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kaylinalexanderbooks · 8 months ago

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Get to Know Me tag

Ultimate Addition

Been tagged with multiple versions of this. Will do this all in one.

And maybe this will be the definitive version.

Thanks to: @herrmannhalsteadproduction here, @sleepywriter00 here, @mk-writes-stuff here and here, @dyrewrites here, @infinnative here, @buffythevampirelover here, and @mysticstarlightduck here.

Tagging @illarian-rambling @gottestod-writes @cowboybrunch @blind-the-winds @uninspired-platypuss @little-peril-stories @loopyhoopywrites @its-on-site @aalinaaaaaa @randomlettrrsqqssfxwcvhxnqbwriro @thepeculiarbird + anyone else

(y'all don't have to do all of these - pick one. Honestly you can do all of them but like...only if you really want to)

Version 1

Last Song - Driving the Last Spike (Genesis)

Currently Watching - Star Trek Voyager in my trek marathon, still have a little bit of Phineas and Ferb to rewatch, MythBusters, Whose Line is it Anyway, The Bad Batch as it comes out, and I keep forgetting the last bit of Hamster and Gretel is on D+ rip

Three Ships - uhhh the least controversial I feel will be Robin/Starfire (Teen Titans), Kirk/Spock (Star Trek), and Dakota/Cavendish (Milo Murphy's Law)

Favorite color - T E A L 🩵💚 it slaps. Btw this: 🩵 is not teal but it's the emoji that pops up when I type teal wtf teal is GREENER that's like cyan which also has the same emoji I'm sick of people calling light blue teal

Currently reading - beta reading Whispers by @magic-is-something-we-create and making my way through Purple Hyacinth on Webtoon

Currently consuming - uh just woke up will have my coffee in a bit

Place of birth - Earth

Currently location - pretty sure it's Earth

Last movie - True Lies (first time watching)

Version 2

Are you named after anyone? No my mom was sick of the family name she was given so revolted against peer pressure.

When was the last time you cried? Uhh couple days ago got caught in traffic due to an accident and went a separate way only to find myself on the feeder road with more traffic from another accident so I had to pull into a Jaguar parking lot before I got full a panic attack

Do you have kids? No please dear God. Future students are my kids.

What sport do you/have you played? Soccer when I was like in kindergarten.

Do you sarcasm? See next answer

What's the first thing you notice about someone? That they exist

Eye color? Brown

Scary movie or happy ending? These aren't opposites?? Scary movies have happy endings! So happy endings.

Any talents? Uh, writing, I guess. Media analysis. I can read fast. I'm Gen Z and can write in cursive. I kick ass at the puzzle match mini game on Wii Party.

Where were you born? *Double checks* yeah still Earth

Hobbies? Writing, reading, watching TV, scrolling through Tumblr, media analysis, watching YouTube, daydreaming, listening to music, useless data analysis

Any pets? Two cats

Height? 5'4

Favorite subject? ELAR (reading/writing) that's why I want to teach it

Dream job? See above

Version 3

Currently reading - answered this above

Last song - I'm doing this on a different day (sorry) and now it's Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen)

Currently watching - said above

Current fic - uh I'm just reading the stuff I already said

Current hyperfixation - brain recently has been toggling between Phineas and Ferb, Teen Titans (2003), Avatar The Last Airbender, Megamind, and my WIP The Secret Portal so uh pick one

Favorite color - T E A L

Sweet/spicy/savory - I guess savory but yeah depends on mood

Relationship status - happily dating ❤️

Last thing I Googled - Ming-Na Wen (wanted to know her age. She's 60)

Song stuck in my head - currently Somebody To Love (Queen - was listening to the greatest hits)

Favorite food - my dad's food, specifically his Cincinnati chili and his cake

Dream trip - New Zealand or Tokyo

Version 4

(highlight what describes you)

APPEARANCE

Dark hair* // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don't often smile// I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

*up for debate

ACTIVITIES/INTERESTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami* // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

*with instructions and not well

RELATIONSHIPS

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year// I have a crush* // I have a friend I've known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend+ // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship^ // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

*does my gf count as a crush? I still act like it lol

+am dating

^i think this is referring to romance but I do have other friends in other states

SEASONS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sunrise* // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colours // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

*I think once could be making that up

Take your bets if I'm an outdoorsy person (nope)

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of Sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower* // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed+ // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

*quietly

+used to

EDIT: I've decided to add onto this post whenever I get a new get to know me tag, so from here on out this was not in the original post

Version 5

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts (glasses) / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts (I think some of them count?) / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports (was in soccer in kindergarten haha) / I play an instrument (used to, violin) / i know more than one language (I know some ASL but I've forgotten most of it... ) / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years (Cado, how has it been seven years almost????) / I am an only child

Version 6

Last song: as of answering this, technically I watched Psych so the theme song!

Favorite color: you should know this at this point in the post

Currently watching: Psych like I said, also Star Trek Voyager and a few on the side still (see above)

Sweet/spicy/savory: see Version 3

Current obsession: ...Psych but also my WIPs :)

Last thing I googled: thesaurus because I was doing the @sipofsnips and didn't have the word this morning

Favorite season: they all suck but I'll go with fall

Skill I'd like to learn: I want to draw good

Best advice: "thinking about it counts as working on it" because it's changed my outlook on how much I get done in a day, "progress is progress" for similar reasons but more general, and generally that if you burn yourself out trying to do everything nothing gets done

Woo! This was a LOT holy shit. Hope you know more about me!

Version 7

A scent you love: ooh cookies baking smells wonderful

Something you're looking forward to this week: finals finished yesterday which means more free time for me! I get to catch up on reading and writing!!

Currently reading: beta for Whispers by @magic-is-something-we-create WHICH I CAN FINALLY GET BACK TO WOOOO

Currently playing: not a video game person sorry - but I've been occasionally picking at mobile games like Animal Restaurant

Most recent movie: uh... When did I last watch a movie?? I think it was True Lies?? First time watching. Wasn't expecting it to be as chaotic as it was.

Current show: Star Trek Voyager and Psych! Partially rewatch/first time watching every episode and total rewatch respectively! I've not seen either since middle school so this is super exciting

Favorite season: autumn because it's starting to get cooler and pollen isn't everywhere

Recently learned: took a life in the universe class this semester and learned a lot about life in the universe (obviously) and while I have mixed feelings about the class MAN the content was fascinating

Water intake: currently drinking water like always :) । have to pee

#not writing #get to know me #tag game

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scienceoftheidiot · 2 years ago

Note

There are too many things I want to ask, so there we go:

😅 😈 ✨ 💋 ⛔ 🍦 🍷 🌞 💖 ❌ 🎯 👀 🤗 🤲 ⏳ 💔 💥 🤭

(feel free to pick just some of them honestly)

And sorry for the inconvenience, it'll happen again

Ahahahaaaa omg no inconvenience there you're making my day <3 for real. So since there's so many I have decided to cut it in three, and start with the first 6, then I'll reblog when I have time to continue with another batch. (might happen right away, might not, lol).

Thank you so, so much for this :)

😅 What’s a story or scene you’ve created that you’re a smidge embarrassed exists?

Well. Smut. The smut fic, "Burn". I really am embarrassed I posted it but the worst is that it will happen again, since there IS smut in one of the fics I'm writing. Maybe in more than one. Somehow Royai has unleashed my smut writing side ^^" (the enabler will recognize themselves). So like. I'm embarrassed. But I'm having too much fun to stop. Oops.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Hm. No. I don't think so ? But there's one I plan in a fic I haven't started writing, just planning (not alone...). A little twist that you'll fall right in if you know me and what I write, and that I find fitting for the fic and as a nod to canon. You won't know more lol.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Eeeeh. I for sure write exactly what my target audience (me) wants.

Is that okay ?

Okay I think I might be alright at writing soft/tender scenes? I do love to write them, at least.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

I. Tend to write first kisses over and over again. So hum. Do I really need to answer this question?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

No. I put them on the back burner but rarely scrap them. The one I pushed the further away is an Ishval fic that I feel I need to read more of the source material to write. So, who knows. I have incredibly long fics to write before this one XD

🍦 What’s the sweetest fic you’ve created so far?

Like, sweet, as in there is no trace of angst and only fluff in it ? Or am I allowed some angst ? I have some coming to mind from different fandoms.

For Royai I'm sorry but sweet with no angst is something I haven't come up with yet. And probably won't lol. I guess you can go with this extremely short prompt answer OR this fic that could actually stand by itself I think ? It's sweet alright but really starts with angst soooo (this is all I can write with those two. Whatever happens everything will be bittersweet... suits them). This one, for the Daredevil fandom, is just Foggy getting Matt a present for his birthday, resulting in him getting his signature glasses. It's just what it says on the tin. Sweet and fun friendship fic.

I even found one for the Ripper Street fandom, guys! lol

Original stuff has a lot of fluff but hey have some drunk friends silliness, here.

Here's for the first 6 answers lol stay tuned XD thanks again !!

Send me some emoji asks ? (Or reblog and get one from me 👀)

#replies #ask game #royai #fanfiction #writing #magipies

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.”

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

Smitten was not the word you would use. It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign.

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy. -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering. Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter.

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry?

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” -- “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.”

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. ��Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike Imagine #Odd Hours//Getting Even #Tumblr was doing WEIRD formatting things so i'm sorry if anything looks wonky??#Marcus Pike

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ayybtch · 4 years ago

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Snickerdoodles

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader, Baker!AU + Friends to Lovers

Chapter 2 of Made With Love

Word Count: 3,198

Chapter Warnings: so sweet it’ll give you a cavity, some not so subtle wlw yearning from the reader, and a brief little moment of angst that will make you want to hug Wanda

A/N: A special thank you to @thefallenbibliophilequote for giving this a beta read for me! Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

You were sitting at home watching TV when your phone lit up with a text notification from Wanda. You smiled and leaned over to grab your phone.

Bucky is asking about chocolate chip cookies again. He’s driving me nuts!

You chuckled at the message as you typed out a reply, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed for your sake at how persistent he is. Though, we should probably take it as a sign you’re due for another baking lesson. How do snickerdoodles sound?

Wanda agreed almost immediately and the two of you worked out a time for later that week.

Mindlessly, you scrolled back up and started rereading some of your old conversations. It had been just over two weeks since Wanda had found her way into the bakery and made her disastrous batch of chocolate chip cookies. She had texted you not long after she left the bakery that night and the two of you had texted sporadically since. Her texts had started off very polite, if not outright formal.

Hi. It’s Wanda. I know I sound like a broken record, but I really do appreciate what you did today.

That had been her first message. Since then, the messages gradually became more casual. Most recently she had sent you a video Sam had recorded of Bucky begging her to make cookies on their flight home from a mission with nothing more than a series of eye-roll emojis.

It was strange having a superhero take time out of her day to text you. Though, you couldn't deny the fact that each time she did, it left you grinning like an idiot. It’s not that you think poorly of yourself or that you thought you weren’t worthy of being friends with someone like her; it had far more to do with how unexpected it was. In fact, the whole process of meeting her was unexpected. How many other people alive were lucky enough to say that an Avenger casually walked into their kitchen asking to bake cookies?

And how many people could say they had anyone, let alone an Avenger, smile at them the way Wanda smiled at you?

You groaned at your own stupidity and forced yourself to put your phone down. That was enough ridiculousness for the day. You didn’t need to feed into this silly little crush you were developing. Wanda was your friend, nothing more.

It was three days later when Wanda finally walked back into the bakery. She stepped inside right as you finished tying your apron around your waist. You greeted her with a bright smile, which she returned in kind.

“Hey, how has your day been?” you asked.

She shrugged, “It’s been a day but something tells me it’s about to get better.”

You tried not to show how flustered her words made you and rushed over to the sink to wash your hands. Wanda stood next to you and waited patiently for her turn. While she was washing her hands, you started speaking.

“Okay so, snickerdoodles are the best cookies in existence and are stupid easy to make. Most of the process is similar to what we did for chocolate chip cookies, but there are a few differences. Why don’t we start off with having you refamiliarize yourself with where everything is in here?” You hand her the recipe you had written out for her, “Here you go. Grab everything you can find.”

Wanda read through the list carefully and was soon rummaging through the cabinets. She set each ingredient on the counter next to you as she found it until it looked like she had most of her items, but she kept pausing to reread the list. Her eyebrows were furrowed together as she turned to look back into the fridge, only to come back to the counter empty-handed.

Her expression was a mixture of confusion and determination at the same time as her eyes focused on the ingredient list. It shouldn’t have been as cute as it was, but you couldn’t help but stare at the woman in front of you. It was almost shocking how green they were. Even when sad, her eyes were filled with warmth and kindness. Her mouth twisted slightly and drew your attention downwards. Were they naturally that pink? Or had she lucked out and found the most perfect shade of pink lipstick? They looked so soft and plump too, perfect lips for kissing...

You snapped back into focus as she said your name. “I’m sorry what was that? My mind drifted.”

She smiled and repeated herself. “The only things I’m missing are Crisco and cream of tartar. I looked in the fridge for the cream of tartar, but I didn’t see it and I have no idea where to begin with Crisco.”

You nodded as you walked towards one of the cabinets, opening it up as you began to speak. “I like your reasoning behind the cream of tartar, but unfortunately its name is a bit misleading. It’s a powder so it’s in the same cabinet as the cinnamon and sugar. The Crisco is up here too.”

You grabbed both items and set them next to the rest of the ingredients. Wanda picked up the can of Crisco and looked at it curiously.

“What is vegetable shortening?” she asked. She opened up the can and stared at the white solid inside. “It almost looks like butter, but it’s also so white it almost looks like plastic?” The confusion on her face perfectly matched the confusion that seeped into her voice.

You nodded along as she spoke, “It’s kind of like butter, which you can also use for this recipe if you wanted to. I think they turn out better when you make them with Crisco personally so I’ll only use butter if I’m in a pinch.

“Okay, so now we’re going to measure out two cups of Crisco into the mixer and start creaming it. From there we’ll gradually start adding in the sugar, cream of tartar, salt, and baking soda.”

Wanda nodded and got to work. As she scooped out the Crisco and smushed it into the measuring cup, she made a face that had you grinning.

“What’s with the look?”

She made it again as she continued working. “Don’t laugh at me, but it feels funny. I know it’s not that different from butter, but I usually don’t have to touch butter this much to figure out the amount! It’s gross.”

You didn’t laugh but continued to grin for the entire time she measured out the Crisco. A sigh of relief left her as she finally finished with the Crisco and got to wash her hands.

“These better be the best cookies on the planet after making me touch that,” she said, giving you a teasing look.

A sheepish smile spread across your face as she spoke. “I hate to tell you this...but you’re going to end up touching the cookie dough again. Like, you are going to be touching it a lot.” You cut off her groan and continued to the next step in the recipe, “Now we’re going to add the eggs and milk.”

She nodded and began measuring out how much milk she needed. Once that was done, the eggs were added in and she turned the mixer back on. She waited a few minutes before turning the mixer back off. “Time for the flour now, yes?” she asked, turning to face you. You nodded and she began measuring it out.

After the last of the flour was added, she reached for the switch on the mixer.

Before you even thought to remind her to start slow, the mixer was going full speed and flour was flying everywhere. Wanda rushed to turn it off but by the time she did, she was covered head to toe in a dusting of flour.

She stared over at you with wide eyes for a moment before bursting out laughing.

You had heard her laugh before, but never like this. This was full-bellied, tears running down her face laughter. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Hell, you were willing to bet it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever be fortunate enough to hear. Soon you were laughing along with her.

Each time the laughter started to die, Wanda looked down at her clothing and burst out laughing all over again. It took almost five minutes for the two of you to calm down enough to even start to think about getting back to the cookies.

“Well, I guess I’m doing laundry after this.” She shook her head rapidly and more flour came floating down off her hair, making her giggle. “And I think a shower might also be in order.”

You started laughing again at her words. “We’ll have to get you an apron to help protect your clothes. Though, if you keep turning a mixer on to full speed like that it still won’t do you much good,” you teased.

Wanda stuck out her tongue in response before slowly starting the mixer back up. She stared into the bowl as the flour began to mix in with the rest of the ingredients and her face twisted.

“How do we know that there’s enough flour still in there with how much just flew out?”

You just shrugged, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If it’s too sticky when we start trying to form the balls we’ll add in some more.”

The dough mixed for another couple of minutes before Wanda turned it off. You leaned over and pinched off a tiny piece of the dough and rolled it around in your hands before popping it into your mouth.

A satisfied hum left your mouth and you nodded enthusiastically. “It’s perfect,” you said. “No need for anything extra.” You reached into a drawer and grabbed two spoons before handing one to Wanda.

“So what we’re going to do now is roll them into small little balls about an inch in size. Once they’re as round as we can get them, we’re going to roll them around in the cinnamon and sugar.” You gestured towards the two bowls in front of you. “Any questions?”

Wanda shook her head no and the two of you got to work.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to get the hang of making the individual rolls and coating them evenly in the cinnamon and sugar mixture. A comfortable silence fell over you as the first batch was placed on the baking trays.

“So, what made you want to become a baker?”

You smiled as you answered, “My parents both cooked a lot when I was growing up so being in the kitchen is like second nature to me. My dad and I spent a lot of time baking together around the holidays and as I got older, I was put in charge of making whatever treats we wanted. By the time I graduated high school, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.” Wanda nodded along as you spoke. “What about you? What did you want to be before you became a superhero?”

“Definitely not a baker,” she teased, a grin spreading across her face. You chuckled and she continued. “I wanted to be a lot of different things, but one of the most consistent things was being an actress. I always thought it would be fun to star in a cheesy sitcom.”

You grinned at the thought. “You’d make a great sitcom character! Though it would be such a waste of great material if your character could bake. Between the salt last time and the flour just a minute ago, you’ve naturally got some great material right here.”

“If you don’t stop that, I will throw this cookie dough at you,” she groaned. You wiggled your eyebrows at her words.

“You know, that has to be one of the least threatening things someone has ever said to me,” you teased.

She groaned again and changed topics. “So how did you end up working here? It’s not exactly your average place to start looking for a baking job.”

You laughed and nodded along. She had a point, this was a very strange place to work in general but especially for someone who bakes for a living. “Technically, I don’t actually work for SHIELD. I’m just on loan from Stark Industries. ” She looked over at you curiously so you continued.

“I catered an event once that Tony went to, back in his pre-Iron Man days. He offered me a stupid amount of money to come work for him so I did. Right around the time he started working closely with SHIELD, I had some...creative differences with one of the other bakers he had employed so I was able to transfer over here.”

Wanda had all but stopped working as you spoke. “What do you mean by ‘creative differences’? How do bakers have creative differences?”

“It’s more of a euphemism than anything. She was my ex. We broke up and it was just a little rocky working with her after that, you know? We were still professional and all, but there was enough underlying tension that I didn’t hesitate to apply when they told us about this position.”

She nodded and slowly started working again. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again.

“Well, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out between you and her. Breakups are never easy.” Her voice was gentle and honest, which made you smile.

“Nah, don’t be sorry. People don’t work out sometimes and that’s okay.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you continued, “Besides, she thinks snickerdoodles taste better when you make them with butter. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.”

The two of you burst out laughing and the conversation resumed.

Almost an hour later, six dozen cookies were carefully being set into plastic baggies for Wanda to carry back to the Avengers quarters. Each batch had cooked up perfectly and you couldn’t help but melt at the proud look on Wanda’s face. With every batch that came out just as perfect as the last, her confidence grew until she was smiling so brightly she overpowered everything else in the room.

As she finished sealing the last bag, a satisfied hum left her and she turned to face you.

“Once again, I don’t even know where to begin thanking you. Not only for the cookies but for the time we spent together this afternoon. It’s not often that I meet people who treat me like a normal person.” Her voice was dripping with gratitude as she spoke and your face felt hot.

“Once again,” you teased, mirroring her words, “There is nothing to be thanking me for. I’m always happy to help when and where I can. But, we should probably at least try the cookies first before anything else.”

Wanda nodded enthusiastically and quickly pulled two cookies back out of the baggies. She handed you one before grabbing hers and taking her first bite.

She let out a satisfied hum as she chewed. “This is the best cookie I have ever tasted in my life,” she mumbled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she spoke. She paused abruptly and her eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh my god, I’m turning into Bucky!” she groaned, “I did not just moan over a cookie and talk with my mouth full. What is wrong with me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, if you’re going to moan and talk while you eat because of a cookie, this is the cookie to do it. I do think we’ll have to find something a little more challenging than cookies for you next time, though.”

Her eyes lit up in excitement. “What about bread? Could we do bread next?”

“Six successful batches of cookies and you think you’re ready for bread now, huh?” you teased.

Wanda took the teasing in stride and responded just as cheekily, “I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I do know how to make the most incredible snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies on the planet now. So you better watch out or I might just end up coming for your job.”

You grinned, “I’d like to see you try.”

The two of you continued to giggle at each other’s nonsense as Wanda washed her hands and began collecting the bags in her arms. “So, we’ll figure out something soon yeah?”

You nodded and moved to open the door for her as you spoke. “Definitely! It most likely won’t be bread though, I hate to break it to you.”

Wanda rolled her eyes dramatically, but the smile on her face showed she was anything but upset. The two of you said your goodbyes and she made her way out of the bakery.

