before he can grab you, you take a knife from the block and hold it to your throat.

“Stop.” His voice is still entirely too stern and calm.

You press the tip to the hollow of your throat, raising your eyebrow, your heartbeat loud in your ears. After all that, the biggest outburst of them all, he's still a cold, emotionless asshole.

Your mom tackles you to the ground.

You come to in a room, identical to the one before, in the psych ward.

You sit on the side of the hard cot, bouncing your knees, feeling your eyes twitch, dry tears in hardened streaks on your face.

A woman comes in. You see the light from behind her, shining through her soft curls. She looks like an angel.

“C'mon. Hurry.” She whispers.

This must be some kind of a hallucination, but… the door is open. You follow her.

She sneaks you through the hospital, retrieving the clothes you'd come in with and rushing you out the front doors. You're hurried into the passenger side of a car. You finally get a good look at her.

It's Marie, the doctor, from all those years ago.

“Are you… real?”

She looks at you.

“Yes. You shouldn't be here.”

You just stare at her, feeling dazed.

“Your parents want to have you transferred to a long term facility and put a conservatorship on you once you're 18.”

“What…?”

“When you shouldn't have even been here in the first place.” She huffs, starting the car.

“What does that mean?” you ask, feeling small in the car seat.

“They'll have guardianship over you for your whole life, unless you can prove to a court that you're able to take care of yourself. And you won't be able to if you're on drugs that you don't need to be on.”

You blink at her.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice shakes.

“Well, where do you want to go?”

You look at her, stunned. You haven't gotten to make a decision for yourself in years.

“I get… to choose?”

“Yeah,” she smiles at you, “I'd hide you at my house, but I've got too many people at home. It would be too hard. Where's somewhere you've always wanted to go?”

You think, New York instantly coming to mind. It's not far, but… you'd get eaten alive. C'mon, think.

You remember seeing flyers here and there, outside of grocery stores, and on telephone poles by the high school, for punk shows.

Always in a town called Port Hanna.

You grin.

“I wanna go to Port Hanna.”

She smiles, and takes a turn that leads to the highway.

Port Hanna is 45 minutes away, and Marie lets you fiddle with the radio.

A station turns from static to a man talking, in a passionate, nasally voice.

“People thought I was crazy. My parents kicked me out when I was 16, and I said, okay, screw you. I'm going where the music is.”

Your ears perk up.

“I got to Oakland, and followed this group of punks onto a bus that went right to San Francisco. Followed ‘em to Mabuhay Gardens. Walked inside with the Xs on my hands, and Dirk Dirksen was calling the guy onstage a cavalcade of insults that I can not repeat on this broadcast. That man was Iggy Pop, and he played a song I had heard many times before. This time was different. This time, it changed me. This is that song.”

A bouncy, simple guitar riff kicks in. The music feels like it’s hugging your ears. You’ve heard it before, but you feel it changing you, too. Tears fall from your eyes uncontrollably as Marie drives.

Honey, gotta strike me blind

Somebody’s gotta save my soul

Baby, penetrate my mind

And I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, searchin’ to destroy

And, honey, I’m the world’s forgotten boy

The one who’s searchin’, only to destroy

Marie pulls up to a motel. She gets the room while you wait in the car. She hands you the key outside the door, an outside entry on a 2-story balcony, and slips a bundle of money into your hand. You embrace her.

“I got you 7 days- I know it’s not enough. Nothing would be enough, but-” She sighs.

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” You squeeze her, “I’ll figure something out,”

“Jesus. You’re too young to have to figure something like that out.”

“It’s okay.”

“One more thing,” she pulls away, “If the phone rings, you don’t say hello. You wait until they talk.”

You nod.

“And as the meds wear off, you’re probably going to feel a little weird, but it’s worth it. I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle, after all you’ve been through. Just… please be careful. Call me if you need anything.”

She hands you another slip of paper, with a phone number written down.

You hug her one last time, and she’s gone.

The room is friendly, if dated. A tacky, fruit-patterned comforter covers the bed, with a matching armchair in the corner. The walls are a soft beige, and a tired-sounding air conditioning unit runs under the window. Your head feels freezing- an unfamiliar feeling- and you turn it off. You change out of your hospital clothes into the ones you’d been admitted in, and feel a little better. You click the TV on, sitting in the middle of the bed. Alone- the good kind of alone. You tune in to MTV, a formerly banned channel in your household. You don’t know who’s being interviewed, and you don’t care. You’re just too happy to hear music. To hear people talking about music.

