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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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deancas highschool au, 1.8k.

dean's pretty sure it all comes down to being sam's fault.

kid had walked into their last scooby doo marathon without warning at eleven friggin' pm, startling both cas and him (because they watch scooby doo like it's meant to be watched — with all their concentration, goddammit) and consequently causing dean to knock over the bowl of popcorn and get its contents all over (and some inside) the couch.

fast forward from there to the next time dean asked mary if cas could sleep over, and her immediate condition being that they conduct the grand bingewatch (a necessary element of the dean-cas sleepovers) in dean's room instead of the living room, as she could not possibly handle finding more popcorn under the cushions of the damn sofa than she'd already been fishing for, the last two weeks.

so there.

it is absolutely and indisputably sam's fault that dean is right now half-propped up in bed next to his best friend, with a laptop on his lap and fellowship of the ring playing on it, unable to think about anything except the way their arms press against each other, knees brush, and cas's head ends up looming too close to dean's shoulder to not be resting on it.

oh, and how good cas looks in the almost-dark, lit by whatever's happening — dean knows exactly what's happening — on the screen.

just because.

it's past two — which translates to way too late for a gay awakening o'clock — but dean's pretty sure if his heart keeps beating at this rate till morning, he's going to wake up in an ambulance.

this has never happened before. being this conscious of wherever they're touching, this excited about it, or this intent on stealing glances when he's sure he won't be caught. (okay, maybe that one's happened before but it's beside the point.) put together, it is alien and disconcerting.

and dean's not an idiot. he knows — he thinks he knows what's happening. and he knows it's not supposed to feel like a switch flipping because these things — and that's about all of the clarity he can afford — happen over time. and yet it's like he's walked headfirst into a wall on this weird, weird night.

the only thing he knows for sure is that he's never felt this way before. not towards cas, not towards anyone.

well, there's also never been an anyone (else).

but screw semantics — dean's terrified.

and it's entirely sam's fault, obviously, which is why the next time dean sees the little bastard, he's going to —

"dean."

it's cas, interrupting his very subtle, manageable breakdown in his endearingly familiar why-aren't-you-already-paying-attention-to-me voice.

dean hits pause, pressing the spacebar and turning to face his cas-shaped dilemma in the eye. "what, you sleepy already?"

"of course not." cas's tone is haughty, like one of somebody who hasn't been the first one asleep in a single sleepover in the past. dean takes the blow with grace, because he friggin' deserves that. he's been ashamed of himself every, single, morning-after. "i was just wondering if the movie," cas tilts his head towards the screen. "isn't disturbing your parents or your brother. i don't think we've ever watched anything past midnight in your room before."

trust me, dean's brain supplies, i know.

but cas does have a point. there's plenty of loud noises in lotr, and the walls aren't particularly thick. and the last thing he wants right now is for dad to come see why they're not asleep yet, and find them friggin' huddled together on a single.

not that dean minds it.

"well," dean frowns. "what do you suggest? it is sorta late to switch to sleepover games, by the way, if you were planning on saying 'never have i ever'."

"we could use your earphones." cas says, like it's the most obvious thing. "and neither of us ever win in 'never have i ever', dean. or lose, actually. we know each each other too well. why would i suggest that?"

but dean's already stuck on a previous part of cas's sentence. "m-my earphones?"

cas blinks at him. "yes?"

dean swallows.

"unless you want to play 'never have i ever'?"

dean swats at cas for that, which the latter tries to dodge by pushing dean with both hands, until dean's wriggling and swearing at him to stop trying to put him through the wall because either they really are cosied up in that little space, or being in the middle of a really important realization makes you go soft on your opponent.

when cas finally lets dean go with a self-satisfied grin, dean only falters for a moment before planting the laptop on cas indelicately and knee-waddling to the end of the bed to get to his desk.

he finds his extremely well-used black earphones soon enough and returns to his spot, where cas shifts hardly an inch to give him his due space, resulting in dean well and truly sandwiched between the wall and cas, because his best friend is a jackass like that. and of course, the only reasons dean leans further towards cas with practised annoyance etched on his face is because it's the kind of annoying he's supposed to be, and it's october and the wall is cold.

cas, on the other hand, is really not.

"what are you waiting for?" cas grumbles, eyes squinty at dean in the dark, and dean makes a face at him, plugging it in (without needing to look, not that he'd've been able to see a thing in the dark anyways), and offering cas the left earplug.

which cas promptly puts in his left ear — the one that's farther away — because he's cas, and things like which earplug is meant for which ear, matter to him.

dean friggin' loves him.

and it's some time after dean's put the right one in his left ear — because he's not cas is why, and their heads are close enough already — and they've hit play and settled into the comfortable silence of watching a movie they've both seen at least five times in the past and dean's actually begun to pay attention, that he absolutely freezes in his metaphorical tracks, the entire world stuttering to a halt as he tries to register that last thought.

he loves cas.

he said it to himself. he said he loved him.

and that's just goddamn it.

he loves cas.

dean's eyes flit to cas, who's watching the movie without having any life-altering revelations, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn every five minutes (a habit dean can proudly claim to have been responsible for fostering in the first place), not smiling but with a corner of his lip pulled up like he ends up unconsciously doing whenever he's really paying attention, his profile only half-lit with colors, and his closeness suddenly so incredibly flustering.

yeah, well. you've known it for a while, the voice in dean's head that's not exactly his, returns. haven't you?

and maybe he has.

or maybe he hasn't, and it really does feel like a switch flipping for some people. people like him who're zoning out watching lord of the rings one moment, and smitten with their best friends the second.

it doesn't really matter either way, does it?

it's 2:37 am when dean turns his head to the movie again.

inarguably far too late for anything to matter to dean other the fact that he knows. the fact that he knows that he's in love with cas. and the fact that he is.

(maybe he can think of ways to ask him out tomorrow.

or next week.

or maybe he'll chicken out a thousand times until he finally ends up stuttering his way through a severely practised-in-the-mirror confession eight months later, and cas will smile that smile he reserves for dean, and say he can't make it friday because of astronomy club, and dean'll blush even harder because he knew that, he knows that dammit, and then cas will suggest thursday instead, and thursday will be too soon and way too terrifying and just perfect. and then they'll live happily ever after.)

but dean's got all the time in the world to sort out — read: lose his shit over — the maybe's.

right now? being in love with cas is enough.

and being here, watching the last sixteen minutes of one of their mutually favorite movies in bed with his best friend and love of his life, is perfect.

dean does end up falling asleep first, yet again, cause turns out achieving self-awareness and spontaneous living-in-the-moment prowess don't do shit to help with being less of an embarrassment.

but this time, he gets to wake up with an arm slotted around his waist, and a warm castiel curled up close behind him, still fast asleep and breathing in light puffs down dean's tshirt, so maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to chalk this one up as a loss after all.

doesn't mean cas still won't be a smugfaced little shit about it though.

but then, that's probably one of the things dean winchester loves about him anyway.