As you crawled into bed that night, you couldn’t help but replay the conversations in your head. Talking with Wanda had been the most exciting social interaction you had in years. She was so genuinely interested in getting to know you and asked you so many questions about yourself, but was never shy about answering questions about herself in turn.

“So what’s it like being an Avenger?” you asked, unable to hold back your curiosity any longer.

She paused and shrugged, “Honestly, it’s really not as great as some people make it out to be. I know that I should be grateful for the opportunity to make a difference and for having the ability to keep people safe, but more often than not the bad outweighs the good.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “You don’t always get the bad guys and so many people still accuse me of being one of them. There are always so many cameras pointed at me. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.”

You nodded, sympathy rising in your chest. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I know my opinion probably doesn’t count for much, but I don’t think you’re a bad guy; I don’t think you ever really were.”

Her smile was blinding as she replied, “Your opinion means everything.”

That had been one of the more serious moments, though the majority of it had been filled with laughter. At one point, she had started trying to teach you some basic words in Sokovian. You stumbled over the words repeatedly, but she continued to be nothing but patient and supportive. The buzzing of your phone drew your thoughts away from Wanda momentarily, only to see a text from her.

I keep thinking about what you said earlier today. I think you’re right.

You stared at the message with confusion as you hastily typed out a response, I am right, but remind me what I’m right about?

Three dots appeared on the screen then disappeared. A minute later, a message appeared.

They’re better with Crisco. I haven’t tried them with butter but I don’t need to. You’re also right in that you don’t need the “butter Snickerdoodles are better” negativity in your life. You deserve nothing but the best.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Made With Love Masterlist

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jobean12-blog · 4 years ago

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Top Shelf: Chapter 19- Book Ends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (bookshop, bartender, baking AU)

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Spring is on the way and with it lots of new ideas and beginnings...

Author’s Note: So I have this ready and I was excited to post so it’s a little early again. I know the moodboard probably gives too much away but I enjoy making them so much! Hope you love this chapter and I did it justice. It was hard to imagine how this would go down but I think it was grand enough in the choice of place and the words and attention to detail that make it work without being too much. I’m rambling! The Meatball Shop is such a great place, check it out here, I’m hungry just thinking about it! haha I hope you like it and THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for your continued amazingness, you are all the best! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: SUPER SOFT FLUFFY SWEET LOVE :)

Top Shelf Masterlist

It’s early Sunday afternoon when you get the text from Peggy that the wedding proofs came in. You and Nat reply with several uppercase letters and happy emojis, agreeing to meet at Peggy and Steve’s for dinner and a browsing party. “Hey babe?” you shout, waiting for Bucky’s reply. He pops his head out of the bathroom, “yea baby, what’s up?”

You rush over to him and do a little dance, “Peggy said the proofs came in so we’re gonna go over there later and eat and drink wine and look and photos and no boys allowed!” He starts laughing before you even finish the sentence, shaking his head to get rid of some excess water. “Hey! You’re splashing me!” He drops the towel from around his waist and rubs it over his hair. “Better?”

Keeping your eyes on his you cross your arms, “mmm, I don’t know, let me check.” You walk closer and run your hands through his hair, the soft fluffy locks only slightly damp now. “Yes, better.” His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you all the way into the bathroom, picking you up and sitting you on the counter. “You have way too many clothes on,” he simpers, spreading your legs and standing between them. “Well then you better do something about it before I leave.”

-Cut to Bucky’s POV about and hour later-

“Hey Steve, can you meet me today? I’m sure you know Peggy got the proofs and the girls are coming by your place to look at them. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to go.” Steve chuckles into the phone, “of course, wanna grab a bite first? Let’s get tacos!” Bucky’s stomach grumbles as he happily agrees, quickly getting off the phone before you come into the room.

*****

When you arrive at Peggy’s she already has the wine out along with some snacks. Nat shows up a few minutes later and you all get comfy on the couch. “How did you get rid of Steve?” Nat asks, shoving some cheese into her mouth. “He said he and Bucky were gonna get tacos then go see Sam.” Nat finishes chewing, "that sounds about right.” You all laugh, ready to enjoy the beautiful photos and help Peggy pick some out.

You get home later than you thought, finding Bucky standing in the kitchen, a cookie half stuffed in his mouth. “Hi doll face,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “did you have fun?” Grabbing a cookie for yourself you kiss his cheek, “I did, the photos are amazing! There is one of us dancing that is so perfect Bucky! I ordered an 8x10 so we can frame it and hang it up!” His eyes light up, “that’s great, I can’t wait to see it.”

“So how many tacos did you eat?” He’s about to pop another cookie in his mouth but he stops, eyebrows knitted as he thinks over his answer. “Hmmm, probably like 12.” He shrugs, eating the cookie whole and going to get some milk. Downing the small glass, he says, “these are really good by the way, is this the new sugar cookie recipe?” You do a little happy dance, “it is! I think I finally got it right! They’ll be fun for Spring because I can do all different shapes and decorations!”

Bucky reaches his hand into the cookie jar for another one, but you smack it, “don’t do it, you’ll get a stomachache.” He makes a sad face, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Save it Barnes! And save some cookies so we can snack tomorrow! I can’t have you eating my bookshop supply!” He puts his hands up in surrender, “fine, fine. But they are really good!”

Later that night you’re cuddled up in bed, reading your book while Bucky absentmindedly plays with your hair. “OH!” he nearly yells, making you jolt and sit up. “Sorry, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. He smirks, continuing on, “so Spring is right around the corner and the weather is getting nicer and warming up so I was thinking we could set up some tables outside the bookshop. Maybe add an awning or just umbrellas and plants or something.”

You watch him talk, his eyes bright and excited and when he finally stops rambling you crawl on top of him, kissing his lips. “That is an amazing idea baby! I love it!” His eyes crinkle in a smile, “ok great, I’m glad, I thought you would like it.” A few comfortable moments of silence pass while you stroke his beard, lightly kissing along his jaw. “You know what else is coming up,” he says, almost dreamily. “What?”

He stops your hand and holds it, kissing your palm, “the anniversary of the day we met. Do you remember it?” Playfully tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “Ummm, I think so, maybe. I mean it was SO LONG ago.” He rolls over and squishes you into the mattress. “Oh. I see how it is. At least we know one of us is a romantic!”

A few weeks later…

You walk outside with a hot cup of tea and some of your rose macarons, placing them down in front of Grandma Betty. “This should warm you up a bit!” You sit down across from her, wanting to take minute to say hi. “It’s really quite beautiful out, I love that you set up this area.” She bites into the cookie, immediately smiling. “Oh, these are just delicious! Well done sweetheart!” You bring her two more before going to the back to put more in the oven.

“Grandma is loving those rose macarons baby, nice work.” He gives you a quick kiss before grabbing more coffee. “Can you save some for us, I was thinking maybe we could stay at the bookshop tomorrow night since I’m not working the bar. Would be the perfect snack.” Smiling over your shoulder you happily agree. “I should have some left and if not, I can easily make another batch just for us.” Bucky licks his lips and winks, heading back out with the coffee.

Bucky lays back against the pillows on the floor, hands behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. “What are you doing doll?” His eyes follow you as you walk around the attic, scanning the bookshelves and quietly humming to yourself. “Just looking for something to read, any ideas?” You can’t see him, but Bucky let’s out a silent breath, rubbing his hands together and standing. He wipes his palms on his sweatpants and walks toward you.

“You know we never finished ‘The Never Ending Story,’ we could read more if you like?” Smiling at him over your shoulder you walk toward the shelf it’s on, filing through the spines in search of the title. “Perfect.” Pulling it from the shelf you hug it to your chest and turn toward Bucky. His eyes look bright with tears and you rush over to him, taking his hand in yours. “Bucky? What’s wrong?” He raises his hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips before kissing you.

The softness of the kiss takes your breath away and when you open them Bucky smiles, looking down at the book in your hands. “Ready?” You simply nod, lovingly stroking the cover of the book and thumbing the pages. You notice the ribbon bookmark, fingering the silky fabric before following it down and opening to the page it’s on.

Your eyes drop to something that catches the soft glow of the star lights hanging from the ceiling, it’s sparkle dancing over the words on the page. Your hand covers your mouth, nothing but a muffled cry escaping and when you look up Bucky is on one knee in front of you. The tears that filled his eyes earlier threaten to spill from the corners as he reaches up to take your hand in his. Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze his hand so tight, feeling as if you might float away at any moment.

“That’s for you.” You both laugh through your tears and you try desperately not to throw yourself into his arms, knowing he has more to say. “I knew you were special the day we met. And every day after I fell in love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing you every step of the way. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d chose you. You will never be anything less than everything for me. Will you marry me, y/n?”

You fall to your knees and throw your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder and saying “yes,” over and over again. He holds you for what feels like eternity, the thundering beat of his heart in sync with yours as it becomes steadier and your tears begin to dry. Lifting your head, you kiss him a thousand times, but it never seems enough and finally he says against your lips, “do you want to get a better look at the ring?”

Your cheeks are red and still wet from tears, but your smile is bright. “Yes! I’m just. I’m so happy, Bucky.” He picks up the book and unties the ring. Taking your left hand in his he slowly slides it onto your ring finger, kissing it before you pull it away to admire how perfectly beautiful it is. “Wow, it’s gorgeous. I couldn’t have picked a better ring myself!” You move your hand back and forth, the light from the moon filtering through the skylight reflecting off the diamonds and painting your face in shimmers.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Bucky.” You barely whisper the words, but they hold more weight in their honesty than any others, as if your heart spoke them. The mood shifts and Bucky has you in his arms, his body covering yours and his hands and mouth desperate to feel every inch of you. The sounds of city outside melt away and it’s only you two, skin to skin, every nerve ending alive with each other’s touch.

Thankful that you don’t have to wake up for anything you both sleep late into the morning, the sun bright and shining through the window, heating your bare skin and rousing you from your slumber. Your head rests on Bucky’s chest as you gently scrape your fingers through his beard, causing soft hums of pleasure to rumble through him. “I could stay like this forever.” Cuddling closer and pushing off the blanket you joke, “me too, except we might cook first.”

His laughter shakes you more awake and you roll over, stretching your limbs. The sunshine catches the facets of your ring, making it sparkle brilliantly and you can’t help but let out a squeal. “OMG BUCKY IT WASN’T A DREAM!” He takes your arms and brings you back to him, “no, it wasn’t. But it is a dream come true, you’re really gonna marry me.” Wiggling your fingers to get one more look you turn your eyes to him, “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Why don’t we get dressed, and head home to shower then we can see if anyone is around to meet for lunch? Wanna go to The Meatball Shop, I’m already hungry.” You’re about to tell Bucky you are too but your stomach grumbles, saying it for you and you laugh. “Definitely, I could go for a giant plate of spaghetti.”

Once you’re back at your apartment you get yourself cleaned up, Bucky handling the texts to see if Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam can meet you. “Did you hear from anyone?” you ask Bucky as you fix your hair. “Nat said she and Sam already ate but they expect us at the bar later and Peggy and Steve are on the other side of the city so it’s just us I think.” Smiling you skip over to him and plant a kiss on his lips, “sounds good to me, I’ll just tell everyone we see on the streets the news.”

You decide to walk to the restaurant considering it’s such a nice day and Bucky keeps you busy by asking you questions about when and where you want to get married. You don’t realize you’re just steps away from the front of the restaurant and your friends are waiting outside the door until you hear Sam yell, “well, I guess this means she said yes!”

@aesthetical-bucky @book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @buckys-broody-muffin @breezy1415 @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @lokilvrr @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @loricameback @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923 @flyawaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @addikted-2-dopamine @lady-pswrld @buckys-henley @lookiamtrying @mishaandthebrits @hopefuldreamers-world @rebekahdawkins @randomesk-yuku

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qianinterprises · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Snow Day

Author's Notes: This fic was actually created for Valentines Day and a version of it has been posted on ncta and ao3.

Synopsis: The snow on the ground was a big surprise, and you aren't sure if it's pleasant or not. Sure, you love the snow, but the thought of spending Valentines Day alone isn't super appealing. It's a good thing your neighbor, Kun, has other plans to spend the day.

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre(s): fluff, tiny microscopic bit of angst

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 3900

This image is not mine. Credit to the owner!

You hadn’t been expecting to view the snow blanketing the ground when you’d woken for work that morning. Your first thought was that you must be dreaming. Upon further inspection, however, you discovered that your eyes didn’t deceive you at all. Snow covered the ground. Well, more than covering it. Coating it more like. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen snow like this. Actually, you hadn’t seen it snow here at all, at least, it hadn’t snowed in the three years you’d lived in the small, one bedroom, one bathroom cottage you rented from the sweet old couple a few houses down.

You let out a sigh and leaned against the window sill, pressing your nose against the cool glass. You loved the snow. You always had. However, snow today? You squeezed your eyes shut. Typically, you didn’t mind being alone; you’d gotten used to it, but you’d never had to be alone on this particular holiday. Sure, it had been a while since you had someone romantic to share it with, but you typically had friends, or, at the very least, your students to keep you company. That was actually the plan for today. Spend the day of love with your students.

Those plans were foiled now. You hadn’t checked your email yet, but guessed school would be canceled. This place hadn’t received snow in years. They had no idea what to do with it! School would be canceled indefinitely until the snow melted away or, at the very least, became more manageable.

Your phone dinged on the nightstand, drawing your attention out of your thoughts. You gave the snow one last glance, puzzled feelings bubbling in your abdomen, before moving back to your bed to retrieve your phone.

‘Look outside!’

The message had come from Kun, your neighbor.

Before you had a chance to respond, another message arrived.

‘Guess no work today! And all that time put into lesson planning!’

You let out a little giggle at that.

Kun taught cooking class at the high school, a few doors down from your class. You weren’t in the same subject, but you had hit it off instantly when Kun had brought you a batch of brownies to welcome you to the school a few years ago. You’d quickly become fast friends, something that only made living next door to one another that much better.

‘Extra vacation days for us and the kiddos!’ you replied.

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. There was just something about Kun that made you smile. Whenever he was around, a smile broke across your rosy cheeks, even if you’d had the worst of days. Your other co-workers seemed to have picked up on this and began relentlessly teasing you for it. Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully), Kun hadn’t seemed to notice at all.

Your phone chimed again, this time portraying a little laughing emoji that Kun used a little too often. You slipped your phone into the pocket of your gray sweatpants. You were half tempted to climb back under the warm blankets heaped atop your bed, but opted to instead pace into the kitchen for a steaming cup of your favorite coffee.

While waiting for your Keurig to finish brewing, you stole another glance out at the snow through your kitchen window. The sun had risen fully now and you could now see white sticking to the tops of the trees. It was absolutely breath-taking. Something you hadn’t experienced in many years.

The sound of liquid filling your favorite coffee mug ceased and the sweet aroma filled the air. You poured in all of your creamers. Once it was sweet enough, you took a nice, refreshing sip, sighing softly as the warm liquid slid over your tongue and down your throat, instantly warming you.

Morning coffee was an absolute must. You couldn’t function without it. Sure, the caffeine was great, but it was more of the sweetness that you enjoyed. It was the perfect combination of sweet and bitter that got you ready for the day.

With a yawn, you moved into the living room of your little cottage. Monday’s were usually hectic and tiring, something you’d be counting on for the day. Now, with the snow covering the ground, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Perhaps you should stuff your face with chocolate and watch sappy romance movies with a box of tissues to dry your tears at someone else's happiness and your own loneliness. Maybe you should pop open the bottle of wine chilling in your refrigerator and drink the day away.

You sighed. You didn’t have a boyfriend to spend the day with. You didn’t have your best friend, who was already married, to cheer you up. You didn’t have your students to keep you distracted long enough for Valentines Day to feel full and bountiful.

You stretched out on the couch and your cat, Effie, jumped up in your lap, laying herself across your stomach, purring softly as she curled up. You stroked your cat's head and let your head lull against the throw pillows, staring up at the ceiling fan.

The best thing to do for a day like this would be reading a good book, you thought. It wasn’t long afterwards that you got up to grab a book from your collection.

The day was drifting away slowly, just as you had predicted. You was halfway through your book, taking your time to bask in the novel with a bowl of popcorn that Effie kept stealing. As lunchtime came and went, you found yourself succumbing to boredom. Your book was nice, but not nearly as interesting as you’d been hoping. You were blue. You had hopes that perhaps Kun would invite you over like he sometimes did for food or for a riveting game of Mario Kart, but as the day trickled away, those hopes vanished.

However, as your phone, which had been silent most of the day, began to ring, your hopes began to grow ever so slightly. The frown that had stitched itself across your face easily eased as soon as you picked up the phone to find Kun’s name flashing across the screen.

Light pink dusted your cheeks before you answered.

“How's your day going?” he asked.

His velvety voice sent chills up your spine.

“Boring,” you replied.

Your voice was dull with unenthusiasm that he chuckled at.

“I was bored too, which motivated me to clean out the old shed behind the house and I happened to find my own snow sled! I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park with me to try it out?”

Your face heated up brighter than it already was. He wanted you to go? Sledding? With him? You swallowed thickly. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“I’d love to but uh… I don’t have a sled.”

“That’s fine! We can share mine! I-if you want to, of course.”

The way his excitement changed to stammaring made your heart pound. You’d never heard the cool, collected man stumble over his words before.

Your face heated, but you nodded against the phone, too anxious to speak just yet, although you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“I’d love to! When should I be ready?” you managed to squeak out.

“Ten minutes?” he asked.

Ten minutes?!

“Uh… sure!” you agreed, stupidly.

With that, the conversation ended and you shot up off the couch, startling Effie who had been asleep surrounded by popcorn kernels. Hastily, you tore the gray sweatpants down your legs, stumbling as you ran toward your closet, flinging your shirt off at the same time. As you reached the closet, you ripped the door open so hard it rattled, but you didn’t have time to care. Ten minutes was nowhere even close to enough time. Why you had agreed was completely beyond you. You could only assume it was your stupid, love-drunk brain going into over-drive with excitement.

You yanked a pair of black leggings off a hanger, ignoring the hanger that dropped onto the floor with a clank. You didn’t pause to pick it up. You didn’t have time! You rolled the leggings up your legs before grabbing a pair of jeans and sliding them up as well, hoping the simple combination would keep you warm enough. You pulled a sweater from another hanger, throwing it over your head and attempting to force your hands through, your heart racing as time slipped away, causing you to get lost in the sweater, attempting to blindly shove your head through the neck of the fabric.

With a grunt, you finally had the blasted thing pulled over your head and reached into the far back of her closet to retrieve a pair of black snow boots you rarely wore. You weren't even sure they’d still fit your feet, you could only hope.

You pulled your thick winter coat off it’s hanger. It was actually an old, tan, Carhartt coat that had belonged to your younger brother, but when he grew too big for it, shoulders too wide to fit, your parents, who hardly threw any clothing item away, found you could wear it. Sure, it was a little big on you. The sleeves were too long for your arms, the bottom covered your rear end almost completely, and it sat loose against your chest. Still, you loved it. It always smelled like pine and never failed to keep you warm, even in 20 degree weather.

You laid the coat out on the bed and turned your attention to the bathroom mirror.

Kun had seen you without makeup before, once, when his heat had gone out and he was banging on your door at 4 in the morning on a Saturday asking for warmth. That still didn’t make you confident. At the time, you didn’t care how your face looked, but now, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, you wrinkled your nose.

Freckles were cute when they just covered the cheek-bones of pretty, skinny girls, but you was neither pretty nor skinny, and you had dark freckles all the way from the top of your forehead down to the chubbiness under your jaw.

Time was ticking down. You knew you didn’t have too much time to worry about your face, but the thought of facing Kun bare-faced made your stomach churn. So, you did the only thing you could. You opened the bottle of concealer and pulled the wand out. You used the wand to dot over the freckles all over your face before going over them all with foundation. It wouldn’t cover them all or hide them, but it made them lighter, less noticeable.

Once dressed completely, you gave one more long, unsatisfied look into the mirror. You’d covered as many of your cosmetic flaws as you could. There was nothing more you could do, and you were rapidly running out of time.

More time had passed than you realized. Just as you emerged from the bathroom, reaching for your shoes, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” you shouted, tugging on your snow boots, over fuzzy socks. Once they were laced up, you pulled the winter coat over your shoulders and zipped it up to your chin.

Once completely ready, you shuffled over to the door, turning the lock and opening it hesitantly to reveal a grinning Kun standing on your tiny porch, clutching a dull, red sled with the paint chipping. He wore a beige jacket, hood pulled up over his head, and a pair of jeans he’d likely lined with long-johns. He was dressed casually. Much more casually than she was used to, and it forced the air to get trapped inside her throat. He was perfect, even when he was dressed for the cold.

“Ready?” he asked, voice smooth, melodic, and full of excitement.

“Absolutely!”

Your heart thumped a little harder in your chest. His attire, the sled, his smile, the day; it all made this seem like a magical date. You knew it couldn’t be but… in your dreams and your diary, it would be the most perfect date you’d ever gone on.

He walked down the three small steps leading to the ground that was covered in the icy white powder. As soon as he stepped foot on the ground, his boot crunched under the snow, a sound you hadn’t heard since you were young. It brought back so many memories of a happy childhood spent building snowmen and having snowball fights.

You followed him off the porch, you own feet soon crunching into the snow.