Hello, my dears, Dave Holmes here-

An ad for a pizza joint grabs your attention from by the phone, and your stomach growls. You haven’t had much of an appetite in months, not to mention your mom put the two of you on a different restrictive diet every month or so.

You count the cash Marie had given you, wondering if you could even budget food, and are shocked at the amount. Feeding yourself is definitely in the budget. You’re so happy you could cry.

You use an alias on the phone- Debbie Carlisle- and don’t look too close at the pizza guy when he arrives. As you’re about to close the door, a voice stops you from outside.

“Debbie Carlisle? Is that your stage name?” the man laughs, tall and slender, leaning on the balcony, blowing out a plume of smoke, “Debbie Harry, plus Belinda Carlisle? I like it.”

“No. Yes! Uh… no.” You panic, standing in the doorway. How did he figure it out so fast?

The man turns around. He doesn’t look too much older than you are. A pencil mustache lines his lip, and his hair makes him look like a rooster.

“You look like you’ve been through hell.” He nods at your shaved head.

You’re silent for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“You watchin’ 120 Minutes?” He peers into your open door.

“Yes.”

“Alright, well I won’t bother you too much, then. See ya ‘round, Debbie.” He smirks, ashing his cigarette over the side of the balcony.

You shut your door.

The ending of the memory is bittersweet. Nick took your rejection hard. You don’t know if he’ll ever talk to you again. You sit up on the bed, looking out the window. You’re exhausted. You wipe a tear from your cheek and pull out your cell phone. 1 missed call, and a voicemail. The same number from last week. Strange.

You click on the voicemail, holding the phone up to your ear.

The shock of Rodrick’s voice makes your eyes go wide. You feel yourself go limp, your eyes welling up again.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I’m really, really sorry.

You let your face fall into your hand, your lip trembling. All your anger with him seems to fall away, all the bullshit you’d been telling yourself earlier.

Some older guy showing pictures of you-

Your head snaps up. Nerves take over your body. You sigh with relief that Rodrick had good enough instincts to not give you up.

Your heart warms when he says he misses you.

As much as you sort of hate yourself for it, you miss him, too. You really, really do.

You don’t have it in you to call him back, not right now. You’ll be a blubbering mess. You’d rather see him in person, anyway.

There’s a party tomorrow- a big one- and The Strike re-opens on Saturday. It’ll be your first time out of the house in a week, if everything goes to plan. Maybe, just maybe, his friends will manage to drag him out of the house.

For now, you wait.

Now you’re finally sixteen

And you’re feelin’ old

But they won’t believe

That you’ve got a soul

Whoa-whoa-no

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam , @stargurl-01

#everything I do in this life I do to spite the real dina #i almost didn't change her name lmao #anyway thanks for reading and sorry lmao #the next chapter has my favorite scene I've written for this #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfic #devon bostick #salad days #my stuff #Spotify

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jessysapphireblue · 11 months ago

Text

One Piece Advent Calender Door 17

Door 17: Getting the Supplies

“A date with my beloved Goddess”, Sanji almost flew behind you with hearts, while you looked at the shopping list. “Sanji, your creepy side shows” “Ah, sorry sorry”, he stopped and went to you. “How should we do it?”, you asked. “If you want we can go together!!!” “But it would take double the time, and you´re already busy as it is”

The cook swore, he nearly died when you said it in a soft, concerning voice. “MY GODDESS~~~”, he swooned loudly and hugged you close, praising you like there was no tomorrow, and people began to look at you both, some snickering, some cooing.

“S-Sanji” “Oh my beloved! You light my day like an angel, carry me away with your love to the Garden of Eden, just the two of us! No one else~ I´ll be your slave for all eternity~” “S-Sanji, please” “Ah, my beloved you-” Picking his nose, he yelped shortly and let you finally free. “Thank you, Sanji. Following. You do half of the list, I do the other one”, you swiftly folded and ripped the list in half. “There! You take care of the meat we need, and I get these things like cabbage, fruits and everything else. Does that sound ok to you?” “B-But the date”, he looked so depressed.

“URGH!”, you groaned. “If you get protective over me because some store clerk or ANY guy that talks to me, I am gone and you do it yourself, understood?”, you said serious and Sanji´s nose already began to drip. “Y-You mean-”

You started walking. “You comming now or not?” “OM MY WAY!”, you swore he used soru or anything similar, how fast he was by you.