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thelinthing · 3 years ago

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Ireland vacation 2022 recap

On Friday, September 2, 2022, the alarm goes off in the middle of the night – half past three in the morning. A dream we've had for as long as I can remember is coming true; we are going to Ireland.

However, preparing for a holiday is not without stress. Weeks of planning, endless hours on Google Maps, checking every bus connection thirty times and finally having a complete nervous breakdown about the forecast weather, which predicted rain rain and more rain all week. So we just packed our bags with extra rain gear and hope for the best.

At five o'clock AM grandma and her boyfriend are at the door to take us to Amsterdam. Months of news reports of horror scenarios at Schiphol Airport, endless lines at security and lost luggage are all in the back of our minds, but you can’t do more than arrive on time and provide your luggage with stickers and a GPS tag. So we did exactly that, but once arrived at Schiphol the stress turned out to be for nothing. First we had about an hour of waiting at an almost deserted check-in desk, then we took an almost leisurly stroll through a security line of 20 minutes, and then another quiet hour of waiting with far too expensive coffee in the departure hall. The flight was somewhat delayed, but around half past ten we left the runway behind us and climbed up towards the North Sea.

The flight went well, except for the landing, where our ears very painfully indicated that they did not agree with the cabin pressure difference. But then we saw the Howth peninsula, and how the Irish sea pounded upon the cliffs, and it started to sink in; we are really there.

After a somewhat chaotic lunch at Dublin Airport, we had to look for a bus to Bray, where we had booked our Airbnb. After a few more minutes of trudging fruitlessly from one terminal to the other, we were suddenly sent by a couple of helpful ladies to a bus headed in that direction, and we had three minutes to catch it. So we threw the luggage in the belly of the bus and we got on board.

We soon found out that the local Irish are absolutely friendly people, except for bus drivers. This good man was the first we met of many who addressed us curtly and surly. Apparently being a bus driver in these parts is a hard profession.

We arrived at Bray and it took us about a twenty minute walk to get to our Airbnb. Tired, broken, worn out but satisfied we arrived and were warmly greeted by Helen, our hostess, who shares the house with her platonic friend Gerry.

We dragged the luggage to our room upstairs and thankfully plopped down on the comfortable beds, then spent the rest of the afternoon out cold. At dinnertime we made our way to the Aldi further on for the necessary provisions, filled the stomachs with an instant curry and hit the sack after an episode of Stranger Things.

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On Saturday we put on the rain gear and Gerry gave us a lift to the Bray to Greystones Cliff Walk – a walking route that winds between the coast of the Irish Sea and the hillside of Bray Head. The pants of my rain suit turned out to have a big tear at the seam and by the time we got back it had torn from waist to crotch. So that could go to the trash. I'm still happy with my foresight and the extra rain poncho I packed anyway and that kept my butt dry for the rest of that afternoon.

Despite the rain we still walked a beautiful route. Aided by our walking sticks, we dodged huge of puddles of rain on the muddy trail, and marveled at the ease with which the locals walked these trails.

The local birds were extensively photographed by Mom, but the camera soon became too wet to use and disappeared back into the bag.

We followed the trail for about two miles before returning to Bray, pining for a hot lunch, which we eventually found at a joint called Wilde on the boardwalk, where we had an invigorating bowl of mushroom soup and watched football on TV

The bus back to the Airbnb was quickly found. Another nap, spaghetti bolognese for dinner, another episode of Stranger Things, and the first real day of vacation was done.

______________________________

come the next morning the sky was, to our relief, blue and the hills outside our bedroom window bathed in sunlight.

About a half hour walk from our address we found Killruddery House. A large mansion with impressive gardens in which we could get lost. Apparently there was some kind of sappy romance movie being shot there with Lindsey Lohan in the lead role. All kinds of film equipment could be seen in and around the house and the picturesque tearoom in the conservatory had been transformed into a kitschy film set of a wedding location with lots of pink.

A lady in a pink jacket peered through the conservatory window and made a face. 'Not my taste.' she said. We agreed.

Further into the park we found a path leading to a rocky hill overlooking the house and gardens. There we found the lady with the pink jacket again, sitting on a rock, enjoying the view. We sat down next to her and had a nice chat.

She asked us about our motivation to visit Ireland, and we told her that our love for the country started with the music of Riverdance and the like. The lady then told us that Riverdance happened to be showing this week at the Gaiety theater in Dublin. She went there herself this week with her daughter.

The idea of going to Riverdance sounded like the icing on the cake for our vacation to us.

The lady was determined to get us in the mood. She grabbed her cell phone, looked up the Riverdance theme, grabbed Moms hands and started a spontaneous dance. So the three of us – Mom, me and a total stranger lady – were dancing and hopping like crazy on a rock at Killruddery Gardens. We then gave her a big hug, and the lady walked back to the gardens. We stood on that rock for a good five minutes, absolutely stunned, and joked that we had met a real Irish fairy.

One thing was certain; we had to go to Riverdance this week. As soon as we were back at our accommodation, we immediately booked the tickets for the next Tuesday.

_____________________________________

Monday started with gray skies and heavy rain. Since we had covered almost ten kilometers the day before, the legs were getting really sore and we decided to take a rest day. We did some laundry and in the afternoon decided to take a short walk in the neighborhood. We had seen on Google Maps that a block or two away there were ruins of an old castle tower, and we decided to check it out.

We did take our walking sticks with us, given the sore legs. Google maps took us on a strange route and all paths came to a dead end. We wandered through the suburbs for a while, where we got some weird glances because of our walking sticks. When we finally got our sights on the tower, we found that it was surrounded by impenetrable fences and all the paths that ever led to it were bricked up with gray stone walls. A bit disappointed, we continued in the drizzling rain to Lidl to get some groceries and returned to the Airbnb. There we were told that the tower had recently been closed to prevent loitering. Lacking further plans, we got out our deck of cards and spent the afternoon playing Crazy Eights.