Kun led the way from your yard into his, taking a shortcut to the park not far from where you lived, a little more than a block away. You made your way up Kun’s driveway and out onto the side of the road. A snow plow had already come through to scrape the snow and ice off the road, but it hadn’t done a very good job. It had left ice in the center of the road and the scrapped away snow leaned precariously on the shoulder, teetering between off the road and on it. Not much of anyone would be driving today anyway, you supposed.

As the two of you made the short journey to the park, you exchanged small talk, mostly about classes or students you had in common. A brief conversation about your desire to get a German Shepherd puppy and Kun discussing his goldfish, Hendery and Xiaojun.

Before long, you’d reached the park and your eyes grew wide. From the moment Kun asked if you’d wanted to go sledding, you’d held no other thought about the complications in your mind, specifically the complications of the amount of people currently running amach. More specifically, your students, both past and present, seemed to be everywhere you turned. In fact, as you were taking it all in, Billy Bridges, one of your more… challenging students, flew past on a juvenile snowboard, nearly plowing over another adult in his path.

Your heart pounded nervously in your chest. You weren't great in crowds, especially in crowds that included your students that would ask a million questions about seeing you when you saw them again. Part of you thought it would be best to just go home, ditch a Valentines Day sled date and do something else, but as Kun’s gloved hand found your bare one, your mind blanked. He didn’t say a word, but he seemed to somehow know how nervous you’d become. He slowly guided you up through the throngs of people to a tall hill on one side of the park, a hill not too many people were occupying, as surprising as it was.

Once at the top, you took a moment to survey the area below. It was amazing. The usually green field was covered in thick white like some sort of enchanted wonderland. Children with pink noses were sliding down smaller hills on homemade sleds. Teenagers threw balls of icy fun at one another and chased each other around with snow-dusted boots. Others lay on their backs, stretching their arms out and flailing them as if they were trying to signal for help, forming the wings on an angel as their legs opened and closed over and over to make the outline of a dress, creating a pile of snow between their legs. Parents stood around, watching their children have fun or tilting their heads back with opened mouths to a falling snowflake on their tongue.

“Ready?” Kun’s voice brought you out of your reverie, his hand squeezing yours gently.

You looked back at him, grinning and nodded. As snowflakes began falling around them, several flakes became trapped in his hair, making him look like a dazzling snow prince that made you weak in the knees, and the urge to throw yourself at him became more impossible to withstand.

Luckily, he gave you a smile and turned away, releasing your hand and dropping the red sled into the snow, balancing it on the top of the hill, careful not to let it slide down without passengers.

“Did you want me to push you first?” you asked once the sled was situated.

Kun turned around at your question, confusion etched into his brow until that confusion turned to mirror dejection.

“I-I was thinking we could slide together…” he said, a light pink dusting his cheeks.

He must have been getting cold.

You was flabbergasted, nevertheless, at his statement. Your mouth was agape and you silence must have come off as judging rejection.

“I mean, if you want to! But you don’t have to!” he insisted, voice wavering slightly as the words rushed out.

You was still struck dumb, but this seemed to be all the push you needed to collect yourself and respond.

“That sounds like fun!” you agreed.

Kun let out a sigh that you were sure was just a hard exhalation of air and his smile returned.

He opened his hand, offering it to you, who gladly took it, face beginning to feel warm. He led you to where the sled rested and held the sled as you settled onto it. You bent your knees and slid your feet at the base of the sled to stabilize yourself. Once you were settled, Kun released the sled and you placed your bare hands on the frozen white sheets to stabilize it as Kun slowly lowered himself behind you. Your cheeks grew hotter as he situated himself with his legs on either side of you. He scooted closer, until his feet were pressed against the head of the sled beside yours and your back was pressed against his coat-clad chest. You could feel his warmth and his heartbeat through their clothes, slow and steady. Your own heartbeat racing at the closeness.

Kun reached around you, settling his arms on your waist and grabbing hold of the steering robe that rested against your knees. He pulled it tight and let his wrists settle on the tops of your thighs.

Your face was hot. So hot you were surprised you weren't melting the snowflakes still falling around you. You fought the urge to nestle yourself back against Kun’s chest, to make yourself more comfortable in his embrace. You fought against every urge within yourself not to turn around and press a kiss against his lips.To claim this as the perfect date in the history of dates. In fact, the only thing grounding you and keeping you from acting on your feelings was your bare hands still resting in the freezing snow to stabilize the sled.

“Ready?”

Kun’s voice was so close to your ears, you felt like you could melt. All you could do was nod, too nervous to speak.

With that, you dug your fingers into the snow and used it as a springboard to topple you over the hill. With as much strength as you could muster, you did just that, forcing the sled to slide on the ice until gravity took control and you were descending the hill. The sled was slow at first, but it gradually picked up speed.

As you sped down, wisps of hair fluttered up into the wind as elated laughter bolted from both your chests. A wide grin stretched across your face. You had forgotten how much fun this was, or maybe it was Kun’s presence behind you that made it more fun.

Your eyes began to sting from the cold wind blowing in your face, drawing liquid to your eyes that you blinked away. Kun’s hands squeezed tighter around you, holding the rope and holding you steady in his strong arms. Everyone else had seemed to disappear. The only two people left in the world seemed to be the two of you sliding down the slope, laughing the whole way, wrapped up in each other’s bliss.

Unfortunately, the best moments never last forever and all too soon, the sled was sliding to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The world came back into view. Children were running around, teenagers were throwing snowballs, parents were catching snowflakes. Nothing had changed. You were still two people riding a sled who had no idea how the other felt.

As the sled came to a stop, you collected yourself to get off, ready to ask if he wanted to go again, but Kun’s arms tightened around your middle. You paused and glanced back at him questioningly, your cheeks heating again.

The snow fell around you, bits of it collecting in your eye lashes.

Kun didn’t speak for a long moment. His brown eyes just searched your, looking for the answers to a question he hadn’t asked.

You was about to open your mouth to speak, when he beat you to it.

“How do you feel about me?” he asked

Your cheeks flamed hotter.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked, attempting to play dumb.

You had no intentions on revealing your crush if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Am I just a good friend or… more?”

You were silent. It was your turn to search him. Your eyes met his again, hoping for the correct answer. As you looked, you saw no trace of jokes or laughter. You saw seriousness. A seriousness that you drew courage from.

“I see you as a really good friend who lives next door to me that I’ve known for three years,” you began.

His face seemed to fall and he started moving away from you. It was your turn to catch his wrist.

“A really good friend whom I’ve had a massive crush on for the past two years.”

It felt good to admit it. Your cheeks heated up more as you waited for an answer.

It never came. At least, not a verbal one.

Instead, a cold, gloved hand touched your cheek, drawing you closer before a pair of cold, plump, and absolutely perfect lips fell on yours.

It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening and to respond, but when you did, you placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss. Your heart pounded in your ears. This was absolutely, without a doubt, the best Valentines Day there was in the history of days.

At least until a snowball hit you in the back, drawing you from the kiss in utter shock. You spun around, eyes wide until they met the mischievous smirks of Kim Jongin, Kim Jieun, and Lee Perry, three students you and Kun had in common.

“Mr. Qian and Ms. (Y/L/N) sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” They began singing.

Their teasing brought more heat to your cheeks, and Kun drew you closer.

“Well, that’s what we were doing until you three broke the moment,” he scolded.

This did nothing but make the three laugh as they doddled away to go bother someone else.

You whined. Your perfect moment ruined.

At least, until Kun wrapped his arms back around your waist and squeezed again.

“So you see me as someone you had a crush on. I see you as my girlfriend,” he said.

You turned to look up at him, shock written all over your face. You searched him, hoping he was serious. Deeming he was, a smile broke out across your face.

“And I want to be your girlfriend.”

He smiled and brought you in for another kiss, one that sealed the deal officially.

Definitely the best Valentine's Day ever.

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burstingsunrise · 4 years ago

Note

hi molly!! how about “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” for malum? :) <3

another challenge! some malum for you! 💜i realize this was supposed to be fluffy love prompts but something about this one just SPOKE to me and i went a slightly more chaotic route. this technically takes place within the bake off au but it stands on its own. words: 1466 tw: none on ao3 here. It’s not that Michael missed Luke when he was off filming for Bake Off . He definitely didn’t. He just missed Luke’s delicious treats. The only reason he even agreed to go over to Luke’s flat the first day after his two week post-Bake Off quarantine is because he’s been craving lemon bars and Luke promised to make a batch of his really fucking amazing lemon bars. Not too sweet, not too tangy.

It’s also Michael’s first opportunity to formally meet Ashton, and he’s hoping to make a better impression than he did the first time around. He doesn’t want Luke’s new boyfriend to only know him as the guy who asks strangers if they have any marriageable friends.

Michael’s multitasking as he steps onto the tube, texting Luke that he’s on his way as he swings into the seat just inside the door of the empty tube car. Except the seat hits his arse sooner than he expects, and it’s strangely lumpy. And it’s moving.

“What the fuck, man?”

Michael springs to his feet when he hears the words in his ear and looks down, red-faced, at the person who he just inadvertently sat on.

It’s a guy about his age with dark, wavy hair and expressive brown eyes that are staring at Michael, a vaguely menacing frown on his perfect face. It’s a shame Michael had to have sat on him under these particular circumstances, because in pretty much any other scenario he’d be more than happy to sit on this guy’s lap. The first thing he’d do is run his fingers through that beautiful hair. Maybe undo a couple of the buttons on his white shirt. See where it goes from there.

The guy clears his throat and Michael realizes that silently undressing this stranger with his eyes is probably not helping the situation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he sputters. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.” He looks down at the floor and starts backing away from the stranger, figuring this guy would probably prefer if the weirdo who sat on him kept his distance.

But the guy grins at him, and in half a second he goes from hot and mildly threatening to sweet and adorable. Michael realizes he’s grinning back at him despite never actually deciding to do it.

“Don’t worry about it. Most action I’ve had in six weeks,” the guy says with a chuckle, eyes roaming up and down Michael’s body in a way that makes Michael stand a little taller and throw his shoulders back. The guy turns his attention to his phone and Michael drops into a seat at the other end of the car.

They both get off at the same stop, and Michael’s forced to follow Tube Guy up the steps and out onto the sidewalk. It’s a little awkward, but Michael is pretty sure the guy hasn’t noticed him trailing behind, so he just tries to continue keeping a safe distance between them. Once they’re out of the station, Tube Guy turns in the same direction as Luke’s flat, and Michael sighs quietly. All he can do is keep following. He sends a quick text to Luke.

Michael: might be arrested for stalking soon pls answer your phone if police station calls.

Luke immediately responds with a peace sign emoji and Michael rolls his eyes. Things start to get tricky when Tube Guy suddenly slows his pace, head bent over his phone, and Michael quickly gains ground on him.

Tube Guy must hear Michael’s footsteps behind him, because he shifts to the edge of the sidewalk to make way and glances over his shoulder. He does a double take when he sees Michael behind him. He smiles nervously and gives Michael a little wave, which he seems to immediately regret and tries to cover by moving his hand to scratch his head.

Michael stifles a laugh. “I swear I’m not following you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were.” Tube Guy shrugs and, to Michael’s surprise, falls into step next to him.

“Did you just get out of prison or something?” Michael asks. Tube Guy looks at him, perplexed. “You said you hadn’’t gotten any action in six weeks,” Michael clarifies. “Thought maybe you just got sprung.”

“Close,” the guy says, with a chuckle. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you though.” He goes back to watching his phone carefully as he walks, and Michael doesn’t want to accidentally stumble into awkward territory, so he leaves it be. He’s almost to Luke’s anyway.

“Well, mysterious Tube Guy, this is where I leave you,” he says, peeling off to climb the stoop to Luke’s front door and pressing the buzzer. “Was nice sitting on you.”

Tube Guy chuckles and opens his mouth to respond, then he skids to a halt, studying his phone with a frown. He looks up at Michael, squinting in confusion, then his face breaks into a mischievous grin and he climbs the two cobblestone stairs to stand next to Michael.

Michael stares at him, suddenly realizing maybe he’s the one in danger. Maybe all this time he spent worrying that Tube Guy was going to think he was a stalker would have been better spent worrying about whether Tube Guy was going to kill him. And now he’s brought a murderer right to Luke’s front door! Luke’s never going to forgive him if he ends up dead because Michael sat on a murderer’s lap on the tube and then led said murderer to Luke’s doorstep.

The door opens, and the second he sees Luke peering at him, Michael tries to silently communicate that Luke should really shut the door and call 999 while he’s still got time. At least one of them needs to make it out alive.

Unfortunately, that’s a really hard thing to say with just your eyes and a few manic facial expressions, and Luke is utterly clueless as usual. He just grins at Michael and gestures for Michael and the murderer to come inside. This is a new level of clueless, even for Luke.

Michael quickly jumps in front of the murderer and crosses into Luke’s flat, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Why did you just slam the door in Calum’s face?” Luke whines, grabbing at Michael’s hand to try to open the door. Michael holds firm, but Luke is deceptively strong (must be all that mixing) and manages to dislodge Michael’s hand from the doorknob in short order. He pulls the door back open and the murderer is still standing there, an amused smile on his face.

Michael grabs Luke’s sleeve to drag him away from the door and starts to dial 999 on his phone when he registers what Luke had just said and pauses. Does Luke know the murderer? Calum? The name sounds familiar. The guy who was on Bake Off with Luke is a murderer?

“What the fuck, Michael?” Luke pulls his arm out of Michael’s grasp. “Come on in, Cal.”

The murderer - Calum - casually steps into the foyer. Suddenly he lunges at Michael and Michael screeches, crossing his arms protectively in front of his face. Calum and Luke both burst into laughter, and Michael lowers his arms slowly.

“What is your deal, man?” Luke asks, still giggling.

Michael’s face is bright red as his brain plays catch-up. He smiles sheepishly at Calum. “Sorry. I may have thought you were going to kill us there for a minute.”

“Why did you show up at my front door with him if you thought he was going to kill us?” Michael thinks that’s pretty rich coming from Luke, seeing as he literally threw himself in front of a potential murderer in an attempt to save them both.

“I didn’t think he was going to kill us until he followed me to your front door,” Michael replies defensively. “Before that he was just the guy I accidentally sat on and then imagined naked on the tube.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Calum asks. Michael shrugs, a yeah, and what about it? look on his face. Calum nods approvingly. “That’s what I was doing too.”

Michael had already kind of assumed - it’s not like Calum had been subtle about checking him out - but it’s nice to have the confirmation. He puffs his chest out a little and eyes Calum boldly.

Luke throws up his hands and walks toward the kitchen. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I don’t want any part of it. Go sit down and I’ll bring out the food.” He disappears around the corner, leaving Michael and Calum alone in the foyer.

“C’mon, Calum,” Michael says with a grin, grabbing Calum by the wrist and leading him into Luke’s living room. “You can sit on my lap this time.”

#ask #prompt #5sos fic #malum fic #michaelownsmyheart #this is a thing i did

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Flower Files, Part 1 (Tatiadore, Biaja) - Albatross

AN: A collection of short oneshots. Each one has a flower/plant theme. I’ll be posting them on AQ in batches of 2-3 depending on length.

Chapter 1: Tatiadore

Tatiana awoke to the sound of birds distantly chirping away outside her window and the warm rays of the sun beginning to light up her room. It was all very pleasant, especially for what was supposed to be a quiet Sunday at home with her girlfriend. Groggily, she stumbled out of bed and wandered over to their shared dresser. Her mind was still sleep-addled but something was trying to capture her attention. It was a brief whiff of some strange scent but in an instant, it was gone. No matter how hard Tatianna tried to refocus on it, it had just disappeared.

But that caused her attention to drift to another development…elsewhere in the apartment, there was another scent arising; that of cooking food.

A soft smile arose to her lips; Adore was making breakfast and from the smell of it, something with sweet peppers, onion and egg…perhaps a western omelette, or maybe just scrambled?

Hurrying to the bathroom, Tatianna resolved to take a quicker shower than normal. Usually she would stay in there for a good 20 minutes and just let herself relax under the spray but the delicious scent of breakfast waiting for her in the kitchen made her realize that she was utterly starving. And even more so, she just wanted to pull Adore into her arms once again, especially since she didn’t have a chance to upon first waking up.

So in record time, she had her teeth brushed and the shower warming up but while the bathroom steadily filled with steam, Tatianna realized that strange scent from before was somehow in here as well. This time it was stronger and lasted long enough for Tatianna to realize it was rather floral, but soon, thanks to the fan she had turned on in anticipation of a hot shower, the smell had disappeared once again.

Oh, well.

A brief 8 minutes later and Tatianna was clean, awake, and had changed into a fresh set of clothes; a simple cami and shorts ensemble but it was comfortable and cute.

Feeling much more like her normal self, she bounded into the kitchen to greet her girlfriend. Adore was still standing in front of the stove, poking her spatula at something sizzling in the pan and a cup of steaming tea close by on the countertop. She heard Tatianna arriving and spun around halfway to shoot her a warm, cheery grin. “Hey, baby,” she called out, not sounding entirely awake herself.

Tatianna was beginning to return the greeting but something caught her attention yet again; that same scent! It was here! But where…and why?

Adore caught the shift in Tatianna’s expression; it was so sudden and such an adorable mixture of confusion and concentration that Adore had to laugh. “Tati, baby,” she asked through her laughter, “what’s with that face?”

Distractedly, Tatianna wandered around the boundaries of the kitchen, sniffing here and there, while giving a vague reply of “I smell something…In the bedroom and bathroom…now here.”

“Breakfast?” Adore offered up, gesturing to the nearly finished food in her pan.

Shaking her head, Tatianna said, “No, not that…it’s like, flowery but not flowers…” She didn’t know just how to explain it, even now she was only catching short bursts of the scent, but it didn’t smell quite natural…no, more like a man-made attempt at a floral scent…in fact, it smelled a bit like- “you!” she exclaimed, finding the scent strongest near her girlfriend.

True, the smell of food covered it up quite a bit but it was definitely originating from Adore!

Puzzled, Adore murmured a soft, “Mm?” and stirred the food in the pan one last time before turning off the heat. Remember her own deviation in routine that morning she recalled, “Oh, yeah. I got some new perfume and wanted to try it out today…Rose. Like it?”

She glanced up to her girlfriend with the brightest, proudest smile…Nothing in the world could convince Tatianna not to return the gesture. Pressing a soft kiss to Adore’s lips, she answered, “Love…you.” Adore pouted. She really thought Tatianna would like the perfume more but oh, well. To each their own.

Tatianna wrapped her arms around Adore’s waist as she began splitting up the pan’s contents between the two plates in front of her. She nuzzled into Adore’s neck, loving the feel of her girlfriend’s body melting into hers, but she couldn’t resist letting one last comment slip out. Pressing another sweet kiss to Adore’s skin, she murmured, “And I’ll love you even if you wanna smell like an old lady every day.”

Snorting, Adore nearly doubled over as she tried to brace herself against the counter. “Well, fuck you, too, bitch,” she laughed out. “I like it though.”

Chapter 2: Biaja

It was about 2 in the afternoon when Raja’s phone began to buzz. Even without looking she already guessed it’d be her girlfriend. Tonight was supposed to be one of their stay-at-home date nights. Every month or so, they picked out a Friday where they would just spend a romantic evening at home, rather than going out to fancy restaurants or even double date with another couple. It was a chance to spend some quality time together, which had gotten a bit more difficult due to hectic work schedules.

‘Heyy!’ came Bianca’s first text. ‘Want me to pick up anything special for tonight?’

Raja smiled to herself. They already had their meal planned out; Raja would pick it up on her way home. Bianca had taken charge of finding dessert and figuring out which new movie release to watch. There didn’t seem to be much else that hadn’t already planned for…except perhaps one thing they both would enjoy.

Opening the text box, Raja quickly typed out ‘Rose’ but after staring at it for a good 10 seconds, it just didn’t look right.

Oh, right , Raja mused to herself, it’s missing the little accent thingy.

Finding the symbol was easy enough in her phone, the trouble was getting it over the ‘e’. No matter how she tried typing it out, the accent would appear as its own character either before or after the ‘e’ but never above.

How do people do this? she stressed. She’d seen Bianca figure it out before so it can’t be that difficult. Eh, whatever. She knows what I mean.

And with that, she sent off the text to her partner. In less than a minute, Bianca replied back with a simple, ‘👍🏻’.

Smiling to herself once again, she thought, Yeah, she gets me.

With that minor detail resolved, she returned back to her work, letting her mind drift every so often to how delicious their food was going to be or how much she was looking forward to emptying out that new bottle of wine during the movie.

******

With two oversized takeout bags and her purse in hand, Raja maneuvered the front door open as carefully as she could manage. She had made it only three steps inside before Bianca came rushing from the kitchen to meet her, one hand hidden behind her back. Raja was twisted around, unable to notice the odd behavior at first, and trying to close the door behind her. In the end she found herself having to settle on merely shunting the door closed with her foot and ignoring the loud clash as it met with the doorframe. Shifting back around to face her girlfriend, they shared a brief kiss as Bianca relieved her of one of the bags.

As they parted, a grin present on both of their lips, Bianca greeted her with a rather cheerful, “Hey, how was your day?”

“Great,” Raja replied, already feeling herself beginning to relax after such a long week and returned with an interested, “Yours?”

“Perfect,” Bianca beamed back. Very casually, she added in, “Picked up what you asked for.”

The statement immediately caught Raja’s attention. Perking back up, she questioned expectantly, “Yeah?”