Walking from store to store you both bought the stuff needed, and Sanji had to bite down his jacket whenever a male talked to you, no matter the age. Even if it were little boys from the Christmas cards you did few days prior asked if Soma was by you again.

“Do you seriously got jealous of the children?”, you laughed softly. “My Goddess! A male is a male!” Laughing more, he began to swoon again from your laughter. “Ah, you´re simply perfect~” “Me? I´m not perfect! Nobody is...so” You spotted an empty bench and went there with Sanji. “Sanji, stay here for a bit. Rest your arms from all the grocery shopping, I come back soon, Promise”

He sat down and watched you run away, his heart warmed. You were always so kind to him, gentle and a big help in the kitchen, even if it was just simple serving of the food. “Damn Luffy. If you break her heart I will break you...”, he growled a little as you came back. “Thanks for waiting. Here. I got you some hot coffee and a crepe. What would you like? I have Banana and chocolate chips with peanuts or with some hot cherrys and vanilla”

“You-thank you” he said and took the coffee. He didn´t wanted to admit it but he did needed something hot. “I saw how you began to freeze and I thought you could use something warm. So what would you like?” “Oh, the banana one” Smiling, you handed him the crepe before taking a bite out of yours.

“This is nice”, he said and you looked at the blond cook, his smile genuine and soft. “what is?” “This. I had a lot of fun shopping with you” “Sanji, I already told you that I join you. Can´t you get everything alone! It isn´t fair...” “But still- Thank you” “Of course. But dont worry about me. I can defend myself...I have the higher bounty than Zoro” “Haha! Mosshead got overthrown by a girl”

“Oh why yes! Want a bite from my crepe?” “I-I-Indirect-” An indirect kiss with his Goddess?! Sanji was freaking out. Leaning to it, his mouth began to shake as “UH! YUMMY!”, Luffy appeared from behind the bench and took a big bite from it. “LUFFY!”, both of you shouted. “HOT! HOT HOT HOT!”, he said with full mouth as you laughed a little, Sanji felt depressive yet again. “You runied my indirect kiss with my Goddess”, Sanji fell into the snow. “What´s wrong, Sanji?” Luffy was confused. “Uh! Hot choco!” “Here, take a sip”, you smiled and handed him your cup as he drank but put his tounge out. “No. Your´s is better”

“Because I spoiled you...why are you even here?” “HEHE! I got lost”, he stated proudly “This is not something to be proud off, Capatin” “No? well then” “Ok, let us go back to the sunny, we have everything now” “Yes please. I´m getting hungry and have no money”, Luffy whined loudly.

And with that, Sanji, Luffy and you went back to the Sunny, the boys carrying the supplies while you drank your hot chocolate slowly to an end.

#luffy #luffy x oc #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy #one piece #straw hat luffy #anime and manga #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #groceryshopping #platonic friendship sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #blackleg sanji

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misterdetectiveswag · 6 months ago

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IV. ONE MORE CHANCE.2

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇/𝐂 male woke up then immediately got up and continued reading the article he started last night. he wanted to research more about Itoshi Sae. he managed to gather up a bunch of new information about the striker and before you ask "why was he doing this?" he doesn't know either. maybe he wanted to play with him, maybe it's because he wants to get to know him, or maybe he just wanted to play better; it was probably that.

well, now that he found out more stuff about how he plays and his techniques. he might as well give it a try and mimic it in his own way. maybe then he'd be able to get the help he asked for a while back without facing him again.

———

after a few hours of practicing in his backyard, he managed to get used to the feel of playing like Itoshi Sae. he knew it was definitely more aggravated and aggressive than what his coaches had given him in the past.

you know, following this type of training, maybe he'll be on par with Sae Itosh-!..ow. maybe he should've stretched before trying out something like this..his body hurts like hell.

———

after doing what needed to be done. he took a shower and wore some comfortable clothes. his mom had asked him to buy her something when he got home and he decided to do it now. he walked inside a small grocery store, he just wanted some stuff.

he skimmed through the shelves and his eyes landed on the kombucha tea. he went to grab it but another got to it first. the h/c male snapped his head to the person who decided to snatch the box when it was obvious that he was gonn-. oh.

he looked at the male in front of him. he swears he was gonna kill whichever God was responsible for giving him terrible luck to meet Itoshi Sae after the lastest interaction. the boy blinked at him repeatedly hoping that what he was seeing was a hallucination.