_______________________________________

Since we were going to Riverdance on Tuesday evening, we decided to add an afternoon in Dublin. We took the train into town with a vague plan to at least meander through the lanes of St Stephen's Green park, admire Trinity College and check out the adjacent famous Grafton Street shopping area.

Unfortunately, the rain threw a spanner in the works. Our visit to Trinity College went no further than the courtyard, where we quickly moved on because it was crowded and eventually took shelter at a Burger King for lunch. A few minutes of Googling later we found an address to spend the rest of the afternoon out of the elements and walked on to the Dublin Archaeological Museum. The entrance was free, but the necessary euros were spent at the souvenir shop there.

The museum was a great filler for the afternoon, but my legs in particular suffered from fatigue again. Fortunately, when we left the museum it was dry again and we went looking for a phamracy to get something for the muscle pain. A painkiller and a well-deserved break on a bench at St Stephen's Green later got me back on track. In the park quite some seagulls, pigeons and a heron have been photographed. We then headed out to find a cheap restauraunt to have dinner. We found one on the corner of the Gaiaty theater, which was run by Americans and where we ate a plate of pasta with pesto and chicken for little money.

We quickly visited a beautiful indoor shopping center opposite the theater where we bought more souvenirs and a little later we found ourselves in the beautiful Victorian Gaiety theatre. We had arranged pretty decent seats on the side of the front box.

The show itself was phenomenal. We've watched the 1996 New York show thousands of times on videotape, but despite the fact that this version had a smaller dance troupe and the live orchestra consisted of just three ladies, the real thing can't be matched. The first half of the show followed the set list we knew well, but in the second half we were surprised with quite a bit of new songs. By the end our hands were sore with applause and the company received a well-deserved standing ovation.

We found a bus back to Bray and got back into bed by midnight.

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The next day, a visit to the enchanting Powerscourt House was on the agenda. The plan was to take the bus to the nearby village of Enniskerry but that turned out to be quite a challenge. The bus we had planned to catch simply didn't arrive and we were told by a local bus driver that the next one was coming in an hour. To kill the time we walked to the beach and the promenade behind the station and admired the waves of the Irish Sea in the sun.

We returned to the station but unfortunately disaster had to strike. Mom's ankle buckled when stepping off a curb and she was suddenly laying on the street with a scraped knee and a sore ankle.

Because to the chaos surrounding the fall, we managed to get to the wrong bus stop and the bus to Enniskerry drove off without us. We were fed up with the local public transport by now, so we opted to take a taxi.

A friendly Lyft taxi driver took us to the gates of Powerscourt Estate. In hindsight it was a good thing we hadn't taken the walk from Enniskerry to Powerscourt as the road went steeply uphill and with Mom’s busted ankle we would never have made it.

Powerscourt was beautiful and we kept it fairly dry until we got to the Japanese Garden where it started to rain. The umbrellas came out and we limped on to the adorable little Peperpot tower. But everything was getting wet and clammy and Mom’s ankle wasn't getting any better. We made our way to the cafe and got orselves two huge cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and I tried to book a taxi back using the Lyft app. The app neatly stated that a taxi would be there in about twenty minutes, but somehow I got two confirmation emails. We went to wait at the front gate… and waited and waited… and not a taxi in sight. Over an hour and two more annoyed phone calls to Lyft later, it turned out that they had mistakenly booked two taxis first, (hence the double confirmation in the mail), then were both canceled, and then we were rather rudely told they had no more taxis available. As things were looking now, we were stranded.

We went back inside where we just cought the receptionist before she left, and she managed to arrange an alternative taxi driver for us. A few minutes later an old fellow from Enniskerry with not a single tooth left in his mouth came to our rescue and dropped us off at the Airbnb.

In the evening when we had just gone to bed, the owners of the Airbnb came home again. I informed them that Mom was down with a sore ankle and immediately a cold compress and a support sock was provided and we could even borrow a pair of crutches for the next day that they happened to have lying around. We will not soon forget our hosts’ wonderfull care.

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We had booked a bus tour for Thursday from Dublin to the town of Glendalough, deep in the Wicklow Mountains. Fortunately Mom’s ankle was much better and it turned out to be no worse than slightly sprained. Still, Gerry insisted that we take the crutches with us.

The alarm went off at five in the morning, as the Dublin bus left around eight. Once again we took the train into town and found the Paddywaggon Tours bus at The Spire – a 121-metre-long pole that the locals also dubbed the Stiletto in the Ghetto and the Stiffy by the Liffey – among other things.

The bus was full of tourists and mostly Americans. Our driver entertained us with stories and tidbits about the area with his fantastic storytelling voice during the drive. In the mountains it was wet and foggy but the narrow roads, lined by low stone walls made the ride quite exciting. We stopped at Loch Tay, also known as the Guinness lake. Apparently this was where Kattegat's set from the Vikings series was built. However, there was no longer a Viking to be seen. There was little be seen anyway because of the fog, unfortunately. But just as the bus driver called us back to continue the ride, the fog suddenly lifted enough from the valley to still treat us to a spectacular view of the lake.

Once in Glendalough we were told we had only an hour and a half to walk around there, and the weather unfortunately remained on the wet side. We walked around the ancient ruins and the cemetery, on to the lake and past a waterfall, and far too quickly we had to turn around again to get to the bus in time.

Back in Dublin, Mom was eager for a cup of coffee, but although Talbot Street indicated on Google Maps that there were plenty of pubs, in reality it turned out to be a fairly dodgy street where inviting pubs turned out to be thinly spread. At the end towards Connoly Station we found a pub that looked okay, but were fresh out of coffee, so we settled for a cup of tea. In any case, it warmed our chilled bodies before catching the train again to Bray, where we prepared our suitcases for the return journey.

____________________________________

And just like that, a week has passed and one spends the whole Friday trying to get home. Unfortunately Helen had already left for work, but we were still able to give Gerry a bouquet of flowers and luxurious bars of chocolate we purchased the day before and thanked them profusely for their hospitality.

We once again took the train to the city. In Dublin we found a bus to the airport, but we found out that our flight was delayed at least an hour. After a long wait we finally left Ireland around 4.30pm and flew back to Amsterdam without any further problems, where my uncle picked us up and we arrived back at the safety and familiarity of our homes at around 9:30 PM.

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levis-hazelnut · 4 years ago

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Summary: when you and your best friend, Hanji, were younger, you had made up stories about your dream guys - what they would look like and how you would meet. What happens when the one you had made up appears to be real?