Looking ever so proud of herself, Bianca withdrew the hand she had kept behind her back and presented Raja with a single long-stemmed, light pink rose. Snorting and nearly doubling over with laughter, Raja muttered to herself, “Oh my god.”

“Something wrong?” Bianca asked as her head tilted just slightly. Her brow was slightly furrowed in confusion, making her look utterly adorable in Raja’s eyes.

Through her laughter, Raja managed to explain, “Yes, no- I mean…I was trying to type out rosé and I couldn’t get that little dash thing over the ‘e’. So I just gave up and sent you, well, ‘rose’ instead.”

A look of guilt washed over Bianca’s face as she apologized, “Oh…I’m sorry, honey.”

Wrapping her free arm around Bianca’s waist, Raja pulled her in close and placed a quick peck to her cheek. “Don’t be, it’s my fault,” she assured her partner in a soft, amused voice. “Should’ve just sent a couple of wine emojis.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been much clearer,” Bianca agreed as her trademark smirk reappeared on her lips. Gently pulling away, she grabbed onto Raja’s hand and began leading her towards the kitchen. “Let’s get everything on plates and then we can eat. Dessert’s already laid out and the movie is set up in the living room.”

Raja followed closely behind with an eager grin but found herself stopping just inside the entryway to their kitchen. Laid out on the counter was no less than three bottles of her favorite brand of rosé. All of it was artfully surrounded by even more of those light pink roses and a few carefully scattered petals.

“Oh my god,” Raja gasped, grinning from ear to ear at the sight. Bianca truly does understand her.

Unfortunately that realization and moment of warmth was quickly interrupted by Bianca’s cackling of, “‘Little dash thing’?”

“Shut up!” Raja joked, laughing along with Bianca as they both set their bags onto the counter. “I tried, okay!”

“I’m sure you did, honey,” Bianca teased. “Pull out your phone and I’ll show you again how to do it.”

Retrieving her phone from her purse, Raja complained despite her ever present smile, “Still don’t understand how you figured it out before me.”

“Well, sweetheart,” Bianca mocked, “I might be shallow sometimes, but I’m not a complete idiot, at least not with my phone…or you.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #tatianna #raja gemini #adore delano #adore x tatianna #bianca x raja #fluff #lesbian au #rare pair #flower files #albatross #submission

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serenlyss · 6 years ago

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Linger

Rating: T (psychological trauma, heavy topics, vomit) Pairings: Terumob Summary: Shigeo knows that something about him has changed, and not in a good way. He knows when his fingers start to itch, when he's sweating in a cold room, when he sometimes loses the ability to breathe right. He just can't figure out why, or how to fix it. After a week, he finally decides to ask for help. Crossposted to AO3: Linger

This ended up being really long but,, oh well. This is based wholly off the line in the anime where Mogami says the experience will be forever etched in his heart, an exploration of what kind of aftermath that kind of event could have on someone if it was the main focus of the story. I also just really wanted to write some considerate/caring Teru bc he's one of my favorite characters and I love him. Hope you enjoy! This was beta read by @thedeadgodlives, thanks a bunch for your help!

Shigeo’s pencil scratches against the lined paper of his notebook, working out a difficult math problem his teacher had assigned to him the previous school day. His head is leaning on his open hand, fingers digging into his hair and pressing against his scalp as though it will help him think easier. He hums to himself, pausing as he reaches a point in the problem where he can no longer remember the steps to solving it.

He’s never been good at math, but even after years of struggling the nervousness and fear of failure never gets any better. He rolls his pencil between his fingers restlessly, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he fights to remember his teacher’s instructions. It’s no use, he laments after a moment. He’ll have to search his textbook later for the directions. He hopes his teacher doesn’t call on him in class; he’d surely make a fool of himself in front of his classmates.

The fingers holding his pencil tingle, and he pauses in his fiddling. The sensation is familiar to him now, but he still can’t figure out where it’s coming from or why it’s happening. The tingle grows into an incessant itch until he can no longer ignore it. He sets down his pencil, rubbing his fingers together in an attempt to make the itch go away, but it isn’t working. It never has, not since he first started experiencing the itching a week ago. He scratches at his fingers with the nail on his thumb, frowning at his itchy fingers disapprovingly.

Shaking his head, Shigeo returns to his homework, but his focus has been broken. The itch in his hand multiplies and spreads to his other hand, which twitches against his scalp in response. He straightens up in his seat, pressing both hands palm-down on his desk. The sensation lingers in his fingertips, but no matter how he scratches them, the itch doesn’t go away. It’s distracting and annoying, and it’s keeping him from doing his work.

With a disgruntled huff of breath, he pushes himself to his feet and slips out of his tidy bedroom, heading for the bathroom at the end of the hall. He runs the tap hot and lets his hands hover beneath the stream of water, washing away the sickening sensation that clings to them. He leaves them there until the heat of the water becomes too much for him to handle, hissing out a pained breath as he feels his skin scald. He quickly jerks them back, turning the water off and drying his hands on the bathroom towel. He looks up at his reflection in the mirror. He’s paler than usual, he notices, and there’s sweat beading on his brow despite the comfortable temperature of his house. He scrubs it away with the towel, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. When had his heart started beating so quickly? He swallows down the lump in his throat, carefully folding and replacing the towel as though it had never been touched at all.

He’s not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly, but he recognizes that it probably isn’t supposed to be happening. He doesn’t like to dwell on it, because then his thoughts start to race to places where he can’t control them, places where he’s still trapped in Mogami’s mindscape, fighting for his life in a completely different way than he’s grown accustomed to.

But he isn’t there anymore. He’s home, he’s safe, it’s over.

He repeats the thoughts in his head like a mantra. You’re home, you’re safe, it’s over. The tingling in his fingers is gone, and his heartbeat goes back to it’s regular speed. He feels like he could probably fall asleep now despite the fact that it’s the middle of the day. He still has homework to finish, though, so he returns to his desk and slips back into his chair.

As he attempts the math problem once more, he wonders if his classmates are struggling with the concepts as much as he is. His tongue feels dry. If he keeps making a fool of himself in class, they’ll keep pushing him around, calling him stupid and useless and spilling things on him. They might even try to hurt him, if they’re feeling particularly cruel that day, and he has no way of defending himself without his-

He lets out a gasp, shaking his head. His classmates had never done such things to him. They mostly ignore him, or at best, tolerate his presence. Sure, they laugh when he’s unable to answer the teacher’s question, but they’ve never done anything outright cruel to him, at least not to his face.

His head hurts. He scrubs at his face with both hands, groaning softly. His head feels foggy and his mind is racing, trying to reconcile two polarizing images of the same group of people he’s known since he was in grade school. It isn’t the first time he’s confused himself with conflicting memories, and every time it never fails to give him a splitting headache. He needs painkillers, and something to distract him from his unsettling thoughts.

His hand moves to pick up his phone as if on instinct, and before he knows it he’s opening up his text app in search of someone to reach out to. He pauses, fingers hovering over the keys. Hesitating. Reigen always gives good advice in times like these, but he’ll pry in deeper than Shigeo is willing to divulge. Ritsu, maybe? No, he’s still at school at this time, talking with the student council. He’s not sure Ritsu would be very good at taking his mind off of things, anyway.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s holding, Shigeo punches in Hanazawa Teruki’s contact. Yes, Teru would know what to do to take his mind off of things. He sends a quick, simple message: “Hello, Hanazawa. Are you busy?”

He keeps his messages brief and polite, refraining from using phrases that may come across as too friendly or overbearing. Teru’s never been one to take the professional route, though, and his reply comes a minute later.

“Hey, Kageyama! :D Ah, you could say so. I’m working on some homework for a class. Why, did you need something?”

A small smile comes to Shigeo’s face. Teru’s friendly tone is easy to respond to, and the emojis he always includes are an easy way for Shigeo to deduce how he’s feeling. Not to mention, they’re quite cute. “Ah, sorry to bother you, then. I was just wondering if you had time to hang out, but if you’re busy, then I understand,” he types in response, curt and apologetic.

“Don’t apologize! I should really take a break anyway,” Reads Teru’s text. “I’d love to hang out, actually! :) If you have some homework, why don’t we work on it together? You can come over to my place and keep me company.”

Shigeo’s gaze flicks to his half-filled notebook page. “Are you good at math?” he asks.

Teru’s reply is immediate. “I do well enough. I can help you with it if you like, as long as you help me with my japanese in return.”

Shigeo’s fairly confident that he can at least help a little bit when it comes to Japanese, so he agrees quickly to the arrangement and tells Teru that he’ll be over shortly. He packs up his school supplies and changes out of his uniform, trading his black slacks and jacket for a tee-shirt and jeans. He leaves his room and heads downstairs to walk over to the train station, bidding his mother goodbye with a promise to stay safe on his way.

The trip is quick and easy, nothing eventful getting in his way as he turns toward Teru’s apartment from the station. He’s only been there a handful of times, including the few hours he’s spent resting there after Ritsu was kidnapped by Claw, but he’s memorized the stop he needs to exit from and the route he takes to arrive at Teru’s front door.

Teru’s quick to answer when Shigeo knocks softly, greeting him with a smile and a wave. “Hi, Kageyama. Come on in and have a seat,” he says, stepping aside and holding the door open for Shigeo to move past him.

“Thanks for having me,” he says politely, slipping off his shoes and leaving them by the door like he always does when he comes over. He makes his way over to Teru’s living room, where his friend has already taken up shop to work on his own homework. There’s a textbook open on the coffee table beside his workbook, and an empty mug with the last dregs of a sweet-smelling tea in it. Shigeo sits down on the couch while Teru steeps another batch of the tea, a common routine for the two of them when they study together. He pulls his notebook out of his backpack and sets it up beside Teru’s, fetching a pencil from a side pocket to write with.

Teru joins him shortly after, a steaming cup in each hand, and sets one in front of Shigeo.

“Ah, thank you,” Shigeo murmurs, taking a tentative sip of the hot drink.

Teru flashes him a smile and plops down next to him, leaving just a few inches of space between them for their arms to move. Teru has always been the kind of person who likes to casually touch his friends, as far as Shigeo can tell, quick to guide him with a hand on his back or a congratulatory squeeze of his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch when their arms brush or their hands touch accidentally, and he’s quick to loop an arm around his shoulders or lean against him when he’s feeling tired. Shigeo doesn’t mind the constant contact, and Teru seems appreciative of his receptiveness, so when he lays an arm across the back of the couch behind Shigeo’s shoulders, he doesn’t react or draw attention to it. Instead he focuses on his math work, determined to solve the problem he’s stuck on.

Teru’s quick to jump in and help him, praising him for what he’s done correctly and gently pointing out his mistakes. Teru isn’t at all like his teachers or classmates, Shigeo realizes as he listens to Teru’s instructions. He moves at a pace Shigeo can easily keep up with and doesn’t berate him for not understanding right away, and he’s endlessly grateful for his friend’s innate understanding of him.

“Thank you, Hanazawa, this all makes much more sense now,” Shigeo says once they’ve gone through a few problems together. He turns to smile at Teru, setting down his pencil and letting his hands fall to his sides.

Teru’s face goes slightly pink, but the pleased smile on his face shows his gratitude at Shigeo’s words. “Anytime, Kageyama. There’s no better way to learn than by teaching someone else. At least, that’s what my math teacher always says,” he replies, reaching up with one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

His hair is getting longer again, Shigeo notices. He hums, thoughtful, and reaches out with a hand to brush aside a strand that’s fallen into Teru’s eyes. His fingers graze Teru’s temple as he does, feeling an annoying little zap at the miniscule contact. It’s not enough to make him flinch, but it’s noticeable nonetheless.

Teru doesn’t move away from his touch, but the blush on his cheeks darkens some, and he glances away in an almost embarrassed fashion. “Ah, it’s getting a bit long, isn’t it? I cut it short after our fight, but I’ve been growing it out since then. I kinda miss wearing it long,” he says, rambling a bit, but Shigeo doesn’t mind. Teru’s always been more of a talker than he is.

“It looks nice,” Shigeo compliments, letting his hand fall back to the couch again. He turns his attention back toward his homework, nearly finished now, as Teru falls quiet.

The other boy doesn’t respond, going back to his own work, but a moment later Shigeo feels bold fingers brush against the hand that rests between them, cautiously slotting themselves between his own.

The touch burns like fire almost immediately, seeping into his skin with jolts of white-hot electricity that stab up his arm and make his mind scream, Don’t touch me!

He rips his hand away with a pained gasp, holding it against his chest. The searing heat continues to spread, making his arms quiver against his control and causing his stomach to turn. He feels queasy and hot as the burn spreads to his head and he breaks into a sweat.

“I-I’m sorry,” Teru stammers, quickly retracting his hand. Shigeo’s head jerks to look at him. He looks incredibly guilty and a little mortified, actively leaning out of Shigeo’s space when he normally would lean in. “I just thought - I mean, it seemed like - ugh, what did I do?” He tears his gaze away, clasping his hands together as if to punish them for wandering.

Shigeo opens his mouth to reassure his friend that it’s alright, it’s not his fault, that there’s something wrong with himself that had caused a misunderstanding, but the words die in his throat. His tongue feels thick and dry, his throat thinner and hoarser with each passing second. He feels like he’s going to vomit.

He stands up in a hurry and makes a beeline for Teru’s bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him as he struggles to take a meaningful breath. His fingers burn terribly, the sensation making his stomach roll. He gags on his own choppy gasps, bracing his hands on the marble countertop around the sink and leaning over it in case he really does throw up. He feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest, and his lungs burn, as though there’s no oxygen in the air to replenish them. His face is pale and he’s begun sweating profusely, his forehead damp and cold to the touch. With a start he realizes that he’s crying, tears rolling down his cheeks and falling into the sink. His knees wobble, and his stomach does another nauseating flip. He barely manages to fall to his knees in front of the toilet before he’s heaving up the contents of that day’s breakfast and lunch into it.

There’s a knock at the door. “Kageyama? Are you alright?” Teru asks from behind the door, voice thick with concern.

Shigeo’s voice continues to evade him, stomach heaving once more, but there’s nothing left to throw up. He gags, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m coming in,” Teru warns. Shigeo hasn’t locked the door behind him, and it swings open with urgency. In a second Teru is at his side, a steady hand on his back. “Kageyama! You look terrible, what happened?” he frets, reaching across Shigeo’s back to tear a strip of toilet paper from the roll. He holds it out to him.

Shigeo draws in a shuddering breath, his shaky hands grasping the toilet’s rim so tightly his knuckles have gone white. After a moment he detaches one hand from it and takes the wad of paper from Teru’s outstretched hand, opening his eyes. His vision is fuzzy, black spots dancing at his periphery. Am I going to faint? he wonders with a flash of fear. He manages to wipe the edges of his mouth with the toilet paper, but his breath tastes like bile and his head feels like it’s going to burst. “Teru, I-I think I’m really sick,” he manages to choke out, voice shaky to the point of unintelligibility and thick with misery.

Teru takes the paper from Shigeo’s hand and drops it in the toilet, flushing away the evidence. Then he grasps him firmly by both shoulders and turns him so they’re facing each other. “You’re not sick, you’re panicking,” he says, reaching up with one hand to push Shigeo’s sweat-slicked bangs out of his face. His eyes flicker back and forth across Shigeo’s face, brows furrowed in unhidden concern. “You’re hyperventilating,” he realizes worriedly, biting his lower lip. “Try breathing with me, okay? In, and out…” Odd. Shigeo doesn’t feel like he’s breathing at all.

Teru holds his gaze as he repeats himself, over and over, and Shigeo fights to match his tempo. Teru’s thumb presses against the front of his shoulder and rubs small circles just beneath his collarbone, offering some sort of stimulation to distract him from his racing thoughts. Shigeo clasps his hands over his knees and digs his fingers in, the sensation keeping his vision from fuzzing out entirely.

He isn’t sure how long the two of them sit on the cold tile floor for, Teru murmuring words of reassurance to Shigeo as he fights to control his rapid breathing, but eventually the dark spots fade and the throbbing in his head goes down enough to let him think again. His face is slick from sweat, but his hands have stopped burning, a faint tingle all that remains.

Teru stands up and releases his hold on Shigeo, wetting a rag with cold water from the tap above them. Shigeo’s breathing stalls for a split second at the loss of contact before starting back up again, unsure what to do until Teru kneels in front of him again and presses the cold cloth to his face. The sting of it shocks Shigeo to his senses, his hands twitching involuntarily. “Cold,” he gasps.

Teru chuckles, using the wet rag to mop away the sweat that clings to Shigeo’s forehead. “It’ll make you feel better,” he assures, holding the cloth against the back of his neck.

Shigeo lets out a breathy sigh as the rag cools his overheated face and neck and makes him feel overall a little less sticky and gross. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“It’s no problem. I, uh, know what it feels like,” Teru admits with a smile, and it’s so soft and sincere and caring that Shigeo almost does a double-take. “Still, you gave me a scare. What happened?”

Shigeo glances down, focusing on the fading coldness on the back of his neck. He doesn’t answer, but not because he doesn’t want to tell Teru what’s been going on. He simply doesn’t know how to put his feelings into words.

Thankfully, Teru seems to pick up on his thoughts. “Well, there’s no need to force yourself,” he says, removing the rag from Shigeo’s neck and setting it on the bathroom counter. He pushes himself to his feet. “Do you want to use my shower? It always helps me to feel better when I’m feeling overwhelmed, plus it’s good for thinking. I’ll lend you something clean to wear, too, so you don’t have to stay in those sweaty clothes.” He extends a hand out for Shigeo to take, then his smile falters and he appears to think better of it. He swallows visibly, curling his arm up toward his chest as a form of recoil. Shigeo doesn’t blame him, after the way he’d reacted to the last time they’d touched hands.

Shigeo tears his gaze away from Teru’s hand and looks down at himself as Teru mentions his clothes, flinching at his bedraggled appearance. There’s sweat stains in the pits of his white tee-shirt and, horrifyingly, a few spots of vomit that hadn’t quite hit the mark. He bites back what he wants to say, an instinctive reassurance that he’s fine and doesn’t need to be taken care of anymore, and instead just nods his head. “That sounds like a good idea,” he sighs.

“Great. I’ll grab you a change of clothes, then, and a fresh towel,” Teru says, pretending his little misstep hadn’t occurred at all. “You can use my shampoo and stuff if you want, I doubt you’ll use as much as I always do.” He laughs at his own words, turning to the door, but it comes across nervous. “Be right back,” he adds as an afterthought, pulling the door half-shut behind him to offer some semblance of privacy.

Shigeo takes a deep breath and hauls himself to his feet, using the edge of the counter as leverage. He still feels a bit shaky on his feet, but as least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to keel over and pass out anymore. He runs the tap water cold, scrubbing his hands briefly with Teru’s citrusy soap, and feels the last remnants of the burning sensation disappear as the water washes them away. He lets out a breath of relief at the return to semi-normalcy, though he’s still pale and a little uncertain on his feet. He splashes some of the cold water on his face for good measure before turning off the tap.

Teru returns, silently pushing open the bathroom door, as Mob is drying his face. He has a fluffy gray towel draped over his arm, along with the promised change of clothes. “These should fit you, I hope,” he says, setting them in a neat pile atop the kitchen counter. Then he holds the towel out to Shigeo. “Here, you can use this. Just hang it up on the hook once you’re finished so it can dry.” He nods his head toward the hook that protrudes from the inside of the bathroom door.

Shigeo manages a small smile, accepting the towel from Teru’s outstretched hand. “Of course. Thanks again, Hanazawa,” he says. “I’ll make it up to you soon.”

“Don’t worry about things like that. We’re friends, so there’s no need to keep track of favors,” Teru assures with a wave of his hand. He steps out of the bathroom to give Shigeo some space. “I’m going to work on some more homework while you shower, so just come find me when you’re done, okay?”

Shigeo nods in agreement and Teru closes the door behind him with a parting smile, leaving Shigeo alone with the shower.

He takes advantage of Teru’s offer to use his shampoo, scrubbing the salty sweat from his hair and filling the misty air with the scent of Teru’s fruity hair products. He pushes his bangs away with his fingers and cranes his neck back, letting the warm water pelt his face and return color to his cheeks. He takes deep breaths, letting his thoughts wander. He obviously owes Teru an explanation for his unexpected outburst, but he still isn’t entirely sure what had caused it. He glances down at his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers. Ever since his encounter with Mogami, he hasn’t been able to touch anyone else without feeling like he’s been scorched by an open flame. His hands had it the worst, he’d determined. That’s not even counting the times he’s found himself staring at the throats of his classmates, his mind flashing back to the student he’d nearly asphyxiated in Mogami’s monochromatic world.

Taking a breath, Shigeo lifts a hand and lightly covers his own throat. He can distinctly remember the feeling of Teru’s fingers digging into his flesh, squeezing until no air could pass in or out. His touch had left no bruises at the time, Shigeo’s body hyper-durable as a result of his psychic powers, but the memory is still there. He’d long forgiven Teru for their fight, to the point where he hardly thought back on the event anymore, at least before Mogami. Since then the thought has come up more and more often, as he recalls his imaginary classmate’s terrified eyes and gasping breaths. Did I sound like that, when Teru attacked me? he wonders, frowning.