"..."

sae just turned away and attempted to walk away. how rude!

"hey! I wanted that pack too you know." he said with a hint of irritation lacing through his voice.

sae stopped and just said "so?"

the boy was beyond disrespectful! the fact that he didn't even turn to look at him only infuriated him more.

"what do you mean 'so'?!" he was trying his hardest to stay mature but given that he was just a young boy did not help!

"I said what I said. I dont care what you think either." the h/c boy was holding back the urge to make a scene, although some people were already looking.

the boy huffed as he pestered sae itoshi to no end. I guess you could say that it was his karma.

———

even when sae had purchased and went out of the market the h/c boy was still annoying him to no end and the people who were familiar with him knew he did not have the patience or time to deal with someone like the male.

but even though he ignored the boy, it was obvious that he wouldn't take no for an answer after what he did. how annoying..

sae finally decided to give in and acknowledge him.

"what."

"oh my god! finally, you responded. anyways, tell me why the hell you stole my tea!"

"does it have your name on it?"

"well, no. but it was obvious I was about to get it!"

'hes quite stubborn..' sae thought while looking at the male with a blank look which may have exasperated the boy even more.

"you didn't even buy it yet." he blinked at the male again "and you could've gotten another pack of the same thing instead of making a scene."

"..."

that seemed to shut the boy up and he was stammering to find the right words to reply but he decided to shut up

to rub salt into the wound, sae said "but you didn't." it wasn't even that bad of an insult but regardless it still seemed to pain the male's ego.

finally, the male seemed to think of a reply "the point is that you don't have respect for me or anyone for that matter!"

"why does it matter? it's not like you're not worthy of my respect."

...

"excuse me! I am most definitely worthy of any person's respect!" the male declared while listing down the reasons why he was one.

to no one's surprise sae wasn't listening. he was more interested in the thought of drinking the kombucha tea when he got home..

———

"are you done yapping?" sae spoke out with a tone of boredom.

"for your information, I was not yapping," he mumbled while following sae.

"why're you still following me?"

"because why not."

"... you're annoying."

"you too"

the two were back talking to each other like there was no tomorrow, but atleast it seemed like the h/c let go of sae 'stealing' his tea.

EXTRA / ADDITIONAL TIME:

sae doesn't want to mention how he find the other male's presence quite comfortable and m/n doesn't wanna let sae know he enjoys annoying him. how cute.

(edited- 02/03/24)

masterlist.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock manga #blue lock spoilers #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x you #blue lock x male reader

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a-one-eyed-menace-official-blog · 2 months ago

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So there’s an instance in the first three chapters? Can’t remember which one exactly and I am very tired and can’t be bothered to look back but I know that Bill eats a pen, and in the original idea where Bill and Ford get together at the party instead of later, he steals Fords pen and eats it. Here’s the whole scene that I had written out before it changed:

Stan found out, of course he did, they couldn’t hide it not when they were all cramped together in one house, and he had some choice words about it that the twins weren’t allowed to hear, but in the end he was fine. At least he claimed he was, he seemed to be a little more hostile in the coming weeks. Bill didnt care, Ford was the only one whose opinion really mattered. That and Mabel, who seemed incredibly enthusiastic about their whole situation.

The thing with Ford was easy, nothing really changed. Ford was still both a huge awkward bumbling mess and a cool scientist who Pinetree looked up to. Cool was a relative word here but he’d never say that he didn’t think he was cool to his face, mostly because it partially wasn’t true.

It had been a couple weeks since the party and Ford was sitting in Stan’s armchair with a book where he had been writing notes in the margins, normally that was something painfully boring that Bill ignored but he loved the Gravity Falls public access TV so he was currently perched on the arm, eye glued to the TV. Dipper was helping Soos and Wendy in the gift shop, Stan didn’t have to work so he was out with Mabel at the store.

He was pretty much glued to the TV, that is until a crunching noise shook him out of it and he looked to his side to see Ford… chewing on his pen. He snorted and took it away from him. “What’s so tasty! Huh IQ?” He asked before taking a big bite of the pen, not realizing that with his sharp teeth he’d cut through the plastic like butter. Ink exploded all over his face, it got into his mouth and stained his teeth black. It tasted absolutely awful and he was pretty sure he swallowed some of it.