Warning(s): I don’t think there are any in this chapter. But, please do tell me if there are any.

Taglist (closed!): @castellandiangelo

Status: completed!

part 3 > part 4 > part 5

series masterlist

My elbow was propped up on the table with my head in my palm as I flicked around the fruit in my bowl with a fork. I was home alone since Hanji went out somewhere and I had nothing to do. Yeah, the weather was pleasant but I didn't feel like going out even though it's a Saturday. I just wanted to roll myself into a ball in a corner and slowly die. What's the reason for my misery? Well, you probably don't even care, but I'll tell you anyway. So, you know how I told Petra that she can take away my Levi, yes, he's my Levi. Whatever. So, of course, since I'm such a great friend, I started to try and get them to hang out more and more, while I tried to fight away my feelings. The feelings that try and consume me every time I see that stupidly sexy face of his.

Before I start fantasising about him, I'll carry on... So, they seem to get along well since Levi prefers normal people, unlike myself and my other friends. He still hangs out with me, but just not as much as before and I truly think he's catching feelings for her. Oh, I should also mention that this has been going on for three months so it's definitely possible for that to happen. Like I basically fell in love with him as soon as I saw him. Well, who cares about me and my feelings? I know Levi doesn't (well, he tries to care for me but I push him away as the idiot I am).

And that's essentially the reason why I want to die in a corner. They both better thank me when they get together otherwise I will straight up trash every single one of their dates. I'm an idiot. I'm stupid. I'm a poor excuse of-- "You aren't an idiot, you're a weirdo. Don't forget that." Tch. His dumb voice is trying to slither into my brain. Can't I at least finish my self-loathe session? So inconsiderate. "Ugh, why am I annoyed at him for something I caused? I'm truly a horrible being," I muttered to no one in particular before groaning when I reached for my phone that buzzed in my ears. "What?" I spat when I answered, not even reading the caller ID. "Good afternoon to you, too, darlin'. What's wrong with you?" Oh, it's my favourite person ever... "What do you want, Ackerman?" I asked with a bitter tone. "First of all, I want an explanation." "For what?" "Why are you acting like this? You've been moping around for the past couple of fucking months. What's going on?" "... Nothing. What's the other thing you want?" "I haven't gotten an explanation yet." "Levi, please, just forget about it." My tone showed that I just wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible. I heard a sigh before hushed words sounded. "(Y/N), I'm going to come to your apartment and hold you at gunpoint if you don't tell me." "Sure, do whatever, but I'm still not going to tell you." "You're fucking crazy." Yeah, I know. That's why you prefer Petra over me, I thought. "I know. Can you leave me alone now?" "... The other thing I wanted to ask is if I could come over later." "Why? Are you actually going to hold me at gunpoint?" I asked sarcastically. Another sigh sounded. "We've barely hung out recently and it sounds like you're going to start crying any moment, so I'll come and keep you company. Also, we have that assignment to do." Why do you have to be such a softy? Just when I was getting annoyed with you, you decide to be a Prince Charming. "Fine. What time are you coming?" "Is three fine?" I glanced at the time and saw that it was already two o'clock. "Yep. I'll see you later." "Bye." ~/~ Levi and I sat at the small, round dining table with both of our laptops open as we worked on the assignment together. We let Lo-Fi play quietly as background noise and we often spoke - either to distract ourselves from the boring shit we were doing, or to help each other. As he said, Levi had a come a few minutes before three o'clock and after trying to get me to tell what happened, he decided it was futile and suggested we start working. Since I had nothing else to do apart from dying, I agreed.

As he cleared the table and put his things on the surface, I got whatever snacks we had and placed them in the middle of the table. I also made Levi a tea and myself - a coffee before we sat down and started. I wasn't really in the mood for anyone. I didn't even want Levi to be here when he first arrived, but now I don't mind since he gives me good company. After about an hour, Levi suddenly decided to get up so I averted my eyes from the laptop screen to question what was wrong.

And his answer?

Girl, get ready for this. You're going to burst into tears for me. "... I'm going on a date with Petra." There it is. The reason why I wanted to just breakdown and die in a hole. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Those words kept on repeating in my mind like some kind of incantation as he packed his things away and slipped his jacket on before grabbing his phone. Soon, I knocked out of my trance and looked up at him before standing up. "... Petra?" "I asked her out yesterday." "You did?" I squeaked out, assuming that Petra would have been the one to ask him out. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll see you on Monday." "Okay. Bye." Being a good host, I walked him to the door and waited for him to put his shoes on before closing the door once he left. (Y/N), don't cry. Don't cry. Do not cry. He's just a boy... A boy that's a damn Adonis, and has hair I want to tangle my fingers in, and eyes I could stare into all day, and a nose that's just so boopable, and a jaw that could slice me, and lips that I wish I could feel on mine, and a body that looks better than any athlete... Yeah, he's just a boy... that I'm going to fall in love with. Hey, does anyone know a good suicide method that leads to certain death? No? Okay. ~/~ "(Y/N)? Are you home?" "... Yes," I muttered as I laid on the soft carpet in the living room with my cheek pressed against it. "Why are you... on the floor?" Hanji inquired with clear confusion written on her face. "I need help: I want to cry, but my eyes won't even fucking water. I want to die, but I still have a long life ahead of me. I want to sleep, but I'm not even tired. I want to--" "Okay, okay. What's going on?" my bestie questioned and crouched down. "Why are you like this?" I turned my face so it could hide in the carpet. I don't care if I would get spots from stuffing my face in it, I just needed something to comfort me and this was my solution. "Levi and Petra are going on a date today," I spoke into the material and I could almost imagine Hanji's shocked face. You see, I never told her about my stupid promise. "Sorry?" "Levi, aka the love of my life, asked Petra out yesterday.." "Oh, (Y/N)..." I could hear the pity in her voice. "How did this happen?" "Because of my dumb ass." I explained the rest of the story to Hanji, though my words were muffled since I was still giving mouth to mouth resuscitation to the rug. But I know she heard every single word I said. "You know I would never say this to you, but you're a fucking idiot." "Yeah, I know." "You aren't an idiot, you're a weirdo. Don't forget that." "Tch. I can't even stop thinking about him and his shitty words," I mumbled, making sure that my words were inaudible to Hanji since she would ask what I was going on about. "You should've asked him out." "But that would've looked bad after I told Petra I'd help her." "Well, I don't know why you didn't ask him out before. It's already been five months since he first came, and you haven't done anything." "The first month, Eren didn't let me. And the second month is when Petra asked me to help her, so I couldn't do anything for the other three months." "Okay... Petra is a sweet girl with a kind heart, and she deserves someone to make her happy. But, you've basically been married to him since you were thirteen, or however old we were when we made him up. You can't let others take him away from you. I'm sorry, (Y/N), but you truly are an idiot." "I understand that, Hanji. Don't make me hate myself more than I already do." "So, what do you plan to do now?" "I don't know," I sighed before finally sitting up, cross-legged on the floor. "I can't really do anything about it... Hanji, what if they end up getting married?" "... It's only one date. And it may lead to many others, but we never know if they'll get that far." I huffed once again and stared at the ground. Tears still wouldn't fall. And a couple of hours later, I found the kind of comfort I needed. I didn't need words, I just needed warmth in the arms of someone that cares about me and loves me. My face was buried in the crook of Eren's neck as his arms tightened around my form as we laid down on the sofa. I rested on top of him as he tucked my head under his chin and fiddled with my hair.