Teru… he’d have to apologize properly for the way he’d reacted. In truth, he’d kind of wanted to hold his hand. He’d been curious about it for a while now, actually, since the two of them had infiltrated and subsequently escaped the Claw 7th division headquarters and Teru had proven himself to be a loyal and dependable friend. He caught himself staring, sometimes, at Teru’s face, at his back, his hands, a quiet curiosity he wasn’t bold enough to act on, but that was always there. What would Teru do if he decided to hug him, or reach for his hand? Would he even be able to without feeling the fire burning him?

He turns off the water after several minutes of simply standing under the hot spray, toweling himself off. He slips into Teru’s lent clothes, a soft pink sweater and comfortable gray sweats, chuckling softly. Even now, Teru was trying his best to take care of him. He appreciates his friend’s experience and comforting presence, but he knows he has a hard conversation ahead of him. He uses the towel to soak up the extra water from his hair until it’s damp instead of dripping, then hangs it up on the hook behind the door to dry. Then he cracks open the bathroom door and slips outside, leaving it open to ventilate the mist.

When he pads, barefoot, out of the bathroom, he spots Teru sitting back on the couch, staring at his open notebook. He’s not holding a pencil, though, and his leg bounces restlessly. He looks up as Shigeo exits. “Ah, you’re finished. Do you feel better now?” he asks with that familiar soft smile.

Shigeo swallows and nods, already feeling his nervousness bubbling up as he crosses the room to take his seat beside Teru once again. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for troubling you,” he replies.

Teru shakes his head. “It isn’t your fault. You had a panic attack, and a pretty bad one at that. Those things are out of our control.”

Shigeo clasps his hands together. “So, you get them, too?” he asks softly.

“Sometimes.” Teru looks down at his empty tea mug. “I’ve learned how to cope with them, to an extent. Have you had one before?”

Shigeo hums, then nods, remembering how he’d felt the burning in his fingers just that afternoon. At the time he hadn’t been able to place what was wrong, but it fit in hindsight, now that Teru had explained it to him. “Never as bad as that, but sometimes my hands get really hot and shaky, and I get pale and sweaty, and it’s hard to breath for a while. When that happens, I always wash my hands with hot water and it goes away. This time was… the worst one, so far,” he admits. “I’m sorry I reacted so badly to you touching me.”

Teru chokes on a nervous chuckle, which turns into a brief cough. He clears his throat into his hand. “Ah, I shouldn’t have done that without permission. It was just an urge, I suppose. You obviously didn’t like it though, so I won’t do it again, I promise,” he says, but he can’t stop the hints of disappointment that come through as he speaks.

Shigeo shakes his head quickly. “No, I didn’t dislike it,” he assures. “I normally don’t mind when you touch me, I even like it most of the time. I just haven’t really… been myself lately, I suppose.” He unclasps his fingers and stares down at his open palms, frowning. “When you touched my hand, it felt like it was burning. Other times, when I’ve felt panicked, my hands will start itching until I can’t take it anymore. Like when a mosquito bites you, but far worse. It’s only my hands, too. When Master grabs my shoulder or something like that, it doesn’t have the same effect.”

Teru looks concerned to hear this, but there’s some relief in his face too, that Shigeo hasn’t completely rejected his touch. “When did this start happening?” he asks.

“It’s been about a week,” Shigeo admits softly. He fiddles with the soft edge of his borrowed sweater to give his hands something to do. “Ever since I defeated Mogami Keiji.”

Teru’s eyes widen at the name; Shigeo’s told him about Mogami’s psychic powers and the world he’d lived in for six months, but at the time he’d played it off as something that was over, finished. As it would appear, it isn’t over at all. “Did something happen in there that’s making you panic? A bad experience, or something he said to you?” His voice is edging on protective, Shigeo realizes, and the thought is oddly comforting. What isn’t comforting, however, is the realization that he’ll have to describe what he’d done.

He falls quiet for several seconds, but Teru is patient, and doesn’t push him for answers before he’s ready. Shigeo is grateful. Teru is trustworthy, he knows, and he’s sure that he won’t think any less of him for something that technically never really happened, but that doesn’t keep the doubts from coming. Shigeo can feel his headache resurfacing as he struggles to tell himself that, yeah, it wasn’t something he’d actually done with his own two hands. His body had been in Reigen and Dimple’s care at the time, but in the moment it had felt very real. “I think I almost killed someone, in Mogami’s dream land,” he confesses, the words heavy on his tongue. “They were bullying me, telling me I was stupid and worthless and terrible. I just felt so angry.” He pauses to take a breath, trying not to ramble, but the words don’t stop coming. “I know it wasn’t a real place, and I was being influenced by an evil spirit, but those are still choices that I made, I think. Sometimes my memories from that world bleed out into this one and I catch myself being scared of my classmates, wondering when they’re going to beat me up next or what horrible things they’re saying when I’m not around. To be honest, I-I can’t tell my real memories apart from the ones Mogami created for me. My heart knows what’s real, but my head gets all fuzzy and my memories get all jumbled up and then I get a really bad headache and nothing gets solved at all.”

As if on cue, Shigeo feels his head throb painfully, and he stifles a pained noise, wincing.

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough time,” Teru says, but there’s an uncertainty to his voice that says he really has no idea what Shigeo’s talking about. He stands up and moves into the kitchen, rifling around in one of the cabinets. Shigeo doesn’t blame him for not understanding. He doubts many others have had an experience like he has, and if they had, they likely hadn’t lived through it.

“I had thought it was over,” he sighs, pausing as his head gives another painful throb. “It’s been a week, Hanazawa. I feel like it should be in the past now.” He leans his forehead into one hand, the other falling limp on his lap, palm skyward.

Teru returns, pressing a bottle into Shigeo’s free hand. He’s careful not to let their skin touch, which Shigeo is simultaneously grateful and disappointed about. He doesn’t want Teru to distance himself over something that shouldn’t even be happening, but, well, he wasn’t left with much of a choice. Teru sets a cup of water on the table in front of him and says, “Take two.”

Shigeo blinks, glancing at the label on the bottle. Painkillers. Relieved, he untwists the bottle’s cap and shakes two bright red pills out of it, setting it aside and picking up the cup. He downs both pills with one swig of water. “Thank you, I think I needed that,” he sighs.

Teru hums to show he’s heard, but he’s deep in thought. “I’m no therapist, Kageyama, but I think what you experienced classifies as trauma, maybe even PTSD,” he says after a moment of quiet. “It’s obviously had a prolonged effect on your body, and your mind. That kind of thing can cause panic attacks like the one you had. To be honest, I’m not sure there's much I can do to help you with that.”

Shigeo sighs, slumping over in his seat. “I don’t know where else to go,” he says softly. “I know there’s something wrong with me, and that I should probably see a doctor, or-or a therapist, but what am I supposed to tell them that won’t make me sound like I’ve gone insane?” He pauses, takes a moment to breath before things get out of control again. “I think, if I can create a divide between what’s real and what happened in my dream, some of these symptoms will go away, but I don’t know how to do that by myself.”

Teru leans back in his seat, worrying his lip between his teeth for a moment. Then he blinks, eyes bright, and sits straight up again. “Why don’t we make a game out of it?” he suggests. “Tell me something that happened, it doesn’t matter where the memory comes from. I’ll tell you if it’s real or not.” He grins at the idea, looking quite pleased with it.

Shigeo blinks. Could that really work? “What about the things I never told you about?” he asks. He and Teru talk often, whether it’s in person or via text, but there’s no way Teru will be able to dissect all his jumbled memories.

“Well, I’ll just have to admit defeat at that point, then,” Teru replies with a shrug, “but I think it’s worth a shot, if you’re willing to give it a try.”

Shigeo hums, mulling it over. It couldn’t hurt, as far as he can imagine. “Okay, let’s try it,” he agrees. He combs through his recent memories, searching for something he knows is true. “Um… I tried to run for student council once, but when it was time for me to speak, I didn’t say anything,” he begins.

“That’s true,” Teru says immediately. “That was when Emi asked you out.”

Shigeo smiles; it kind of feels like a quiz show. “Alright. I once exorcised a group of over fifteen bikers and their gang boss.”

“True,” Teru repeats. “You exorcised a huge evil spirit there too, right?”

Shigeo nods, chuckling softly. “It was big, but it wasn’t very strong,” he confirms. “Okay, next one, then… Sometimes, my classmates like to hit me for fun.”

Teru’s smile falters at this, obviously put off a bit by the morbid tone, but plays along for the sake of the game. “No, that’s false. Your classmates mostly don’t pay attention to you at all.”

Shigeo lets out a relieved breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says. Logically, he’d always known the difference between Mogami’s harsh reality and his own privileged life, but something within him felt validated that someone else could also make the distinction. “Why don’t you do one, Hanazawa?”

“Me?” Teru echoes in surprise. “Hmm, I guess I can try to trick you with a lie.” He taps his chin with one finger, searching for something to say. “When I was a kid, I used to look for coins on the school playground and collect them in a little jar.”

Shigeo’s face splits into a smile. “Ah, I remember you talking about that. It’s true,” he says. “Okay, my turn. When my brother sees me in trouble, he sometimes avoids getting involved to protect himself.”

Teru shakes his head. “No way, Ritsu is way too protective of you to ever do that,” he says. “False.” He fixes Shigeo with his dark blue gaze, growing more confident in his answers. “I broke off my connection to Blake Vinegar’s gang after you beat me in a fight,” he says, leaning forward in his seat.

Shigeo nods. “It was one of the first things you did.”

Teru’s eyebrows raise and he sports a devious grin. “Oh? Who says I’m not still controlling them from the shadows?” he challenges.

Shigeo doesn’t answer, but after a moment they both devolve into fits of uncontrollable giggling. It’s good to know that they can joke about those days without feeling like it’s bringing up bad memories. Rather, the incident merely marks the start of their friendship. “I can’t imagine you doing things like that now,” he says. “You’ve changed a lot, Hanazawa.”

Teru’s laughter turns more self-conscious at Shigeo’s compliment, but he’s clearly pleased to be told so. “Yeah? I’m glad. You’ve changed quite a bit yourself, Kageyama. In a good way,” he replies, and the pink flush is back.

Shigeo finds himself staring at it, somewhat distracted. “True or false,” he begins, voice softening. “You and I are friends in both worlds.”

Teru blinks. “I don’t know,” he replies, “but we’re definitely friends in this one, so that’s what’s important.”

Shigeo nods, accepting this. He shifts a touch closer to Teru, fiddling with the fingers on one of his hands. His leg and Teru’s are nearly touching. “You and I broke into the Claw 7th Division headquarters after Ritsu was kidnapped.”

“That’s true,” Teru replies, glancing at Shigeo curiously. He’s noticed the way Shigeo is inching closer, as though he has a purpose behind wanting to be so close.

He reaches out and brushes the back of his knuckles against the side of Teru’s hand experimentally, catching the hitch in Teru’s breathing when they make contact. Unpleasant sparks poke at his skin where it touches Teru’s, and he draws back quickly, thoughtful. Teru has his eyes fixed on him, concerned but curious. He continues, “Sometimes I come to your school to walk you to my apartment for our study sessions.”

Shigeo nods. His reaches out again, this time touching with the pads of his fingers. He lets the touch linger, and Teru doesn’t move, frozen in place. Shigeo draws a sharp breath, wincing. Electric shocks sting his fingertips, but the heat is bearable for a few seconds before he feels like he needs to retreat. When he finally does, he says, “That’s true.”

“Yeah, it is,” Teru agrees, breathless. Shigeo stares at his fingers, eyebrows furrowed, and catches Teru turn over his hand in his periphery, his palm facing toward the ceiling. “Once, I even went back to your house, and we did homework in your room instead. Your mom wouldn’t leave us alone, and kept asking if we wanted snacks.”

Shigeo cracks a smile at this, and when his hand ventures out this time, he presses his palm against Teru’s and just lets them rest on top of each other. He tenses, hot needles poking into the surface of his palm. He curls his fingers around Teru’s hand and squeezes it, willing the sensation to disappear. I control my own life, he reminds himself firmly, and doesn’t let go despite the occasional stab of discomfort in his palm. He feels the heat spread upward, sweat beading at his hairline, but he doesn’t feel like he’s panicking, so he doesn’t let go.

Teru shifts his grip, emboldened, and slots their fingers together.

Shigeo stumbles over his breath, eyes widening. The motion feels like two strips of sandpaper rubbing together, chafing him. Teru jolts, moving to disconnect their hands, but Shigeo stops him before he can go through with it, squeezing his hand tightly to prevent him from moving too far away.

He flinches as the burning sensation begins, crawling from his fingertips up his arm. “It hurts,” he grunts through clenched teeth, but he maintains his grip on Teru’s hand despite the way Teru moves once more to break the contact. He looks up and meets Teru’s dark blue gaze. “Wait, just a bit longer.”

Teru stares at him, fear and uncertainty in his gaze, but doesn’t force him to let go, just squeezes his hand back in an attempt to reassure him that all will be well. “I stole you away from a date so you could break up your little brother’s fight after he discovered his psychic powers,” he says, watching Shigeo carefully.

The boy chuckles under his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He’s thankful that Teru can still find ways to lighten the mood, even though he’s clearly just as distraught as Shigeo is. “It wasn’t a date, I’ve told you that before,” he insists, calming some.

Eventually, thankfully, the burning sensation reaches a peak and then begins to wane. Shigeo feels the heat in his face go down with his timed breathing, and he relaxes the iron grip he’d been holding Teru’s hand with. He doesn’t let go, though, feeling the itchy tingles and occasional stabs of discomfort lingering. “Are you okay?” Teru asks, worried.

Shigeo nods, giving his hand a little squeeze and smiling at the little noise of surprise Teru makes. He coughs into his hand, though it doesn’t sound very convincing. “How do you feel?” he says after a moment.

Shigeo’s eyelids droop, but he continues to cradle Teru’s hand in his; his skin is soft and the way he holds his hand is endearingly gentle. “Itchy, but otherwise okay. I think it’s going away, for now,” he says, rubbing his thumb experimentally against Teru’s. Without warning, he drops his head to Teru’s shoulder, sighing out sofly, “Your hand is warm.”

Teru jumps slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxes into Shigeo’s touch the way he always does. “Good warm or bad warm?” he asks lamely, all his usual flirtatiousness and bravado and confidence blown out the window by one unpredictable Shigeo.

“Good warm,” Shigeo murmurs. “My head feels a bit clearer, too. I think the game worked, at least a little.” It hasn’t cleared up all his misgivings, and there are still plenty of jumbled memories in his head, but he’s starting to see the distinctions that separated the real world from the fabricated one, now that someone else has been able to reaffirm them. He bites back a yawn, humming sleepily. “That made me tired. I was already kind of drowsy from before I came over,” he says. The painkillers are starting to kick in, thankfully, dulling the pounding in his head and, interestingly, banishing the lingering itchiness from his hands.

Teru peers down at him through dark blue eyes. “Wow, you do look tired. Will you be alright getting home by yourself? Your house is pretty far away from here,” he points out. “Maybe you should just stay here for the night. It’s dangerous to fall asleep on the train, and I’d hate for you to end up lost.”

Shigeo hums noncommittally, drawing a chuckle from Teru’s lips. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Don’t fall asleep yet, though, you need to tell your parents that you’re staying over. You don’t want to worry them, after all.”

Reluctantly, Shigeo sits up and picks up his phone from the coffee table. “Alright, I’ll give mom a call. Thanks for letting me stay, you’re probably right about falling asleep on the train. Honestly, I don’t know if I can keep my eyes open much longer.”

“I’ll make space in my room,” Teru says, standing up. He hesitates for a moment before untangling his fingers from Shigeo’s, then turns away before he can see his expression. “Er, be right back,” he adds, moving across the living room and disappearing into his bedroom.

Shigeo feels a flash of disappointment at the loss of contact. He likes holding hands with Teru, and he hopes his friend won’t be hesitant about touching him now. He doesn’t want to lose that contact. Shaking his head, he calls up his mother and tells her that he’ll be back the next morning. Thankfully, it’s a weekend, which means he doesn’t have to worry about waking up extra early to go home for his uniform, and his mother sounds almost excited to hear that he’s staying with a friend. Well, she’s always liked Teru. “Thanks, mom. Love you too, bye,” he says, and ends the call as Teru reemerges from his room.

“Okay, I know you’re tired,” Teru says, making his way over to where a small television is set up in the corner of the living room, “but hear me out. This is a sleepover now, which means we have to watch a movie.” He’s carrying a bunched-up, thick blanket in one arm, which he tosses onto the couch beside Shigeo. “If you’re up for it, of course. It’s an action movie.”

Well, Shigeo thinks, amused, I can’t say no to an action movie. It was his favorite genre, after all, so he nods in agreement. “Mmhmm, that’s okay. I might fall asleep during it, though,” he warns, if only so Teru doesn’t get offended.

Teru just smiles at him, popping the disk into his DVD player and turning on the television. “No problem,” he replies, moving back to the couch and taking his seat beside his friend. He takes the blanket and drapes it over both of them.

They sit close together as the intro to the movie begins, but Shigeo is quick to notice that Teru consciously avoids bumping into him by accident. He’s trying to be considerate, he knows, but it’s still a little frustrating that Teru was changing his typical behavior over concern. It’s nice of him to want to stay within Shigeo’s comfort zone, but it’s not what Shigeo wants him to do. After a few minutes of sitting quietly, Shigeo reaches over and takes Teru’s hand once more, linking their fingers together over top of the blanket. He scoots closer to make the action more comfortable, too, letting his side press against Teru’s so their linked hands lay atop his lap. He glances at Teru, searching for signs of discomfort, and instead finds Teru fighting an obviously pleased grin.

Smiling softly, he returns his attention to the movie. His hand feels normal, to his relief, and he’s fairly sure the painkillers Teru lent him are partly to thank for that. Even if it’s temporary, he basks in the feeling of Teru’s soft skin against his own, the way he idly rubs circles into his skin with his thumb. Despite the action happening on the tv screen, Shigeo finds his eyelids drooping within the first hour, lulled by the long day he’d had and Teru’s fond touch.

“Can I lay on you?” Shigeo asks, stifling a yawn behind his free hand as he turns to look at his… friend? He blinks, mind blanking. All of a sudden friend doesn’t feel like the right word. The thought knocks him so off-guard that he nearly misses Teru’s nod, a subtle action of consent.

“I don’t mind.”

Shigeo nods back, removing his hand from Teru’s light grasp and shifting away from him to make room. Teru looks confused about why he’s putting distance between them, but then Shigeo lowers himself down onto the couch and lays his head down on Teru’s lap.

It takes Teru a moment to relax into this new position, but he’s never been one to shy away from an affectionate touch. He moves one arm to the side of the couch and lets it rest there, his other hand hovering, unsure where to let it fall. After a moment, however, it finds a place at the back of Shigeo’s head, threading into his hair. His touch is calculated, experimental. Shigeo can tell he doesn’t want to go too far. “Is this okay?” Teru asks him in a soft voice, his fingers traveling down and brushing Shigeo’s bangs away from his forehead.

“Yes,” Shigeo replies, voice thick with weariness. He lets out a soft hum as Teru’s fingers grow more confident, drawing through his bangs and brushing over the skin of his scalp in feather-light touches. He closes his eyes, the movie forgotten. Part of him doesn’t want to sleep yet, wants to watch more of the movie, but Teru makes the decision for him. He removes his hand from Shigeo’s hair, and a moment later he feels the blanket being tucked around his shoulders and neck so it covers him completely. Then the hand returns to his hair, rhythmically brushing it away from his face as soft fingers trace his hairline and tickle the back of his neck.

In the soft, fuzzy space between wakefulness and sleep, he feels Teru bend over him and brush his lips over his temple, feather-soft and loving. They leave a warmth behind them, bringing a faint smile to Shigeo’s face as Teru’s soft caresses lull him into a quick and comfortable sleep.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #terumob #hanazawa teruki #kageyama shigeo #my writing #fanfic #panic attack #dissociation #vomiting #over 8000 words #oof thats longer than usual #worth it tho #i love considerate/caring teru #hes such a good kid #once you get past the superiority complex

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exceedinglyregular · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Fun fact- Andrew can sing and often writes songs in his downtime. Fun fact- he is also hopelessly in love with one Steven Lim. After Steven moves to LA, Andrew is broken. His songs get sadder and the small collection of people who knows this are worried for him. Cue some help from Ryan Bergara, who also writes songs and sings- this time for Shane Madej, who he is moping after. The two help each other write songs, make a name for themselves, and find happiness in those they love.

I decided to interpret your prompt in a slightly weird different way. I apologise for my weird brain.

Also sorry about the tardiness, coming up with original lyrics is a lot tougher than I anticipated. Plus the story kept literally growing on me even though I wanted to keep it short and sweet.

(ao3 link for those who prefer: here)

Title: To the Tune of Your Heart

“What. The. Hell.” Andrew’s head immediately snaps around to look at Adam, those words don’t sound right coming out of his soft-spoken friend’s mouth. He’s flipping through Andrew’s notebook with a look of disbelief on his face. “Okay, some of these are downright depressing. Are you okay?”

“Not all the songs are from my perspective,” Andrew replies nonchalantly. He continues setting up the lights they needed for filming. Adam looks up, annoyed. Andrew sighs. “I’m okay. There I answered your question, now help me with this.” Adam obliges.