He jumped off the arm and was rubbing at his face, staining his yellow sleeve black. Ford laughed at him, the jerk, and he made direct eye contact before snapping his fingers and summoning one of the three pens out of his front coat pocket before biting off the top and knocking back the ink like it was a shot. Which was what Dipper Pines walked in on in the middle of asking a question “Hey Uncle Ford, Soos was wondering if-“ He paused, taking in the scene of Bill chugging ink and Ford looking both disgusted and amused.

“Why can’t you two just be normal?” He said before slowly backing up through the staff only door.

Bill immediately started laughing, ink was probably staining his mouth and lips and teeth and he didn’t want to know what his sleeve looked like. “You know I think you’re on to something Fordsy!”

“Can you even digest ink?”

“Maybe.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means maybe!”

Ford immediately stopped smiling “Bill, that ink wasn’t non-toxic.”

“Then why were you chewing on it!?”

“It’s a nervous habit!” He argued.

“Well!” He went back to wiping the ink off of his mouth “I’ll probably be fine, I’m not human, remember?”

Ford got up “Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re going to the hospital.”

“What?”

What followed was a trip to the Gravity Falls local hospital, which had more squirrels than doctors, and a procedure that determined that Bill would be fine. He had even been asked for an x-ray and honestly Ford was surprised that after seeing the contents that they could look him in the eye, and by the time they got back to the Shack Stan and Mabel were back with crinkling grocery bags.

“What happened to the pirate over there?” Stan asked when they walked in, noticing the ink stained Bill.

“I drank ink.”

“Why?” Mabel asked “Was it good?”

“Yes, and no you can’t have any! I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could drink some and survive.”

“Still weird!” Dipper called.

Bill was about to move forward to help with the groceries, and terrorize Pinetree, when his hand was grabbed and he was pulled back a bit “Bill?”

“Ford?”

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I told I’d be fine!” He turned so he could pat his cheek “You worry too much Sixer.”

#billford #gravity falls #fanfic blog #my writing

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lover-of-mine · 1 year ago

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Yk, I'm a believer that Eddie went through all the stages of realizing he's actually in love with Buck and is now settled in the acceptance that he will be Buck's best man and it's trying to be okay with it. I don't think that at this point you can say Eddie doesn't know. I think Buck doesn't know how to name it, because he always loves with all he has and he thinks romantic love is this all consuming thing and Eddie is safety so he doesn't fully understand what they have. But Eddie knows. And it goes back to the beginning, to Buck stepping up with Chris without being asked to and never making Eddie feel like a bad parent, just realizing he needs help. But because of the Shannon of it all he didn't stop to consider those feelings until the tsunami and the lawsuit. The there's no one in this world i trust with my son more than you is very telling but I also don't think Eddie stopped to consider what it meant that he actually means that. And then Eddie lost his footing not being able to talk to Buck because he got used to Buck always being there, because up until that point Buck has always been there. It's why he gets so mad at Buck and there's the grocery store of it all because that's not a fight you have with your best friend, you don't bring up your kid to make your best friend feel bad for leaving you, you just don't, and also the way Eddie just let it go the second Buck apologized for not considering him in his decision. And he spends a while ignoring his feelings, until the well. Signing a legal document that makes a guy you've known for like, 2 years, who's single and has no kids of his own, the legal guardian of your kid is crazy. Like, Eddie's lawyer probably stared at him like he was insane because one, Eddie has living family that's very willing to take care of Chris and two, Buck is also a firefighter and not only he's a firefighter, he's Eddie's partner, so if Eddie is in danger, Buck is probably in danger too. And he just does that. And doesn't mention it. And I feel like that is because, mentioning would mean thinking about his reasonings to do it and thinking about his reasonings would be thinking about Buck's place in his life and more importantly his feelings for Buck and he didn't want to do that. But then he got shot. And he was trying to reach Buck. He asked if Buck was hurt as if he was not bleeding out. And sure, you can brush it off as he needs Buck to be okay because one of them needs to go home to Christopher, but when he tells Buck about the will, it's not really about Chris, is about Buck acting like he somehow matters less and Eddie can't have that. Then there's the PTSD of it all too, but with the PTSD, there's Eddie going to therapy and learning how to stop moving past things. You can't tell me season 6 Eddie doesn't know. Because he does. He's just living in his bubble with Buck and Chris and acting like that's enough and hoping that maybe Buck will get where he is eventually until Buck dies and meets someone else and Eddie has the revelation that he's not what Buck wants, so he needs to move on. It's very interesting that Eddie decides to date after Buck makes it seem like this random woman is the love of his life, because what it tells him is that he's never gonna have that. But Buck thinks love is work, but in that way that makes him ready to kill himself to make it work, and he hasn't realized the amount of work he's put into his relationship with Eddie and that Eddie is right there with him and doesn't realize that he already has the thing he's searching for. So Eddie knows but accepted it's never gonna happen and Buck needs someone to shake him so he can have his oh moment.