No words were spoken, none were needed. And he knew that whenever I felt better, I would tell him what happened. But, for now, he would hold me and comfort me. I seriously don't know what I would do without him. He's always been there for me (if Hanji was unable to) and he always manages to get me back to my normal self. But who knows if it will work this time? We stayed in that position for maybe just less than an hour before I sat up and drifted my fingers through my hair with a heavy sigh. Eren also sat up and I could see him looking at me from my peripheral vision, so I turned to face him. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" "... Yeah...” I sighed before explaining everything to him. "... Oh," was all that came out of his mouth before he embraced me once more. "What do I do?" I whispered, and anyone would be able to hear the obvious pain in my voice. "I'm sorry, but I don't know, (Y/N). Just distract yourself. Moping around won't do anything." "I know. But I don't even feel like going anywhere. Or doing anything." "Come on. Don't just dwell on it, do something to take it off your mind. Have a shower, or sleep, or anything to help you." "Hanji's in the shower. I'm not tired. I don't know what else I could do." "(Y/N), I don't like seeing you like this," Eren muttered and gripped my shoulders to pull me away from the embrace. "It's one guy--" "Yeah, one guy that happened to be someone me and Hanji made up. And he happened to like someone else." "Well, why did you make up someone so attractive?" "Eren, this is not my fault, so shut up. How the hell was I supposed to know that he was going to be real?" He bit back a chuckle. "Sorry." "... Please tell me what's so funny?" "You're just adorable when you're angry. Well, when you aren't angry with me." I huffed and flopped back against the cushion of the sofa, hoping it could suck me in. ~/~ On the way to university, I stopped by my favourite cafe and grabbed a coffee before continuing my journey. Wondering why I'm not rushing or tired? Well, that's because my first lecture is at two o'clock so I had the right amount of sleep, and didn't have to force myself to get out of bed or rush. However, I wasn't looking forward to going since two people are going to be there, and I don't feel interacting with them. If you haven't guessed who I'm talking about, the two people are Levi and Petra. As I wandered through the building to get to the lecture hall, I spotted Petra talking to Historia and decided to walk in a different direction. When I turned around, taking a sip of my coffee, I bumped into someone which caused me to choke on the beverage. I patted my chest as I coughed before silencing and looking at the person I accidentally collided against. Of all people... "Hey, darlin'." "You sure you still want to call me that now even though you have a girlfriend?" I muttered and he lifted an eyebrow my way. "Why do you look so confused? Have you already forgotten about Petra?" "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You're still in a bad mood?" "Yeah, I am. And don't even think about questioning me about it. I have a lecture to go to." "Hold up." He took hold of my forearm and I tried yanking myself out of his grip but it was futile. His grip was strong, but it wasn't painful. "We still have five minutes until we have to be there." "... So? Don't you think I should be early for once?" "Fine. But let's walk together--" "Levi!" Oh, I knew exactly whose voice that belonged to. Why am I annoyed at her? She didn't do anything wrong. I need to stop blaming others for the things I caused. "Hi, Levi!" Petra beamed and she pecked his cheek as I slowly felt the raven's grip on me loosen, allowing me to free myself. "Hi, (Y/N)." "Hey," I smiled. Damn, my smile was more fake than propaganda. "I heard you went on a date with Levi. How was it?" I asked, shooting a glance to the male to see that his eyes were on me. "I'm going to borrow your girlfriend for a second." "Sure," he replied as Petra walked beside me, going through random corridors as we spoke. "So, where did you go?" "Well, we went to the cinema first, and then, a small restaurant." "Did he initiate anything?" I smirked, trying to be a teenager that loves gossip. "Um... He gave me a small kiss on the lips when he dropped me home. It was very brief though, almost like a peck." "That's great! That obviously means he had a great time. Did you have fun?" "Yes. Thank you so much, (Y/N). I owe you so much." "Oh, no, it's fine. It's just a favour for an awesome friend." She smiled at me as we made our way back to Levi, finding him standing in the exact same spot. He noticed the smile on my lips but didn't say anything when Petra told him that she has to head to her next lecture. She waved at both of us as I started walking. "(Y/N)?" "What?" I said with exasperation. "Where's that smile gone?" "Levi," I started and turned around to face him. "You don't understand how much I'm trying to stay calm right now. But if you ask me one more question, you'll regret it. All you need to know is that I'm going through something and I don't want to talk about it at all." He simply sighed and nodded as we proceeded to go to our lecture in silence. When I walked in after Levi, I felt someone tousle my hair so I turned around to see Jean, who winked at me. Oh, yeah, I also didn't speak to Jean about getting over me and whatever-whatever. I'm only human, okay? I can't deal with so many things when I have so much on my mind. "Hey, babe." "I already told you not to call me that millions of times." "What's wrong with you?" 3... 2... 1... and... "I've had enough of this... Everyone can just take their fucking noses out of my fucking business! It has nothing to do with you and I have no intention of sharing it with you! Just leave me alone, you fucking assholes!" There it is. The eruption. I barged past Jean and stormed down the corridor as I heard Levi and Jean call me. For fuck's sake. What part of my outburst did they not understand? I do not wish to talk about it and I don't want them commenting on my mood. Just let me be. I slammed the door of the bathroom open, frightening someone I paid no attention to as I leaned against the wall of the bathroom and gazed at the floor. I didn't care about hygiene right now, I just needed some space. "(Y/N)?" I guess I won't be having that, I thought before I looked up to find Hanji there. Gosh, I was so grateful to see her, so I threw myself at her. "What happened? Don't you have a lecture right now?" "Yeah, I do. But people are just pissing me off," I spoke into her chest and I felt her hand pat my back. I parted from the hug and she looked at me questioningly. So, obviously I told her what happened earlier. It wasn't anything big, but I just needed to vent. "(Y/N), you've looked so hurt the past couple of days, or even the past couple of months, and I hate to see you like this. You either cut off ties with both of them or try and keep your feelings away." "I can't do either of those." "Then, you won't be able to fix yourself. Get over the fact that Levi has a potential girlfriend, who is not you. We never know what's in the future so suck it up and be a man,” she said. I fought back a smile that tried to etch onto my lips before giving up and letting it spread across my face. Hanji grinned because she saw I was in a better mood. "Now, get back to your lecture. Who's your professor for this lecture?" "Mike." "Oh, he won't care if you walk in late. Go." I was about to leave, but I looked back and gave Hanji another smile. "Thank you, Hanji." "No problem!" I entered the lecture hall, avoiding the stares from Jean and Levi as I went to sit next to Historia, who grinned up at me. I gave a smile in return and paid attention to the lecture straight away, not wanting any distractions. I kept any negative thoughts out of my mind and focused on my education. Both males that I shouted at didn't try to speak to me for the rest of the day and I was glad about that because when I shouted at them earlier, that was just me getting a little angry. So, if they attempted to talk to me, I would literally explode and say things that shouldn't be repeated. Now, I was at home with Hanji, talking about crap I was barely paying attention to. "(Y/N)...? (Y/N)?" the brunette called. "(Y/N)!" "Hm...? Oh, sorry." "What's up?" "... I kind of feel bad for shouting at Jean and Levi when they were simply caring for me. But, I'm also still pissed at them for nagging me. And I'm not over the fact that Levi and Petra are dating. Also, I haven't spoken to Jean about the whole moving on thing--" "Stop. You need to forget about everything, it's affecting your mood and your thoughts, and you barely concentrate on anything. If you keep this going, you're only going to get worse." "Hanji... I'm trying. No matter what I'm doing, these thoughts always consume me." "Well, talk to Jean. At least you'll have one less thing to fret about." "Uh, I think I'll wait for him to talk to me because I can't just bring it up out of nowhere after shouting at him." "Okay. Also, just apologise to both of them. Then, all that's going to be on your mind is Levi and Petra," she smiled before her expression contorted into something that seemed as if she was deep in her thoughts. "However, that's the biggest of your problems," she muttered and tapped her chin with an index finger as she stared at the ceiling. "I'll do the other two things, and try and do something about the Levi and Petra thing... Of course, I'm not going to break them up or anything," I quickly added when her eyes slightly widened. "I guess I'm just going to be happy for them, and then be even happier if they ever break up. I sound like such a bitch, but I can't help it." "Be whatever you want, just don't be an idiot and get yourself into another mess like this again." "No promises~" I sang with a smirk. So far, ever since Levi appeared, my life has been nothing but a mess. I don't know if that will ever change, but hey, I can only hope for the best.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #x reader #reader insert #anime #dream guy #modern au #series #what's a fic without a lil angst?