…

so i’m a liar, sue mei did what i had toyou never wanted to hurt mebut i did it for you

now you’re happy, without meam i the fool?i should be angrybut i’m happy for you

…

Ryan stares at his reflection in his phone’s blank screen, waiting… Yeah, seems like he forgot, no surprise there. Groaning, Ryan drops his phone on the pillow next to his head, and rolls over to where his laptop is. He lifts the lid and sighs. It’s looking like another solo brainstorm session.

Ryan clicks around aimlessly and accidentally opens a draft of a song he’s writing: ‘For You’. It’s incomplete, much like his life. Ryan cringes at his own thought. It’s been years but he’s still not over it.

Shane has a girlfriend now, and he’s happy. In fact, he’s so happy that he’s probably on a date with her right now, completely forgetting that he agreed to help Ryan out with coming up with ideas for their next videos. Ryan swears he’s not bitter, he swears he’s happy for Shane.

…

it’s not the samein two different citieswho can i blame?i just stood there and watched you leave

spinning round and roundwaiting for your calli’m still holding onnothing else matters more

if this is all there isthen i’m sorry to saythis is where it all endsthere’s no other way

…

This isn’t working. Andrew smacks his face onto the dining table, this is the fifth batch already. Adam has since been long gone, went home to get ready for work. Andrew lifts his head slightly, only to bring it back down onto the table. Hard. He repeats it several times, hoping the pain would give him some clarity of mind.

As fledgling YouTubers, the cards were already stacked against them. But now with his own ineptitude, Andrew’s certain he’s gonna delete the entire subscriber-base that he and Adam had worked so hard to build. Andrew groans, it’s loud and dragged out, and interrupted by a knock on his front door.

It’s probably Adam, having forgotten his jacket or keys or something. Andrew doesn’t care. He shuffles over to open the door, ready to make a snippy remark about Adam’s poor memory. But the words he planned dies in his throat as he realizes who’s standing there. It’s not Adam.

“Ryan?”

The man waves tiredly, a wry smile on his lips. Then his eyes suddenly grow comically large as he points at Andrew’s forehead.

“You’re bleeding!”

Andrew lifts his hand to touch his forehead and sure enough, it pulls back with a thick, bright red liquid covering his fingers.

“So I am,” Andrew states matter-of-factly, completely unperturbed.

…

i got a problemyeah, i got a problem with youdon’t pretend you don’t knowwhat’s the matter with you?

all i wanted to bewas just your friendand that would be the end of itbut you had to goand ruin everythingwith your stupid beautiful facewhat the hell

i got a problem with youi got a bone to pickdon’t pretend you don’t knowwhat i want from you

…

With Andrew all patched up, Ryan can finally relax. He tosses the towel he used into the sink, there is an obscene amount of red on the towel, the sink, and everywhere in between.

Andrew leaves the bathroom without so much as a ‘thank you’, eliciting an eye-roll from Ryan, even though no one is around to witness it. He follows his friend out to the dimly lit dining room.

“What are those?” Ryan points at the weird lumps on the table.

“They’re SUPPOSED to be giant cinnamon rolls.” Andrew sighs, and runs a hand down his face in dramatic fashion, decidedly avoiding the bandage on his forehead.

“Oh yeah, I see it now. I thought they looked like baked poop emojis… no offense!” Ryan gingerly prods the rolls, wondering if they would collapse on themselves as he did that. Andrew for the most part didn’t look angry, just tired.

“None taken. They did turn out pretty shitty.” Ryan bites back a laugh. “So what brings you here tonight?”

“Oh, the usual: boredom, loneliness, heartbreak,” Ryan replies, faux-cheerily. Andrew raises an eyebrow before giving a sympathetic smile.

“Yikes. Sounds bad.” Ryan simply shrugs in response, there isn’t much to be said about his situation, Andrew already knows most of the details. And reciprocally, Andrew had shared his own problems with Ryan. Critically, the one involving a certain someone whose name begins with the letter ’s’ and ends with the letter ‘Lim’.

It’s the main reason Ryan came over in the first place, none of his other friends can relate to his plight to the same degree that Andrew does. Granted, it’s still ways off from complete understanding but it’s better than nothing.

“How’s the side-business going?” Ryan asks as he flips through the notebook that was lying on an otherwise empty chair.

Andrew doesn’t answer verbally, only giving Ryan a weary thumbs-down. Scanning line after smudgy line, an idea suddenly dawns on Ryan.

“What if I helped you out? I may know jackshit about baking, but songwriting… I do know a thing or two.”

Andrew looks hesitant, he scratches at his beard absentmindedly. He’s the sort who would refuse to admit he needs help even when he’s completely and utterly at wit’s end. Closing his eyes, he sighs, tension leaving his body. Ryan knows he’s giving in.

“Okay, but I’m helping you too.”

“Deal.”

…

normally i can be cooland keep it togetherbut when i’m around youi can’t control myself

boy, oh boyyou just had to do me like thisjust one smile from youoh, and i melt away

…

“Do I really have to?” Andrew mumbles, he’s not exactly thrilled with this idea.

He and Ryan are in his living room, everything has been set up to film him performing one of his songs. They spent the past few weeks working on Andrew’s songs, some old, some new, but all Steven-related.

“Just trust me… even if you don’t post this online, you’ll be glad to have something to look back at,” Ryan assures him, while adjusting the lens on the camera to get the focus right.

Andrew pokes at one of the keys on the piano, the sound that it creates is shaky and uncertain, which is exactly how Andrew is feeling. Not many people know about this side of him. He’s always been too scared to sing in front of an audience, performing one of his original compositions is ever further out of the question.

What if he’s not good? What if people hate his voice? Or his lyrics? Ryan said he didn’t have to publish this online but… he can’t stop his mind from wandering into those dark thoughts. Worse still, what if HE hates it? What if he hates his own singing? His own voice?

A weight finds it way onto Andrew’s shoulder, pressing down so suddenly that Andrew jumps up, knocking his knees against the piano. Ouch.

“Hey, hey… relax. You got this.” Ryan’s smiling assuringly, he squeezes Andrew’s shoulder lightly. “You got an amazing voice, believe me… I’m actually jealous.” This line gets some laughter from Andrew, who shakes his head disbelievingly.

“Alright, here goes nothing…”

…

something’s differentmaybe it’s just mebut when you talkall i’m hearing isblah, blah, blah…

has the curse finally been broken?please let it bei’ve had enoughi did my time

…

“Nope, no way. ‘Bergara guitarrar’ is not happening.” Ryan is shaking his head so violently his glasses almost fly off. Shane merely laughs at his objection.

“I mean you don’t actually have to do it just because the hashtag is trending. I’m not going to force you to…” Shane trails off, a trying-to-look-innocent smile on his face. Ryan swears he can see the effort Shane is putting into trying to pop out a halo, and it annoys the hell out of him.

“What the fuck, Shane?! The entire reason you started the hashtag is to pressure me into doing it!” Ryan angrily snatches the bowl of popcorn out of Shane’s hands and stuffs his face with a handful. If he didn’t, he might end up saying something he’d regret.

“You got me there.” The playful energy in Shane deflates, as does his posture. Normally, this action puts a hole in Ryan’s heart but today it sits steeled, unpunctured. He needs to stay strong for this.

Ryan sets the bowl down on the table, one set of fingers clawing away at the popcorn, the other swiping across the trackpad on his laptop. The webpage is scrolling, slowly, but his eyes aren’t focused on the words. He doesn’t have the energy to read.

When he broke up with Shane years ago, he convinced the both of them that it’s because it wasn’t working. That Ryan didn’t feel the same way towards his boyfriend like he did before. But all of it was a lie. The real reason he ended the relationship was for Shane’s sake, the other man was still too uncomfortable with his own sexuality. Shane merely pushed onwards to please him, Ryan was certain of it.

He had initially though that Shane was just being awkward in a new relationship but as the months dragged on, it became abundantly clear that the whole experience was setting Shane on the edge. And that wasn’t what Ryan wanted for him, he didn’t want Shane to force himself to confront his bisexuality when he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want Shane to be miserable just so Ryan can date him, that’s a fucked-up relationship. Hence the break up.

It had initially devastated Shane but Ryan could see the tension in him dissolving over the next few days. Despite the uphill battle, they did eventually manage to return to being just friends. Ryan is certain that never in a million years will he regret his decision, but part of him still wishes that they can get back together. And that part has been getting louder and more insistent over time. Right now, however, all he wants is for Shane to go away.

Too bad the universe hates him, as Shane maneuvers around the dining table just to face him. He flips the chair around and sits backwards on it, leaning forward against the backrest. Ryan doesn’t look up from the screen but imagines Shane resting his head on his crossed arms.

“Ryan,” Shane pleads, sounding more tired than Ryan has ever heard him. “I just think it’s a waste to not showcase that talent of yours.” Ryan doesn’t buy it.

“Bull. Shit. You want to embarrass me.” His patience is running thin but Shane doubles down on his objective, much to Ryan’s chagrin. He leans in and lowers the lid on Ryan’s laptop, looking him straight in the eye. When Ryan refuses to maintain visual contact, Shane seizes the bowl and Ryan instinctually glares at him.

“I don’t. Serious! I’m not saying this simply because you’re my friend, but you got a gift! You should unleash it onto the world!” Ryan waves a hand, physically dismissing Shane’s compliment with certain irritation. He has a point, those words are almost identical to the ones he told Andrew last week, but he refuses to let Shane win.

“Yeah, yeah… still not happening.” Ryan raises the lid of his laptop back up, he cracks his knuckles and begin typing away. “Can we just focus on the research?

Shane sighs heavily, nodding reluctantly. He has given up, for now… Ryan knows him better than to think that he has seen the end of this.

…

back to the startjust a stranger to you nowno matter what i doyou won’t turn around

finally got to know youthen you just had to leave mebehind with all these memoriesoh, what am i to do?

…

The videos were a huge hit, just like Ryan said they would be. Andrew absentmindedly taps his fingers on his knees, watching the numbers on his phone’s screen climb. People are still very much into it, he’s uploaded three songs now and with each one receiving more praises than the last, they aren’t looking much like a fluke.

Andrew locks his phone and tosses it onto the pillow next to him. He should be happy about the success he’s found with his music. The reactions he got were well beyond his wildest imagination. The channel tripled in subscribers, and the videos individually garnered more views than all their previous ones combined. All good news. Except that one no-news.

There’s still no word from Steven, they did still message each other sporadically since Steven moved to Los Angeles to chase his dreams of starring on the silver screen. But ever since the first song went online, it’s been radio silent, and the lack of anything at all is beginning to kill Andrew from the inside. Maybe he’s on a shoot and hasn’t seen it, Adam had supplied so helpfully but they both knew that the chances of that was slimmer than Jim.

When Andrew first met Steven, he immediately changed his mind on the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing. It sounds incredibly cheesy but it’s like a fog had been lifted and rays of sun came piercing through the walls he spent years putting up. The boy was sunny, passionate, bubbly, kind, friendly, and oh so beautiful. Still is. Andrew was caught so completely off his guard that even Adam immediately noticed, and that guy lives in his own little world.

If only Andrew wasn’t so shy and reserved. The entire first month that they worked together, Andrew said nothing to him outside of the occasional instructions on where to point the camera. Their entire relationship was professional and strictly business, despite Andrew’s numerous attempts at opening up. When Steven questioned his standoffish behavior one fine day, all Andrew could return was a seizure-like spluttering noise and some brain-dead mumbling. It was an embarrassing time for everyone involved. Adam often voiced his desire to have been elsewhere when that went down.

Yet somehow, Andrew managed to convince Steven that he doesn’t hate him, and convinced himself that Steven meant more to him than just a for-hire cameraman that they found on Craigslist. The latter was easy, because it was so true. The two had so easily became friends, even closer than he and Adam was. And on the deeper, darker end, Andrew was certain he has fallen for Steven. How could he not? The man would show up on Andrew’s doorstep with his favorite pizza when he made an offhand remark about being peckish. At midnight. The extent that Steven would go just to make Andrew happy was so great that… there are no words for it. Andrew couldn’t imagine life without Steven, it was undoubtedly the best time of his life.

Then it all came to a screeching halt when Steven broke the news that he would be moving to LA after receiving an offer from an agency. He was finally going to fulfill his dreams of becoming an actor. But it just had to happen just as Andrew had finally gathered up the nerves to confess his feelings to Steven. All those words he spent countless nights preparing fell off to the side as he pulled Steven in for a congratulatory hug. Everything went downhill from there. Even now, almost an entire year later, Andrew can still recall the very words he wanted to say.

He needs to get out of here, he needs some fresh air to clear his mind. Andrew picks up his phone and grabs a jacket off the side table that he’s certain belongs to Adam. Keys. Wallet. Socks. And slip into shoes. Ready to leave, he pulls open the door and immediately freezes. At the bottom of the steps is a human-like figure. The stranger looks up and… that’s not a stranger, at least not in the literal sense. Then again, these days, Steven had become so distant that he’s basically one foot into foreign territory.

Andrew’s throat tightens, he wasn’t expecting this and it’s clear from Steven’s expression that he wasn’t expecting Andrew to open the door when he did. The two men remain frozen for several beats too long, neither were sure of what to do. Steven’s the first to break the silence.

“H-heading out?” Steven asks shakily, as if he were freezing. Granted, it can be objectively considered cold but this is nothing for Boston. Then it hits Andrew that had Steven had probably came straight from LA, the difference in temperature is probably something he hadn’t immediately gotten used to.

“Yeah…” Andrew replies stupidly, uncertain on what exactly to say in a situation like this.

“I’ll come back some other time-” Steven starts turning away and Andrew’s heart seizes for a split second.

“Wait!” Andrew yells and Steven freezes mid-step like a scared animal. “Actually, I was hoping you could… come with? I’m just going out for a breather.” The fear on Steven’s face melts away into relief, his eyes are uncharacteristically reflective.

Andrew sprints down the steps so quickly that he couldn’t stop himself from lightly colliding into Steven, who pulls back hastily as if that slight bit of physical contact had burned his skin. The unspoken tension between them is growing thicker by the second… but Andrew knows one place that can fix this. If it doesn’t work, nothing else will.

“Little Joys?”

“That’d be nice.”

…

look at me and tell me there’s not a thingthat you see that’s pulling you in nowor maybe… there is

look at me and tell me you want thisone, two, three, leaning closer infinally… kiss me

…

Shane’s not talking to him. Ryan knew it was a bad idea from the very start. Sure, it got over a million views… but at what cost? This was so not worth it.

Ryan’s reading over the lyrics again, trying to find what could have possibly triggered such behavior in Shane. He even got Andrew, who helped write it, to look through. They both came up blank. But Ryan hasn’t stopped reading the words on his screen, trying desperately to understand what happened. This is so frustrating.

The front door slams, oh good, Shane’s home. Ryan hops off his bed and walks out to the hallway, looking to confront his friend, hoping that he’s ready to talk. But Ryan stops when his eyes land on Shane, he mentally backtracks but it’s too late for him to physically backtrack. Shane is storming down the hall, heading straight towards Ryan like a homing missile, he stops when he’s merely two steps away.

“Are you fucking with me?” Shane asks curtly, the look on his face a perfect marriage of anger and hurt. Ryan opens his mouth and leaves his jaw hanging, unsure if it’s a genuine question that he’s expected to answer. After a few more seconds of uneasy silence, Shane grunts, fierce. “Answer me, Ryan!”

“I-I… What are you talking about?” Ryan is stunned by the outrage he’s facing, he knows Shane is talking about the song but he doesn’t know what part exactly.

“THE SONG!!” Shane yells at the absolute top of his voice. The volume sends a shiver down Ryan’s spine. “Why are you fucking with me like this?!” The eye contact is bordering on lethal, and it lasted almost an entire minute before Shane breaks it and looks down. His entire body is shaking.

“I know I shouldn’t have pressured you into doing it, Ryan, and I’m really sorry, but… but-” It takes Ryan far too long to register what’s happening before his very eyes. Shane is breaking down, crying, choking on the tears he’s spilling. That’s what the shaking was. Ryan’s heart is breaking into pieces, his ribcage tightens as he forgets how to breathe. Then Shane delivers the final twist of the knife. “You know I still love you, why would you do this to me?”

The world goes quiet. There are no sounds apart from the rushing of blood in Ryan’s ears. Time stands still. The waves of emotion retreats, the winds stop. It’s the calm before the storm. Then it hits Ryan all at once like a freight train. He’s tripping over his thoughts… Shane still loved him? He didn’t trust his ears to have heard it correctly. When he finally recovers, he pushes his need to clarify.

“Y-you still love me?”

“Yes, I do and yet you…” Shane stops to steady his breathing, his chest shuddering as he does so. “You g-gave me hope and then immediately take it away. What kind of sick joke-”

“It’s not! I love you, I really do!” It’s Ryan’s turn to cry now, the years worth of bottled emotions come rushing out. “I didn’t want to break up with you but I just… I-” Shane cuts him off with a kiss. It’s desperate, it’s resolute, it’s familiar… Like listening to an old favorite song that you haven’t heard in years.

A sudden thought hits Ryan on the side of his head and he quickly pulls back. “Shit, what about your girlfriend?!”

“My wha- Irene?” Shane’s tone is incredulous, as if he cannot even grasp the concept that Ryan could possibly think that. “There’s nothing going on between us, never was… never will be.”

Ryan heaves a huge sigh of relief. Shane looks onto him with the warmest smile on his face, and the happiest look in his eyes. They lean in and kiss again, this time softer and more gentle. It’s an apology, it’s an affirmation, it’s an ‘I-miss-you’.

They have a lot to catch up on.

…

when did everything becomeoh so messybetween you and me

if we could turn time backwould you pick meover the city of dreams

…

A mere two blocks away from Andrew’s place, Little Joys Ice-Cream Parlor is one of he and Steven’s favorite hangouts. The amount of time they had spent there was staggering, they were on first-names basis with all the employees there.

When they step through the doors of the establishment, several heads turn to look, mostly the employees. There’s a mixture of smiles and nods as a form of greeting their regular customers. There are few patrons around, typical of a weekday afternoon. Andrew and Steven immediately head for the booth in the corner without so much as a second thought, it’s their usual spot.

Normally customers are supposed to go up and get their food themselves but as regulars, Andrew and Steven gets a little VIP privilege. One of the employees, Jennie, was wiping down a table earlier but seeing the duo take their seats, she happily skips over to their table.

“Hey! It’s been a while.” Jennie greets with a giggle, the soaked cleaning cloth in her right hand is dripping a puddle on the floor right next to her but she doesn’t seem to notice. “What would you boys like? The usual?”

Andrew’s not in the mood to think about exactly which flavors he wants, so he simply nods at her question. It seems that Steven’s the same way as he mirrors his action. Jennie strangely doesn’t notice that something is amiss with their behavior and accepts their orders and merrily makes her way towards the main counter.

They wait in silence for their orders to arrive, neither ready to speak. Normally they would be sitting so close that their shoulders touched, despite the fact that the booth can easily sit six people comfortably. But this isn’t normally, and right now there’s just enough space in between for Adam to comfortably third-wheel them.

But even at this distance, Andrew can still feel the tenseness radiating off Steven’s body. His own body is stiff, aching, and uncomfortable, despite the plush cushioning of the seats. He desperately wants to shuffle in closer, put his hand on Steven’s knee, lean his head on his shoulder, and make things okay again. Before he can do any of that, Steven breaks the silence.

“Are they-” His voice creaks and he forces a cough to clear his throat. Andrew watches as a million different emotions flash across Steven’s face, but he doesn’t recognize any of them. Steven rests his elbows on the table, hands clenched together. He presses his hands against his lips in a frown, sighing. Then finally he leans back and lets his arms fall at his sides, he doesn’t look at Andrew when he asks.

“The songs… are they about me?” A lump forms in Andrew’s throat but not before his heart found its way into his mouth. He wants to answer but his tongue is tied up, scared. What if this is it? What if Steven’s here to denounce their friendship? Andrew tries to reason, why would Steven fly all the way here just to tell Andrew that he never wants to see him ever again? That doesn’t make sense.

“Please tell me they’re about me. They have to be! I… I really like you and-” The urgent pleading tone that Steven has taken on forces Andrew to look at him. There are tears running down his cheeks and Andrew’s stomach drops, feeling guilty for inflicting this on his friend.

Of course, Steven feels that way about him, of course! Andrew wasn’t blind to it, so why was he so scared? He tries hard to push aside the dizzying feelings to try and confess, but his thoughts are jumbled and his mind is fuzzy. He just can’t find the right words for the moment. Unfortunately, Steven misconstrues his silence for something else entirely.

“Oh my god, of course they’re not. I’m so stupid, I flew all the way here on a stupid hunch. What was I thi-” Andrew brings a hand up to cup the side of Steven’s face, and Steven immediately shuts up. Pinky trailing Steven’s jaw, Andrew takes in a breath to prepare himself for what he’s about to do. When words don’t work, actions will. Steven’s eyes are wide with wonder and he opens his mouth to no doubt ask what’s going on, but Andrew cuts him off with a kiss.

The kiss is slow and tender, as if Steven is something fragile that Andrew’s holding between his lips. He had dreamt of this moment so many times but nothing can prepare him for the real thing. And even though the kiss lasted only seconds, when they break away, the tips of Andrew’s ears are searing hot. His breathing is shallow and his cheeks are warm.