#i found this half written on my drafts #so here #have this #its not one am and im not delirious with half asleep on the couch but still #buddie thoughts are always running around my head kspakapaaoakao #anyway #911 #buddie #thoughts thoughts thoughts #wait this is longer than i expected it to be kspakapakapa #long post #?#buddie thoughts #911 meta

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masterwords · 2 years ago

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Summary: Derek misses Hotch while he's working at the Seattle Field Office.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: mentions of sex (not graphic)

Words: 1.7k

Notes: Pure, unadulterated cute. I sprinted out the entire barebones rough draft in 20 minutes and did my best to flesh it out but there just isn't a lot of substance here. It's just sweet, adorable, idiots in love...pwp but the cute no smut version.

“You've been gone for fourteen days...” Derek moans, spinning around in his chair. It's way too late to still be in the office, he knows, but it's the only time he gets to talk to Hotch who is 3 hours behind him in Seattle. The time difference feels surreal.

Short and fast, that was what they'd said. They needed someone to fill in and run the Seattle Field Office while they found a new leader, a week tops. They already had someone in mind. Except that person bailed, and now they're back at square one and well...the BAU has Derek to keep them in line, so Hotch has been over in the Emerald City for fourteen days and counting.

This isn't as bad as his station in Pakistan, but Derek had lulled himself into a false sense of security. It wouldn't happen again. That was an aberration. They'd tried to tap Hotch for Section Chief, and he always wound up right at his desk in the BAU like he belonged there.

But fourteen days...two weeks...that's when a short trip starts feeling an awful lot like something with real permanence.

“I think they've got their eye on someone,” Hotch says absentmindedly, pouring over a stack of employee evaluations that were turned in to him that day. He doesn't even know these people, he's just signing off on things. Putting his signature out there on things he can't exactly back up. It's not his usual prerogative, but these are desperate times. He's just a suit in a chair. Except he knows the truth...they love him here, they've wanted him back since he left and someone thought maybe bringing him here might remind him how much he loved this office too.

And he does. It's been a breath of fresh air being back in Seattle. But he can't live here, his family won't follow.

“I just want you home.”

“How has it been with you and Jack?”

“Great. He's great, he listens to me, we've been playing lots of games and eating lots of junk food...”

“Derek...”

“What? When the cat's away...”

That's not true. Derek hasn't fed Jack any junk food, that's been all Jessica who stops at the grocery store every day before picking Jack up for school and brings them some kind of treat. Ice cream, candy bars, sugary breakfast cereal, She eats her feelings. She also doesn't like when you point that out.

“How much longer?”

“I don't know.”

Gifts started showing up in Seattle on the third day. Nothing major. Just lunch, a burger and fries delivered to Hotch's desk from The Athenian.

“Sleepless in Seattle?” Hotch texted and Derek sent back a little red heart. He had enough to take back to the hotel and eat for dinner as well, though it didn't make it that far in the end. He ate his dinner at his desk as well...one of those days.

Never one to be outdone, he made sure coffee and pastries were waiting for Derek when he arrived at work the next morning.

And so it went, each exchanging little gifts of food and flowers from three thousand miles apart. Hotch hadn't even considered what he would have to eat in forever, Derek had it scheduled every day like clockwork. Jessica called it twisted. “Here I am gaining ten pounds with all the ice cream I have to buy myself and you two are playing cross-country footsie. It's disgusting.”

The next morning there was a chocolate croissant and a coffee waiting for her at her desk. Neither of them told her who was responsible and it didn't matter, it made her day. She was in on the game.

Donuts were sent to Jack's classroom courtesy of Voodoo Donuts. Hotch had to make a trip down to Portland to meet with another SAC and figured why not. Jack's classroom would get a kick out of the wild colors and silly little voodoo doll shapes, and he got to spend an hour waiting outside in the rain in a line that stretched around the block. Some might grumble at that, but Hotch likes the rain and he loves not being cooped up inside of an office building. Sure, he was cold and miserable, but he was also happy. (And out quite a pretty penny when all was said and done, shipping a box of donuts across the country fast enough to keep them relatively fresh wasn't cheap.)