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n0longerhuman · 5 years ago

Note

Can i request a scenario for Bokuto where his girlfriend is pregnant and is scared to tell him because she thinks he doesn’t want kids so she starts avoiding him and he asks Akaashi for advice on what to do

y/n: ty for your request !! im writing this while I'm under an exam session, so it may not be the best of my works, but I hope you like it anyway.

genre: kind of angst but with a fluffy ending

𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭.

Seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test, had shaken in Y/N a mixture of emotions that at that moment she wouldn't even have had the ability to describe. She'd stayed there for a few seconds, barely breathing. She couldn't believe it. Her hand resting on her mouth in complete shock, her eyes wide that dared not take the gaze off that piece of plastic that she held in her hands and that had just given her the news of one of the most significant turning points in her life. She couldn't understand how she should've felt at that moment, it seemed to her that she wouldn't have had the strength to be able to manage such a situation, at such an early age. A person like her couldn't have been a good mother, she couldn't have raised a child at best. But the thought didn't go only to her, but also the person with whom she would hypothetically share that child: Bokuto Kōtarō. The thought of having to confess what had happened to the boy passed through her like an icy wind in an instant. She didn't want to watch his reaction, she didn't want to be abandoned, not at a time like that. Bokuto was now pursuing a career as an important volleyball player and certainly wouldn't have had any time to devote himself to a son, Y/N knew that without a doubt he would give up the child. His life would have been destroyed at that age, and it would have been her fault too. And she?

Did she want to keep it? At that moment, it seemed to her that her head was about to burst, she hadn't even noticed that she was trembling. She was so panicked that she didn't even have the right strength to cry.

Y/N came out of the bathroom with a rather slow pace, her hands hidden in her pocket and her gaze down. To say that she was afraid to face that situation was little, but she couldn't remain hidden forever.

She took her phone once she threw herself on the bed, and as usual she found the familiar messages from Kōtarō, one in particular said: «I should finish earlier tonight, wanna watch a movie?» She sighed, finally realizing that her heart was beating wildly. Her fingers wrote even before she could connect her mind to her hand, and immediately the answer was an «I'm sorry, today I really can't, we'll have to put it off.»

And at that moment, Y/N exactly imagined the boy's reaction, since she didn't dare to give up not even an opportunity that she'd have had in seeing Bokuto and tried to take advantage of every free hole in their days, so as to be able to stay with him as often as possible, despite countless commitments.

In fact, on his side, his face became corrupted in reading that unusual answer, perhaps even colder than the usual ones he was used to receiving from the girl. It seemed almost strange to him, but he decided not to say anything about it. After all, she too could have had some unforeseen and this was probably the cause of the invitation declined that evening. Or at least, so he thought.

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N began to become increasingly distant. The times they could see each other decreased more and more, as did the duration of their outings. Y/N's behavior had become decidedly more aloof, she always seemed thoughtless and about to want to say something, something that never came out of her mouth, but Bokuto couldn't understand what he had done wrong to make it happen. Obviously he had asked her; he could no longer hold that heavy weight on his heart, he couldn't bear to see her feel bad because it made him feel bad too. But her response was a reassurance for him. «It's okay, Kō'. Don't worry, really. I'm fine.»