Steven looks lost, like he’s still processing the last few seconds. Andrew can almost see the 'buffering’ spinner in his eyes. When he finally catches up, he’s smiling like the ball of sunshine that Andrew knows and loves. The serenity of the moment gets interrupted by Jennie’s untimely return with the ice-creams.

“Aww!” She just can’t help herself, can she? With her usual grace, she sets down their orders on the table. “Don’t mind me, you two lovebirds carry on.” She cheekily winks at them and saunters off.

Andrew shifts his eyes back to Steven and he’s in a shade of red that rivals a freshly-picked cherry tomato. The entire scene is just too much for Andrew and he just laughs, completely enamored by the man in front of him.

“You still haven’t answered me…” Steven pokes Andrew in the side with his finger. Andrew ignores him and proceeds to take a huge spoonful of his multiflavored desert. When Steven pokes him again, he simply raises an eyebrow and makes a noncommittal noise, earning him a third poke.

Conceding, Steven picks up his own spoon and scoops a little bit of each flavor from his bowl, mixing them up. Just as he is bringing the spoon to his mouth, he stops to take a look at Andrew’s bowl and makes a face, one that Andrew is all too familiar with.

“For the last time, Steven, red velvet is not simply adding food colouring!” Andrew mock-scolds, flipping Steven off. “Stop judging.”

Now they’re both laughing and everything in the world is right as rain, once again.

…

is this love?i don’t knowbut all i ever wanted is in front of me nowi’m stuckwhat do i do?i want to tell you that i love you but i don’t know how

i was stupid to let you goso crazily stupidi am crazy about you, y'knowso stupidly crazy

but i know better nowdon’t want us to be aparti just wanna sing it out loudto the tune of your heart!

Closing Notes:

This was supposed to be short. Yeah, didn’t happen… I have no self-control. Also, I’m realising I’m really into certain tropes.

#ST06 #standrew #standrew prompts #standrew fic #shyan #shyan fic #shyan prompts #ao3 fic

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ibroughtthisonmyselfpixels · 6 years ago

Text

Intermission 2 Replies

I don’t think I’m gonna be getting any more replies on the intermission, and there’s only so long i can leave this until i do, so here’s the reply-to-existing-replies batch now. but first:

@bountifulberries replied to your photoset “So because I have no restraint, I made a very smol tiny Sim called...”

I think a paid surrogate mother would be a very interesting contestant / sim in general!

It’d certainly put a new stamp on the 100bc, that’s for sure

@sevenleafsimblr replied to your photo

“FORMER BC ORGANISER FOUND DEAD IN HOME A once-prominent figure in the...”

��

he died before his prime

sevenleafsimblr replied to your photo “A sweet or agreeable succession or arrangement of sounds.”

it completely flew over my head during the Melody Reveal that "melody" is also a music term and im mad @ myself

Un Der Standable

@jackssims replied to your photoset “Deacon: “…spinning?” ”

It looks like she’s t-posing to asset her dominance

Lissa said by PM:

This is a little silly to mention but -- I think it's kind of cool how you're incorporating old stuff again? Like, between the Wilkersons and a tie to Charlie and stuff. I know that old stuff can be hard for you sometimes, so I Just Think It's Neat ^^

i said at the time that it’s more out of necessity some of it than anything else to flesh out the neighbourhood, but you know what? i change my answer. it’s not that the old stuff isn’t hard for me, it’s that the new stuff is just as hard. i want my being good back

@tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “But back then, when I didn’t have to hide… the Wilkersons and I - we...”

I am terrified of what comes next but I am actually so happy that she has a good support network

without that system in place who knows where she would be. somewhere you wouldn’t wanna read, i’ll bet

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “At first I liked Jase best, just because he was so quiet and strange...”

They must be very good friends. They survived using the blue shell on one another

Cid is a good dad and won’t ground Lauro for that. Now if he’d used that lightning on him, he might’ve thought about it - that fucking lightning bolt’s the fucking worst

jackssims replied to your photoset “¦it wasnâ€™t always good. Not those times. But that wasnâ€™t because of...”

Those blondes... �� (unless of course I’m reading too much into this, then I redact my eyes emoji, but I’ll wait and see)

That’s true; we never did get a real answer for that, did we?

tosimornottosim replied to the same:

B I t c h e s

Well, yes, that applies regardless

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Lynn: “You’ve got it riiiight here! BLEH!!” Melody: “U-under my eyes?...”

Lynn is such a good person..............................;;;;;;

Lynn makes you cry from all six of your eyes. strexgnome

jackssims replied to your photoset “And t- then there was the one that worried everyone… the - I got a,...”

��

tosimornottosim replied to the same:

:eyes:

sevenleafsimblr replied to the same:

uh oh.....

I will only say this: it’s fortunate that the girlfriend didn’t make everything totally and utterly worse for her

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Lavandar: *wide-eyed* “Y-you - you dated your own bully?!”...”

I don't trust you Blonde Scarlet and Viola

O KA y whether they’re who you think they are or not that description is fucking hilarious

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Estelle: “…Oh god, Melody. Are you okay?” Melody: *shaking* “Please…”...”

Don’t touch her you fucker. Don’t touch her

‘Limp’ is very specific and deliberate consistently-abused-child language, at least to me. If you don’t put up a fight, it doesn’t hurt as much.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Estelle: “…Melody? Melody, can you look at Mommy please?” Melody: “…”...”

Fuck Estelle

tosimornottosim replied to the same:

I want her to die

sevenleafsimblr replied to the same:

estelle can you be a good girl and get some sleep and not wake up

It isn’t wrong, but it is interesting that ‘can you be a good girl’ is what a lot of you replied to throughout this. is it because it’s the most convenient place, being at the end; because it feels weird commenting on the actual violence; or because the emotional manipulation is the straw that breaks the camel’s back?

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Lavandar: “Noooope! No no no no, no. It doesn’t work that way,...”

PREACH IT LAV IM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU LAV

As you well know, this is something I have to work hard to convince myself, hence the soapbox. (Can it be a soapbox if you have trouble holding the soapbox’s beliefs?) It doesn’t help that I do charity work at a bookstore, and Torey Hayden / Cathy Glass / other trauma-porn books come in on the regular - it’s hard to be confident in the legitimacy of how Mum’s affected me when stories that feature kids who’ve been utterly decimated and forgotten over the years are in my line of sight that often.

Incidentally, I hope I haven’t crossed the line to trauma-porn here. This is intended to be an explanation for part of Lorelei’s backstory and why she has a lot of the mannerisms she does (plus a few hints for down the road, but that first thing first and foremost) - obviously making you sad is a goal too, but not to an exploitative extent, you know?

@cafesimming replied to your photoset “Lorelei: “I… I’m sorry. I won’t say it again, I’m sor–”...”

i havent been replying but i just got s chance to read sll this and i love lorelei and i love lavandar and i love this story and im quite literally on the verge of tears reading all this rn and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa love

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

bountifulberries replied to your photoset “Lavandar: *shrinks back, curling up onto herself, breathing shakily* ...”

All of this is making me so sad but it’s so well done!! I literally didn’t wanna go to bed last night bc I wanted to keep waiting for updates to post

get some sleep Kasey. if you’re going back to school you need all the sleep you can get. i can be awake for you and get in trouble for it

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “I really am sorry, you know. Lavandar. That I’m p- that I’m putting...”

It wasn’t a lack of bravery. You were so brave

there’s two kinds of bravery: to confront, and to endure. Lyra has the confrontational bravery covered. Lorelei is the endurance.

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “He looked at my arm. He looked at me. H-he… looked at me, like Lyra...”

Zeus bless Jase. In all truthfulness

give him the happiest of marriages and the least of links to that box with the finger in it...

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “¦He didnâ€™t say a wordâ€¦ to me.â€ Jase:Â â€œâ€¦â€ Pal:Â â€œPoor fucking Melody....”

is. is he gonna make himself talk to help her. is. is he gonna do that. because if he does i'm fucking gonna cry

He!! Did that!!

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “But I’ll… even with everything… I’ll forever be grateful that he...”

god what a hero

the hero we need but we don’t deserve

jackssims replied to the same:

Good. This is good (I hope)

It was a mixed blessing

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “I didn’t put two and two together until Jase told me later… but Mom...”

You weren't bad. You weren't bad

Lorelei knows that. Melody does not.

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “¦what happened after that, Lorelei? Did sheâ€“?â€ â€œShe was held for a...”

oh colby...

I’m not sure where else to put this yet, but designing Estelle was almost as much - not necessarily fun, but it took about as much thought as designing Amelia did back in the day. I think she’s quite handsome, but it’s ruined by her looking almost perpetually sour/disgruntled. I even employed another Enid Blyton trick: her eyes are closer together compared to my other Sims, and a pale blue, much like Prudence from another St Clare’s book. Until they (Prudence’s) turned brown in a later scene in one of the few legitimate continuity errors I’ve seen from Enid but that’s neither here nor there

I’d also like to emphasise an actually salient point: if it wasn’t clear, Estelle isn’t mentally ill in any way that I know of. There may be neuroses there that never got diagnosed, but they're not the root of her behaviour even if there are. She’s reprehensible enough without chemical imbalances there to influence it.

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “We tried to be safe. She tried to… let us be a normal family. A happy...”

I understand rationally that Colby is a victim of abuse but /damn/ does he make my blood boil rn

I in turn understand why you’d be angry at him - he allowed a very volatile influence back into Lorelei’s life - but honestly I mostly feel pity for him. He’s a bit like, um... what’s a good comparison...? Charlie Swan feels like the closest analogue, though the circumstances are different there. He can try to lay down some rules and speak the truth of it, but when the largest female influence in the house is this dominant, this domineering, and cares more about what he can do for her than what he chooses to do for himself, what chance does he have?

It doesn’t help that being willing to please and put his own neck on the line to keep other people happy is kind of a core part of his personality - he’s the person from whom Lorelei inherited the Good trait (much like Amelia got Perfectionist from Maus), but his manifestation of Good leans more towards Doormat than Empathetic, if you see what I mean. It becomes especially clear if I reveal and then you consider he dropped out of college at twenty halfway through a tech degree specifically to marry Estelle so that she could have someone to keep her company at medical school. Self sabotage for the boosting of others.

(Estelle’s two years and a few months Colby’s senior, by the way)

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “I was a wreck at home, and a - even worse, at school. I kept my mouth...”

I wish there was a word for like, SHSL Mom. Because that's what Lynn is. She's like a Double Mom

maxi extreme ultra Mom

Vid incidentally got very upset at around the Jase Pal break-up post, for good reason: these people are just kids. this stuff is much too big for them, they didn’t deserve this.

@geezsims liked your photoset “¦to Bridgeport.â€ â€œGod. All by yourself? No one-?â€Â â€œThe journey, y-...”

Han. Han. I admire the like, Han, but I feel like you’ve missed, like, nine tenths of the story here

tosimornottosim replied to the same:

See Colby /this/ is how you Dad

by dying your hair, or sending your kid to a safe place? i’m not sure the intended message here

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “¦Lorelei Kessler.”

My hero

I need a Lorelei; I’m holding out for a Lorelei til the end of the etc

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Lorelei: “I trust you, Lavandar. I trust you. I trust you. N- no...”

Lavender: *a gentleman's guide to love and murder playing* I've decided to marry you! I've decided to marry you!

Blessed Image

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “Lorelei: “Lyra?! Uh- um -” *clambers up* “You’re - you’re back?” ...”

Man I’m happy you’re going to be here, Ly, but what a buzzkill We almost had a confession!

Like I said in the end credits, we almost had a lot of things ;)

tosimornottosim replied to your photoset “¦ *crunch* *click* *crunch*Â â€¦ Lyra:Â â€œâ€¦okay, and - open.â€ â€“ End of...”

Now you’re the cockblock, Dub

bountifulberries replied to the same:

RUDE

jackssims replied to your photoset “¦ *crunch* *click* *crunch*Â â€¦ Lyra:Â â€œâ€¦okay, and - open.â€ â€“ End of...”

Ending it with a tease, eh?

Okay y’all I understand but like y’all, y’all. y’all. this part of SoS is ultimately Lorelei’s story. If I’d ended it with the full Lyra reveal, it would become Lyra’s story again too much, and a lot of the impact of what Lor’s been talking about would’ve been lost. I felt like I was pushing it as it is

jackssims replied to your post “Intermission 2: Melody End Credits”

This interlude-update was amazing. It made me feel stuff like never before, and I was always refreshing my dash for it. Great job!

holy hell thank!!!! I’ll try to maintain that quality, or at least a small fraction of it, into the rest of the project going forward!

#bountifulberries #toxoplasmajuice #harmoniouspixels #berriesandbrownsugar #tosimornottosim #autistichatkid #geezsims #sos mm bc

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koeyohte · 3 years ago

Text

Credence pt 6

The next morning, I wake and brush a tangle of hair from my face. It’s Saturday and it’s the first day in awhile that I don’t have anything planned. I’ve finished all my homework and Sun’s busy with her girlfriends, so I’m on my own. It’s nice to have a day to do nothing.

I sit up when I remember the message I sent Castor last night. Nervously, I turn my phone over and see a few notifications from some other apps and that Sun’s sent me her usual early morning shower thoughts. I open the app to read them and see that Castor did reply last night.

I will. Again, I appreciate your patience. You don’t know how much. I’m not good with speaking in person, as you undoubtedly know, but I want you to know that your efforts mean something to me. I don’t have many close friends. I’d like to know you but I also have to be conscientious of myself. You know the kind of place I come from, I don’t want to subject you to any of that, ever. Sorry if this is long. I know it’s late so I hope I’m not keeping you up.

I feel guilty that I didn’t see this last night, but I type a hurried reply.

Hey, sorry! I fell asleep TT Thank you for telling me - I think you have a lot of self awareness and patience. I know I don’t know you well but if you’ll let me, I’d like to.

It’s a lot more straightforward than the first several texts I’ve composed and deleted. I hit send and leave my phone there before heading to the shower.

Once I’m out and brushing my teeth, I pick up my phone to see that Castor has responded already. With my toothbrush in my mouth, I read it.

I’d like that, too.

I don’t know what to say. I feel immense heat in my face even without him being here and I nervously send him a smiling emoji.

He doesn’t get back to me for the rest of the day. I spend it in the kitchen, making some lemon poppy seed muffins. I make enough to take to Sun and since they’re my mom’s favorites, I leave her half a batch. I place a few into a bag and plan to bring them to class. I don’t know if Castor likes lemon poppy seed muffins, but I hope he’ll take them anyway. I have a feeling he’s not used to gestures of kindness, and I hope he’ll let me change that.

I don’t see him again until our next class on Tuesday. I’m in the hallway first and, right on time, he enters the atrium twenty minutes before class. He comes to stand next to me, the last few steps a weird, shy shuffle.

“Hey.”

“Hi. I brought you something.” I pull the four muffins in their bag from my backpack and press them into his hands before he can protest. I haven’t seen or spoke to him since suggesting he allow us to get to know each other better. His face reddens and he stares down at the bag like I’ve presented him with a rare artifact.

“I… did you make these?”

“M-hmm.”

When he looks up at me, there’s a tightness to his features. His expression reminds me of when he started crying in my car.

“Thank you,” he finally says, looking down at the muffins again. He stands still, like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“You want to stick them in your bag for now?”

“Oh - yeah.” He shakes himself and kneels so he can tuck them in behind his folders. I hear his knees crack and then I remember what he’d told me at the park.

“I would have helped you!” I kneel next to him, tugging my dress down. He doesn’t look up.

“It’s okay.”

“You said your knees hurt.”

“...Yeah.”

We both stand and I cross my arms at him.

“You’re allowed to ask for help, you know.” I’m trying to tease him but he looks away as if in shame.

“Don’t want to ask you to do simple things that I should be able to.”

“That’s not the point,” I protest, inching closer. “You’re hurting yourself for no reason.”

He frowns but doesn’t argue. His eyes dance between mine and he blinks slowly. I see him swallow once before he speaks.

“I’ll try.”

I have to smile at that small step towards asking for help. I hate seeing him in discomfort or pain and even though he isn’t showing it on his face, I can tell by the way he gingerly shifts his weight often that his knees are hurting him.

“So, how’ve you been?” I ask, breaking the silence as I lean against the wall. He shrugs.

“Fine.” When I don’t say anything, he glances up and then continues. “I take RC to the airport tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll be back in time for class on Thursday.” He looks down at the floor again. “I asked the professor to allow me the absence earlier, before the semester started. Depends on if my car’ll make it and if I can make the drive up and back in one day.”

I must be frowning pretty severely because he looks up at me and chuckles softly.

“Guess you’re thinking I shouldn’t try it either?”

“No,” I say as if it were obvious. “You need time to sleep! You need to rest. You can’t possibly do all that on your own and make it back safe.”

He looks surprised by my concern. “I have to try,” he argues with a shrug.

“You can miss a day of class.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“I’ll take notes for you.”

His mouth opens but then he just quirks a brow at me. “Have you seen your handwriting?”

I feign offense. “Yeah, well….”

“Yeah well what?” he smirks. “Besides, it’s not the notes I’m worried about. I just don’t want to get used to calling off or falling slack when I think I need a break. Real world doesn’t work like that.”

“It should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.”

I hear myself sigh in frustration with him. I don’t agree with his idea to drive a two-day trip in one, but I realize I have little power here. I only just barely know him and it’s certainly not enough to ask him to rethink his plans. Even with Sun, I know my boundaries just barely cross that line.

“Maybe you should take someone else with you. Another driver.”

Castor shakes his head. “Jonah’s working to make the last of his funds he needs before I take him a few weeks from now. I don’t have anyone else.”

I duck my head and look at him in disbelief. He looks me up and down in a gesture of uncertainty.

“Wh - I couldn’t….” He shakes his head at me. “No, no, it’s too much to ask -”

“You’re my friend,” I interrupt, frustrated with his lack of self care. “I can help you. If you want,” I add, remembering that this is his family business.

Other students are starting to join us in the hall now. It’s getting busier and harder to concentrate on changing his mind. Castor sighs, almost in defeat and looks down at the floor between us.

“I feel like this is asking too much of you.”

“Then who is worthy of being asked to help you with this?”

“I….” He looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

I move a little closer and his head jerks down to look at me. This is the closest I’ve been, other than when he ran into me at the grocery store. I can see texture in his skin and a subtle shadow around his jaw. The yellow in his eyes is bright and captivating. There’s a sweet, herbal scent coming from his clothes.

“I can help. I don’t want you to get hurt. What if you get tired and drive off the road, or into traffic?”

He’s looking at me with worried creases deepening over his face.

“I understand this is your business,” I add, “and if I’m overstepping then I apologize. But I… I want you to come back.”

There. I’ve said it.

The professor opens the door behind us and her students file out. Castor is still staring down at me and I can’t decipher his expression. I hope that what I’ve said matters to him. I bend to pick up my bag and when I stand, I’m extremely surprised when I feel his hand on my arm.

“You’d really do this for me?”

“‘Course,” I reply through a shy smile. Surely he must know by now that there’s more than a platonic draw between us - at least, I hope he does.

Class begins with a brief quiz. Thanks to Castor’s memorization tactics, I feel much more confident in my answers than I usually do. The rest of class is an open discussion on the quiz itself, and then the professor explains her plans for us before the holidays arrive.

The semester is flying by much faster than I’d realized.

I walk with Castor back down the hallway and out to the parking lot. I drove myself again today, so I tell him I don’t have to wait, but that I will if he would like it.

“If you’re sure about going with me - us,” Castor explains nervously, “I’m planning to leave early tomorrow. Like… four in the morning early.”

The shock must show on my face because he grimaces. I recover quickly and straighten myself up.

“I’m sure. I want to help. If your brother doesn’t mind….”

Castor shakes his head. “No, he won’t care one way or the other. He just needs to get out. I’ll tell him you’re coming to help with the drive. That’s all he needs to know.”

I nod, but then I wonder… what else would he need to know? What else is there to know?

“Should I come there -?”

“No. No, I, uhh… can pick you up from somewhere.”

“You sure? I don’t mind, I can have my mom drop me off -”

“No.” His tone is stern and he’s looking much more serious now. I realize that he’s desperate to keep me away from there, so I just nod. Whatever he’s worried I’ll see must be truly terrible.

“I live just up that way. Would you want to come by and pick me up from the house?” I point up the road from the college. Castor nods once, somewhat sharply as if he’s irritated. “I’m sorry if it’s out of your way… I was trying to help -”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t have you coming around there.” Castor sighs loudly and rubs his forehead before passing his hand over his face. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Text me your address?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll remind you in a bit if I don’t get it. Can’t have you falling asleep before replying, you know?”

“Ha-ha,” I reply sarcastically. “I really didn’t mean to make you wait, though… so… sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he laughs softly. The fine lines around his eyes crease. “I just worried I’d said something I shouldn’t have.”

I look guiltily up at him. “You were worried?”

“I - well, yes, a bit. You usually reply so fast. After an hour I thought maybe I’d said something wrong or too much.” He tilts his head down at me and lowers his voice. “I don’t have a lot of contacts. I don’t have friends, really, not in the same way most would assume. I….” He looks away. “I’ve never done this before.”

My chance has presented itself.

“Done what before?” I ask gently. He swallows audibly and then looks back to me.

“Had someone… important. Other than my brothers.” He looks almost ill, like he’s said something sickening. He maintains eye contact with me through it anyways, and I realize that it’s taking all of his self control to not look or hide away.