He got a hot drip coffee and a fresh maple bar for his troubles.

“Seventeen days...” Derek whines. He's temping his roasted chicken, which he should have put in earlier, he knows that dammit. He's angry when it's still ten degrees below where he needs it. That's at least another half hour, they're going to be eating late again. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

A bouquet of bright orange tiger lilies shows up at his office around mid-morning on a day when Hotch has been feeling rather under the weather. He's had a headache for three days, the kind that makes your jaw tight and your teeth sing. It could be his sinuses or maybe dehydration, maybe it's just his body telling him it needs a rest. He hasn't had a day off since he arrived in Seattle, not really. They're no closer to finding someone to take over than they were the week prior, no one wants the job. The flowers make him smile in spite of the way his tight jaw clicks and groans like rusty old machinery.

“Thank you,” he says when Derek calls later. At their designated time. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“So are you...” Derek says quietly. “That tie looks nice. Is it new?”

“I found it at a little consignment shop on my lunch hour a couple of days – wait..”

He looks up, and in the doorway to the unit Derek is standing with another smaller bouquet of flowers in his hands. Peach and white peonies, the color of a sigh, the gentle color of a spring sunset. He looks like a kid ready for his prom date. Hope is smeared across his features.

“Twenty-two days...” he says, handing Hotch the flowers. “I know I shouldn't be here, but I thought sneaking into your hotel room and surprising you there might get me shot.”

“You're not wrong.”

Hotch shouldn't leave, he knows he has too much to do but he hasn't had a day off in twenty-two days and one night isn't going to cause irreparable damage.

The next day, when he calls in sick because his headache has reached its crescendo and he'd much rather lie in the hotel room with Derek all day than go sit at that desk. They make good use of room service, barely leave the bed. The view from the room is picturesque, a full and un-obscured view of the Puget Sound from over the top of the concrete jungle. Not even a crane gets in their way.

They drink their coffee on the balcony, smelling the briny air before heading back to the bed. They make love enough times that Hotch loses count, showering and sleeping and eating briefly between. He loses count, but he also loses the headache somewhere along the way and he'll take both of those things gladly. Twenty-two days apart had created a hunger in them that neither had realized until they were here sharing the same air, the same timezone, and this time (unlike Pakistan) there were no hard feelings to work through. Just making up for lost time the best way they knew how, with hands and lips and a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.

“So...what the hell is a consignment shop anyway?” Derek asks, still thinking about what Hotch said about his new tie while popping a strawberry into his mouth. Hotch hums and hunts for something to watch on the TV. They'll barely pay attention to it anyway but the noise is nice. It drowns out the way that neither one of them seems to be able to keep their inevitable moans in check. And why should they have to? It's been three weeks since they've even been in a room together, so if they get a little carried away between the sheets who can really blame them?

It isn't just about sex, they take short cat naps in their love-warm sheets and they do talk a little, too. Just enough. But they've been talking so much lately, it's all they've been able to do, that it doesn't feel very important. While they sit and visit over meals and drinks, Derek leans against Hotch, keeps one hand anchored on his thigh or his shoulder or his back at all times. And Hotch makes no attempt to break away. Time will do that for them soon enough.

“It's a secondhand store. I found something for you, too.”

Derek wears his new cashmere sweater back at Quantico when he returns from his whirlwind surprise trip and everyone notices. It's the color of rich, deep purple-almost-black plums and the way it sits against his warm skin is breathtaking. Penelope can't stop touching him. Running her hands up and down his arms. It even smells good.

“It smells like Hotch,” he says when she comments on it later. She purses her lips and doesn't really know what to say to that. She's rarely speechless.

“He really knows you.” She'd looked up the tag, gasped and nearly died of sticker-shock, and then tried to remind herself he'd purchased the thing secondhand. Or, he claimed to have anyway. She wouldn't put it past him to tell Derek that just to ensure that he wore the damn thing.

“I would hope so, after all this time.”

“How much longer? We all miss him. It's not fair, those stinky Seattle people get him and we're stuck here without our boss-man.”

Derek smiles and glances at his phone, ready for it to ring. Hotch said he'd be the one to call tonight. “Soon.”

“That's what you said last time.”

“And it's what I'll keep saying until it's true. Now get outta here so I can talk to my man in peace.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #fanfiction

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