But as stubborn as he was, the boy couldn't stop brooding over it, trying to understand why his girlfriend had become so cold towards him. He would have liked to solve this problem and go back to spending as much time as he could with her, since both were always busy and he missed her so much.

«Akaashi, ― the big owl came up with what the raven-haired boy recognized for the expression the ace had during one of the usual mental breakdowns ― do you think Y/N hates me?»

Akaashi raised his eyebrows with a questioning expression, not understanding the reason for the question. Whenever he happened to see the couple or to go out with them, the girl always seemed to him very fond of the captain. «Why should she hate you, Bokuto-san?»

And at that moment, Kōtarō explained to his best friend the bad situation he was in, Akaashi too had to admit how much he was a bit displaced. «Honestly, I think you should try to ask her again what's wrong, this time without her lying. If she told you she's okay, it could mean she doesn't want you to worry and didn't realize she was getting the opposite result.»

As Akaashi spoke, Bokuto could almost see the wheels of his brain moving quickly in a perfectly combined manner. «Something's probably happened to her and she wants you to stay out of it. I'm sure she's doing it for your own good, Bokuto-san.»

After that brief conversation with the vice-captain, Kōtarō decided to organize himself for that evening. This time, he would show up at the girl's house without even warning first. He thought that perhaps in surprise she would finally decide to explain to him what was happening to her. And for this reason, at nine o'clock in the evening, Bokuto knocked on her door.

Y/N winced at the sound of those steady fists tapping the front door of her house with confidence. She could have recognized him anywhere, she thought at that moment. Again, she felt her heart pounding at an incredible rate. Panicking on that occasion was absolutely not the right thing. She got up, somewhat hesitant, and went to the door and then opened it. In front of her was the boy, an envelope in his hand containing what looked like food and, before she could even say a word, the boy muttered a: «I brought you food and no, I don't accept negative answers.»

The dinner was silent, the evidence of the problem was now clear. Bokuto couldn't take it anymore, not seeing how much she couldn't even look him in the eyes.

«Y/N, listen, I have no idea what's happening to you but I seriously need you to tell me about it ― began the young man, and when he didn't receive any response once again, he decided to continue ― Why the heck are you doing this? Can you at least explain to me what I did to you? And if it wasn't me, what on earth is bothering you so much that you can't even explain it to your boyfrien―»

«I'M PREGNANT!» The answer came out brutally from the girl's lips, her hands holding the edge of the sweatshirt she was wearing at the time, her eyes already full of tears and focused on the figure of the person she had just screamed at unwittingly.

It seemed to him that his own body was disappearing at that moment, the severed breath, the wide eyes and the parted lips captured the boy's face in an evident expression that expressed pure disbelief.

«Wh-what?» His voice, barely a whisper, blocked by the strong shiver that had run from head to toe at that moment.

«I'm pregnant, I didn't tell you anything because I knew it would end badly and I didn't want to give you even more worries, Kōtarō. I know you don't want a child and I understand it perfectly, I-I didn't want it to end between us and I swear to you that... I'll do something about it, I'm just so worried because I don't know what to do and this thing scares me a lot.»

Every word that Y/N had said, had reached Bokuto's heart as if they were swords. He couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it. He had no idea how it could've happened, and he was afraid of not being able to get out of it in the best way, but the thing that had hurt him most was the fact that she had avoided talking to him about something so big to just protect him.

He was so mortified that he hadn't even noticed that his tears had started to drop like those of the girl in front of him. He said nothing, only pulled her to him and held her so tight that for a moment it seemed to him that she had stopped breathing.

«Never say such a thing again, Y/N. It's something bigger than us, but that doesn't mean we can't solve it! I will respect any of your choices and I will be happy to share any road you want to take, because I love you ― with a slightly higher voice, Bokuto didn't dare to detach from her body ― I would never abandon you, do not even say it as a joke, okay?»

Y/N was completely taken aback. The boy's words, so unusual if heard from his mouth, struck her even more than she was already shaken in principle because of that situation, and this led her to burst into tears that made her chest hurt. She hid her face in the hollow of his neck, trying to stifle the sobs, while his hand began to caress her hair muttering some 'It's all right, I'm here.'

«I don't know who to thank for bringing me to meet someone like you, seriously.» this was the only thing she managed to whisper, terribly tired. And for the first time, she seemed to see a light of hope to go through that terrible moment.

Bokuto couldn't think how difficult it had been for her to hold that weight and carry it on silently for so long, and he was sure that, until the last moment, he would have taken all of himself to help her.

«We'll make it, we'll make it together.»

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rachel1987 · 5 years ago

Text

GWCFT Part 3

Get ready to run some errands! Hatter and Hare get their steps in on this update as they run around Wonderland getting ready for June to arrive. Hare continues to have a nervous breakdown and Hatter can’t help but be an adorable pain in the ass.

xposted on ao3 and FF.net

Part 3:

A few hours later, Hatter pushed the bedroom door open with his elbow, a tray in his hands. Hare stirred, groaning as he flopped around in bed, tangled up in his sheets.

The tall man entered the room and crept to Hare's side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table as he took a seat. Reaching a gloved hand out, he touched Hare's shoulder and shook it softly. "Hare… Hare, it's time to get up." Hatter's palms itched as he sat there, forcing himself to remain calm. His instincts were making him want to body slam down on the bed and squeeze Hare till he woke up.

Feeling the touch on his shoulder, Hare opened his brown eyes slowly, looking around with blurry vision. "What time is it?" he muttered, voice dry from sleeping with his mouth open. He flipped over onto his back and sat up, reaching out for his glasses. His hand clanked against a teapot, two cups with saucers and a plate of reheated breakfast rolls.

"Might be a little past breakfast, but it isn't too late for lunch," Hatter said with a smile, reaching out and nabbing the glasses from the table, handing them to Hare.

"How long have I been asleep?" Hare yawned, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. His hair was frazzed out (more than usual) and he still looked tired, but he was at least coherent. It seemed the caffeine had worked through his system too.

"Only a couple hours, nothing to worry about," Hatter soothed him, filling one of the cups with hot tea and passing it to his friend after adding some sugar and lemon.

Hare gave him an uneasy glance and took the cup, sniffing it before taking a sip. "Camomile…" he smiled, taking a larger swig.

Hatter waited till the cup was mostly empty before speaking again. "I put everything away out there and did one final check of the house, it's all in order. You don't have to worry about cleaning anything else today."