“I haven’t very much either,” I decide to admit. It’s true - Sun I met online and our closeness grew naturally via text on a screen. She’s the only friend I know well who I can see in person. Others are various online personas, but no one even comes close to the bond I have with Sun.

Castor’s looking at me like he doesn’t believe me. I see his eyes dart toward the silver ring I keep on my finger.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell him and place my hand lightly over his arm. He doesn’t move away. “We’re going to do this. You’re going to get your brother to a new, better and safe place. And then when it comes time to do it again, I’ll be here if you need me.”

Castor’s brows lower and he looks taken aback again.

“You’re so kind to me… why?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. I take my hand from his arm and fold it over my own. “What do you mean? You’re… my friend, you’re important to me. I don’t have many friends, either, and I don’t make connections with people - like you said about yourself.” I’m talking fast, trying to get the words out before I forget what I want to say. “And I like spending time with you.” I pause for a breath and Castor’s looking guiltier by the second. “I care about you. I wasn’t just saying that. I don’t know what else to call this,” I gesture helplessly between us, “but I like how this feels. I want to help you. I’m not asking for anything in return.”

Out of breath, I pause again and breathe deeply. I’m physically drained and mentally tired. Emotionally, I’m ready to charge forward through anything. It’s an ebbing and irritating flow of energies.

Castor ducks his head, hiding behind his bangs.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“Like what?”

He looks back up. “What you just said. That you really care… for some reason. You said there’s something here that feels right.”

“...I did.”

He seems to realize words won’t work here. He looks away again and nods once.

“Okay.” He looks back up to meet my gaze. “I suppose we have the drive back after tomorrow to figure it out, don’t we?”

I smile sympathetically.

He’s nodding again, looking more relaxed. “I do have… some questions. Nothing scary,” he adds when I know my worry shows on my face, “it’s just… I’ve never done this.”

“I know. You told me,” I remind him softly. His lips twitch.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bright and early.”

He looks thoughtfully just over my head. “Well, it’ll still be dark out for a few hours.”

“Ah, yes - true.”

“You need your eyes checked. Maybe I shouldn’t let you drive.”

“Pssh. Have you seen my handwriting? If I can read that, my eyesight is just fine.”

Castor rolls his eyes but his features have softened significantly. He doesn’t say anything more but he stays at the edge of the curb as I walk away. I glance behind me once I’ve crossed the drive and he’s still there. His hand is rubbing the strap of his backpack but he’s looking at me until I get past the first row of cars. By the time I reach mine and get in, he’s turned around and headed back inside.

#credence pt 6 #we are getting to the good stuff huehuehue

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chcreativechristiancollective · 7 years ago

Photo

//Continued//

There’s something to be said for the therapeutic attributes of a rain storm. The soothing drum of the steady drops as they fell on the gray metal roof covering her front porch was enough to all but wipe away the stress that had been weighing on Abby’s mind since last week. Thankfully, the holiday weekend passed without major incident aside from an annoying sunburn. She realized there were some internal wounds still gaping wide open that needed mending, but there were distinct indicators of progress. She felt something she hadn’t felt in more than a decade, as she had previously conceded to the comfort of a hardened heart as the norm.

For the past year there has been a force diligently at work beneath the surface of her reinforced protective armor. A force she couldn’t explain or understand. All she knew was that there was something blossoming inside of the place that, not long ago, she considered a barren wasteland. There was life in the desert, and new streams were bursting forth every day. Dare she say it? Could she possibly admit it to herself without being consumed by the fear that it would flee from her? Abby gripped her warm coffee cup between her trembling hands, letting her gaze drift into the shaded sky. She lifted her chin and let her eyelids fall shut in a nod of acknowledgement to her source. Yes, she was indeed experiencing hope in her life again. Hope. The concept had become foreign to her, but she was eager to become reacquainted with it, as she walked this path she knew with clear certainty God laid out for her.

Just as Abby sank back into the red overstuffed cushion of her favorite front porch chair to ponder how God was going to help her sort through the impending storm she saw brewing on the horizon of her life, the literal storm that was hovering above her house unleashed it’s fury into the atmosphere. A bright flash of light followed by the deafening roar of thunder brought Abby nervously to her feet, almost tripping as she feverishly scurried toward the front door. As much as she loved a good southern summer storm, she knew better than to hang around outside when these bad-boys intensified. No sooner than she turned the knob to open the old wooden door to her house was she being bombarded by nervously panting fur balls eager to be sure she was ok, and to find a little security of their own at her side. If animals suffered from anxiety disorders, her 4 dogs certainly fit the bill. Particularly during a thunderstorm.

“It’s ok guys. It’s fine. Just a little thunderstorm”, Abby recited calmly to her pups while she made her way into the kitchen. Reaching across the counter, she grabbed one of the fresh brownies she made for the volunteers working at the shelter that day. Her goal was to get them delivered by 9, but those double chocolate chunk, ewy-gewy-in-the-middle treats were hard to resist. Devouring half of the brownie in one bite, Abby thought to herself, “I made need to go ahead and make another batch.” She savored the sweet warmth of the first bite, and then stuffed the remainder into her mouth as poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. Leaning back on the counter and staring down at her dogs that were all sitting in a row staring up at her, she smiled. The adoption contract says that she rescued them. But she knew God sent her to them to be rescued herself. Indeed, when a person needs to have their heart softened, there is no better place to start than with the trusting companionship of a loving dog. Another loud crack of thunder and the flickering of the lights interrupted her thoughts. Her cell phone began buzzing with message notifications.

- Is it raining bad at your house? Did the lightening make your power go out? Just let me know you are alright. It’s pouring here and the radar looks bad.

-- I’m fine mom. It’s raining pretty hard, but we still have power. Don’t worry, ok? I love you.

The first time she ever received a text from her mom it was difficult to even decipher. Electronics and her mom were never a very pleasant combination, and typically required lots of work on Abby’s behalf to undo whatever her mom had somehow managed to do. Lydia Thompson may be technologically challenged, but she had mastered the use of emojis. It wasn’t uncommon for Abby to get text from her mom throughout the day with nothing more than kissy faces and heart eyes, since those were her mom’s favorite forms of text expression. The woman was silly and worried entirely too much, but she had the kindest heart a person could have. Abby was also quite sure her mom was the strongest person she had ever known.

Another brilliant flash of lightening and thunderous boom from the storm rattled the windows behind her. When she felt the vibration of the buzzing phone in her hand, she expected to see her mom’s name on the caller ID. So when the screen lit up with BH, Abby’s heart skipped a beat. BH - Belle House. It was the women’s shelter she opened just months before, and calls from this number only came with bad news.

“Hey Karen, what’s going on?”

“Abby, I hate to bother you. I know you are supposed to be relaxing today, but the storm has knocked the power out and the emergency generator isn’t coming on. Our whole grid is down out here.”

“I’m on my way.” Abby slipped her phone into her back pocket and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. “I’ll be back soon”, she reassured her dogs as she slipped out into the downpour. Her jeep roared down the driveway and onto the black asphalt of the narrow two lane highway that lead to town. “Call Kevin”, she commanded into her hands-free stereo.

“Hey Abby. How’s it going?”, he answered after the first ring.

“Not so good. The storm knocked out the power at Belle House and the backup generator isn’t coming on. I’m heading out there now, but I’ll need you to locate someone to help just in case I can’t get it going, and call the power company to see if they have a time frame on getting things going again, please.”

“I got it covered. Let me know what it looks like when you get there. And Abby, be careful, ok?”

“You’ve been hanging around my mother too long, Kevin. Stop worrying. I will be fine.” Abby hit the button on her steering wheel to end the call.

Kevin loved her mom in a way that wasn’t yet reciprocated, but he was ok with that. It had been almost 2 years since Abby’s father passed away, but her mom wouldn’t agree to date anyone. Not yet. To her, Kevin was her best friend. To him, it was so much more. But he adored and respected her, and would be willing to wait as long as he had to, even if it meant they would never be more than just friends.

Abby came back to help her mom with the store until they could sell it. After the funeral, Lydia announced to Abby and the family that she would be putting the store on the market and retiring once it sold. She just didn’t see how she could continue working there without him, building a dream that was theirs to share. So Abby returned to Virginia a few days later, packed some things, and took a leave of absence from her job as a marketing analyst. She left her comfortable townhouse in the historic district of Richmond, and returned to the place she had grown up to help mom sell the hardware store she spent so much time in as a child. She had plenty of money in savings, and her boss reassured her that she would have a position waiting for her when she was ready to return. The original plan of staying thirty days soon extended itself to ninety, and by the time six months had come and gone, Abby knew this move was a little more permanent. She fixed up the tiny farmhouse that her grandmother used to live in on her parent’s property, and made herself at home.

Small towns are both inviting and excluding, depending on who you interact with. Abby had her share of both experiences, and learned very quickly that the past had not faded from view. Many of her childhood friends were happy she was back, but she was also very cautious to keep a safe distance from those that were not quite thrilled at seeing her here again. The eighteen-year-old outspoken champion-of-all-that-is-right Abbigail Baker had managed to leave the little town in an uproar with her very public campaign against the county sheriff during election season all those years ago.

Everyone knew it was the Sheriff’s nephew and his group of misfit friends that robbed and vandalized her father’s store. They had been heard arrogantly bragging about getting away with it around town, so when Tommy Barns drove up to the graduation party at Dawson’s field on a brand new shiny red 4-wheeler that was surely bought with money stolen from her parents, Abby came unglued. She giggled at the memory of how frightened he was when she came running after him with a baseball bat clenched tightly in her fists. He sped off before she was able to get within 20 feet of him, and she was slapped with a protective order preventing her from being within 200 yards of him the next day. Nothing ever happened to Tommy or his friends. No charges were ever brought against them, and her parents had to deal with the damages on their own. The young idealistic Abby couldn’t cope with that. She decided then and there that she hated this place, and would leave it all behind when the first opportunity presented itself. That opportunity came the next fall when she was contacted by a charismatic man in uniform from the local Air Force recruiting office, but not before she waged an all-out war to have Sheriff Barns defeated in the local elections. He was re-elected, and her parents paid the price for her honorable yet childish antics as she became known as “crazy Abby” in all of the town gossip circles. With a heart fill of frustration and regret, she stuffed her little suitcase with everything she could fit in it, and drove away from Baker Ranch and the only life she had ever known.

Withdrawing from her trip down memory lane, Abby redirected her attention to the small gravel path ahead of her. She took a quick glance around her to be sure no one was watching, and she turned carefully into the long drive leading back to Belle House. Pressing the call button on her steering wheel she commanded her Jeep to ,”Call Karen”.

“Abby?”

“I’m on the path now. Since the cameras and gate sensors are down, I’ll have to unlock the gate with the key. Stay on the phone until I have the gate locked behind me, and then watch from the window until you know I’m alone. If anything happens, call Kevin.”

“Watch yourself, kiddo. Get in here quick.”

Security was something taken very seriously at Belle House, and the transition into and out of the property was the most critical. Abby whispered, “God, keep them safe for me please.” God and Abby both knew that she would do whatever it took to keep the women and children there safe from harm, and she knew He always had her back. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second and thought about Isabelle and Emily, then rushed out into the torrential downpour. She finally got through the towering steel gate and locked it securely behind her. The oversized all-terrain tires on her Jeep roared through the deepening puddles and mud holes that riddled the remainder of the path. When she pulled into view of the old wooden house, she could see Karen watching intently through the bottom floor window. Abby shot a thumbs-up through the windshield, and let herself relax a little when Karen returned the favor.

“Thanks, Father.”

She talked to God like He was her business partner and her best friend, because that is what He was to her. Still drenched, she stepped back out into the pouring rain and ran toward the house that embodied her new life. This is what she had been created for. This house and all that it stood for was the passion that had been etched deep into the fabric of her heart.

To be Continued....

#writing #my writing #christian writers creative writing

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jobean12-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Top Shelf: Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,965

Summary: You and Bucky continue getting to know each other and every day you fall a little harder...

Author’s Note: Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Happy to see you’re enjoying it! It’s a sloooowwww burn but I promise things will move along soon. There is a bunch of texting between the reader and Bucky in this chapter so I put those in italics. I tend to use a ton of emojis when I text so it happened in the story as well haha :) Thank you for reading! Much love❤❤❤

Warnings: fluffy softness, small amount of angst, light flirting, but mostly the fluffy sweet stuff! :)

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

You’re still smiling as you finish folding the laundry, your thoughts never far from Bucky and his soft smile. The ding of your phone pulls you from your latest daydream, your smile only widening when you read the text, ‘you know what would make this tea even better…. A COOKIE.’ Bucky’s text is followed by a picture of him holding up his mug, complete with a ridiculously cute disgruntled face.

‘O m g, you are so dramatic! Don’t you have any other cookies?’ You send your reply along with a kissy face emoji to ensure he knows your tone is playful. His answer is almost instant, “I don’t….and someone ATE ALL THE COOKIES I HAD.’ He promptly sends a third text with two kissy faces, clearly playing along.

Curling up on the couch and giggling like a teenager you continue to tease each other over text, easily falling into a conversation about food and your love for baking. When you finally look up from your phone you realize it’s been almost two hours and the sun has set. Your apartment is dark other than the small light in the kitchen. ‘As much as I would love to talk to you all night, I have to go shower and get my stuff ready for the work week 😊.’

Bucky’s response comes a little slower this time, ‘good thinking, that went fast 🙂 and I wish we could talk all night too.’ Your heart does a little flip at his last text and your mind is foggy as you try to come up with a good response. He beats you to it. ‘Enjoy your shower and sweet dreams 😍. Feeling your cheeks heat you quickly reply, ‘thanks, you too, goodnight 😘’.

Putting down your phone you practically float into the bathroom, twirling around like Cinderella after the ball. It’s only when you do one last twirl, this time into the doorframe, that you effectively break yourself out of the spell. You let out a string of curses, rubbing your shoulder but thinking with a smile, I can’t wait to tell Bucky about this.

Monday morning hits you hard, thoughts of Bucky keeping you awake for too long and your alarm going off way too early. The minute your eyes open you want to grab your phone to text him but when you go to do so you find he once again beat you to it, ‘morning y/n, hope you have a great day.’ The smile you’re wearing for the rest of the morning is borderline obnoxious, but you could care less as you two continue to text throughout the workday.

You notice that he’s much less shy over text. His use of emoji’s and sweet endearments makes it easy to flirt. The week goes by surprisingly quickly. You talk to Bucky every day, getting to know each other more and more. It isn’t until Thursday rolls around that you get the idea to bake him some of your awesome chocolate chip cookies. It’s also a perfect excuse to stop by the bookshop Friday after work.

After rushing home to wash up and change you pack a big tin of the cookies and head out. The day is beautiful and warm, and you can’t help your smile as you walk to the bookshop. Peeking through the large front windows you see Bucky behind the counter cashing out a customer. His chocolate brown hair falls in front of his face and your fingers itch to tuck it back behind his ear.

He looks up just at that moment, locking eyes with you as you stare. Giving you a sideways smirk, he says goodbye to the customer and walks around the counter as you enter the shop. Before you have a chance to think about how to greet him, he wraps his arms around you and gives you a big squeeze, pulling away to place a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Momentarily stunned you stand there with your mouth slightly agape, trying to find the strength to speak. “Are those cookies?!?” Bucky cheers, grabbing the tin and your hand as he drags you back toward the reading nook. “They are! I made my famous chocolate chip cookies I was telling you about. I made you a whole batch, so you know, you have some for tea and coffee,” you finish with a smirk.

He turns to you with a huge grin, “thank you, I can’t wait to taste them.” Those last words come out in a deeper tone, his eyes darting to your lips as he watches you intently. Clearing his throat, he quickly adds, “want me to make some tea?” You give him a nod, smiling as you watch him walk away, the blush he was trying to hide giving him away all too easily.

You watch as he takes the first bite, his eyes closing as he makes approving sounds. “Wow, y/n. Listen, don’t tell Sarah but these are the best chocolate chip cookies ever. It’s a good thing you made me so many.” He pops the last bite into his mouth, reaching into the tin to grab another, “want a bite?” “I may or may not have eaten a couple for breakfast this morning but one more won’t hurt.” Before you can reach to grab your own, he lifts one to your lips, “here.”

Taking a bite and chewing slowly, you try to keep your composure, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his lap and kiss him. “You have a little something here,” he says, reaching up to brush his thumb over the corner of your mouth. “Again!? Really? It seems I can’t eat cookies without making a mess when you’re around,” you laugh, dipping your head to try and hide your own blush. “Actually, no. You didn’t. Your lips just look so soft and I…”

The sound of the bell over the door and someone frantically yelling for Bucky has you both jumping up and running to the front. A tall blonde with wide blue eyes yells, “Buck, there you are. Listen, I….” he turns to you, “oh hey, sorry to bust in like this, I’m Steve,” he says holding out his hand. Bucky finally speaks, “Steve, this is y/n.” Steve’s whole face lights up and he pulls you into a hug, “y/n! I’ve been hearing about you all week, so nice to meet you.”

With a wide smile you hug Steve back, “nice to meet you too Steve! Bucky shared some of your moms amazing cookies with me the other day, which I’m sure he told you about…” You give Bucky a look, knowing full well he told Steve you ate all the cookies. “Well yea, he may have mentioned that you ate all of them,” he chuckles.

“Good thing I made more; they aren’t your moms’ recipe, but Bucky seems to like them.” Your eyes catch Bucky’s and you give him a sly grin, “in fact, Bucky said they…” Bucky cuts you off before you can finish the sentence, “Steve, why did you come in here yelling for me, what’s up?” Steve gives you a lopsided grin, but it turns to a frown as he looks at Bucky.

“It’s grandma, she fell and she’s at the hospital. She’s ok! So, stay calm but I knew you would want to get over there asap.” Bucky moves with determined speed to grab his belongings, “what!?! What happened, are you sure she’s ok? Steve runs a hand through his hair, “she’s ok, Buck, I promise, but she in pain. I didn’t get a ton of info; I just came here first.”

Bucky turns to you, his eyes wide with fear, “I’m so sorry y/n, I have to go. I promise I’ll text you as soon as I can.” Steve gives you one last smile before heading to the door, “I’m sorry we have to run off like this but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.” Bucky runs over and pulls you in for a tight hug. “Everything will be ok, Bucky,” you whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

You head out in front of Steve as Bucky shuts the lights and puts the “closed for emergency” sign on the door. With one more wave you watch as the two of them jog down the street to hail a cab, hoping more than anything that his grandma is ok.

The rest of the afternoon drags as you wait for any word from Bucky, your stomach in knots. It’s not until you sit down with your takeout that you get a text from him. ‘Hey doll, so grandma is ok. She fell going up the steps to her apartment building and hit her knee and hand hard. Nothing is broken, thankfully but she’s pretty banged up, so they just want to keep her overnight to monitor her.’

You let out a loud sigh, typing your reply quickly, ‘oh thank goodness she’s ok, I’m so happy to hear it isn’t too bad. Please tell her hello for me and I hope she feels better.’ He answers right away, ‘thanks, me too, sorry to run out on you like that, talk about bad timing 😉. And she says, thank you, she’ll be home in no time and ready to cook us dinner.’

You’re still reeling from his ‘bad timing’ comment, hoping above all hope that you aren’t reading too much into this and he likes you as much as you like him. ‘Tell me about it! And really, it’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m just so glad she’s ok and dinner sounds amazing!’ He sends you back a single heart, sending your own into a frenzy. ‘Have a good night and text me if you need anything, I’ll check in tomorrow 💕.’

‘Thanks doll 😘.’ You put your phone down and try to finish your dinner but find it difficult with the butterflies in your stomach. Picking up your phone again you dial your best friend, hoping some girl talk will help. You spend the next hour on the phone with Nat, telling her all about Bucky in between squeals and giggles.

Saturday morning you wake to a text from Bucky, ‘morning beautiful, grandma had a great night and is coming home soon! Also, I was wondering what you were doing for lunch today, I would love to take you out.’ Flying out of bed you call Nat, talking a mile a minute as you fill her in. “I mean, we have our girl’s day so I have to tell him no, but we can just reschedule,” you squeal into the phone as you pace your apartment.

After solidifying your plans with Nat, you text Bucky back, ‘that’s the best news, I’m so happy! I would love to go to lunch with you, but I have plans with my best friend for the day, can I take a rain check?’ You try not to freak out while you wait, worried he is going to back off.

‘That sounds fun and I completely understand, what about tomorrow? We can hang at the bookstore before closing then go to dinner from there if you want.’ Doing a little dance, you type back, ‘sounds perfect, can’t wait! 😍.’ His text bubbles pop up right away, ‘me either, I’m gonna get back to the hospital to get grandma and get her home but I’ll text you later ❤.’

You spend the rest of the day riding your high, your excitement over your day with Nat and date with Bucky keeping you energized. “So, there is this bar that recently opened on the lower East side, want to go tonight? We can go shopping, buy new outfits and have some fun!” Smiling at her through your mouthful of food you give her a high five, “yesssss!”

Once you’re dressed and ready to go you text Nat a picture, ‘all set, I’ll grab a cab and head to you.’ Her reply makes you laugh out loud, ‘too bad you aren’t seeing Bucky tonight, you look HOT🔥 .’ You consider sending Bucky the picture but before you can make a decision another text from Nat comes through, ‘do not send that picture to Bucky unless you want to torture his life 😉 😇😏.’

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