Hare moved to protest, but Hatter gave him a 'you'd-better-not' look, so he sat still, finishing up the tea before helping himself to more.

"I also took the liberty of airing the place out and watering your garden," Hatter beamed, very proud of himself in taking charge. He had omitted the fact that he had found an old diary of Hare's and read it while laying the wrong way on his sofa.

"Thank you," Hare replied, stirring more sugar into his cup. "You've been a busy Hatter this morning."

"Anything for you, old buddy," Hatter shrugged, brushing some imaginary lint off his sleeve before also helping himself to some tea. "Now all we need to do is get you showered and packed and we'll go back to the Hat house for a day of relaxation."

Hare snorted and choked on his tea, trying not to spill any of it as he placed his cup back on the tray. "Go to the Hat house? But I've still got things to do here! I haven't cleaned out the fridge or the basement and-"

Hatter shook his head and put a finger to the Hare's lips to shush him, giving him a stern look. "Your mother won't look in the fridge and we'll lock the basement door so she won't go into it."

"But-" Hare started, Hatter's finger still against his front teeth as he tried to speak.

"Hare, your house is clean and, to be frank, I don't trust you on your own anymore after that stunt you pulled last night."

Hare crossed his arms in an imitation of Rabbit and leaned back against his headboard. "I hate it when you try to be Frank… I prefer when you act like John if you can't be the Hatter."

Hatter rolled his eyes and scooted closer to the Hare, offering him a breakfast roll as a peace offering. "Yes, well, I can't be John all the time."

Hare took the roll and nibbled at it, only realizing how hungry he was after he gobbled it down.

"Anyway," Hatter waved a hand. "We'll get you showered and pack you a bag and you'll stay at my place till your Mother shows up. That way I can keep an eye on you and we can finish all the party planning. And you can figure out what you'd like to do for the magic act."

"Oh, right… that," Hare said, losing his appetite again as he placed his third roll back on the plate, half eaten. In the hustle and bustle of last night, he had forgotten that he'd agreed to the talent show and a magic act for his mother.

"I've already asked everyone and they've all agreed to perform," Hatter announced. "Well, I've spoken to everybody but Alice, but I don't think she should be a problem. She always likes to have fun with us no matter what we're doing."

"Too late to back out now, huh?" Hare said aloud, more to himself than anybody else.

"Now don't be a killjoy," Hatter said, patting Hare on the knee before getting to his feet. "I'll start getting these dishes done, why don't you go take a shower? You smell like dish soap and Pine-sol."

Hatter left Hare to himself, who pouted a little and sat alone in his room for a few minutes, listening to him the kitchen. He sat there till he heard a crash and then a soft "damn" from a husky voice, making him shake his head.

"Oh gawwwwd…" Hare rubbed his eyes and caught a whiff of himself, deciding that he did need a shower after all.

"Don't forget your magic trunk too!" Hatter said, laying across the bed with his feet up in the air, a Rubik's cube in his hands as Hare packed his duffel bag.

"Already got it," Hare said absently, folding up another yellow shirt and placing it neatly in his bag. He only needed a couple days worth of clothes, but he was packing more than he needed because he never knew when he'd need to change at the Hat house. They usually got up to some mischief that ended in someone getting filthy and the idea of having to do laundry wasn't overly appealing. "Maybe I should just do my juggling act… or play my tuba. I don't know if magic is such a good idea."

"Naw, your Mom has seen you do those things," Hatter said, tossing the Rubik's cube onto the floor in frustration. He'd managed to get three sides done, but the last three were proving to be more difficult. "Or fit those into your magic act."

The Hatter seemed stuck on seeing some magic performed by the Amazing Hair-raising Hare, so he supposed that's what he'd have to do. Scrunching up his face, he opened his magic trunk and threw his bowling pins, juggling balls and tuba inside.

"Where'd those doves go?" Hatter asked, leaning over and peeking into the trunk. He reached an arm in and swatted around blindly, fingers brushing against objects in the darkness. Hare shook his head and was about to say how there weren't any birds inside when four more flew out. "Aw, nuts… sorry."

"It's okay, I'll get more…" Hare muttered in astonishment, taking another look deep into the trunk.

"Well…" Hatter said loudly, pushing himself up off the bed and onto his feet, planting the landing like a gold medal gymnast. "Anything else or are we ready to go?"

"Uh, I don't think so. I'm ready."

"Righty roo," Hatter said, linking his arm with the Hare and leading him through the house and out the front door.

The rest of the day was one of forced relaxation. Hatter took Hare back to the Hat house and insisted that they do nothing the entire rest of the day. They'd bring in dinner and watch television or read comics and just laze around. They had spent the past few days doing nothing but cleaning, they deserved a little time to not do anything. There were a few times when Hatter caught Hare straightening up and whatever he was doing was taken out of his mits and he was forced to return to the sofa and watch another television show. By the 4th episode of Dodo's Do The Strangest Things, he thought he'd go crazy.

Of course, they did have their usual tea party at 4 o'clock, that was non negotiable. Alice and the Tweedles decided to join them and after the tea party they threw a softball around the tea table and spoke about nothing in particular, which was nice.

June's visit was specifically not mentioned, for fear that it would aggravate Hare. Therefore, Hatter made a special effort to squash any mention of her, in the most exaggerated fashion, of course. Hare thought he was overreacting, but also secretly appreciated it. Truth was, he was really tired from the past few days of hard labor. He had overdone it and did need a break. So, while he pouted and huffed and puffed about everything, he was hiding how much he enjoyed being doted on.

They brought in Chinese food for dinner (with oolong tea and miso soup) and ate it with chopsticks. They fought over who would get which fortune cookie and made fun of what the paper slips said inside. More tea was brewed, they watched Some Like it Hot and argued over who would make a more attractive woman if they were in the starring roles of the film.

"No, I would," Hatter argued, pulling his pajama pants leg up and resting his bare limb onto the low coffee table. "Look at these gams! They go on for miles!"

"No no no no," Hare shook his head and wagged his finger a little. "You may have the legs, but I have much more vavoom in the rear end department."

"How true that is," Hatter said, wiggling his eyebrows provocatively after craning his neck back and taking a look, causing Hare to laugh out loud and throw popcorn at him.

When they finally made their way to bed late into the evening, Hare couldn't wipe the smile from his face. After all the work and trouble he had put Hatter through, this was the day he didn't know they'd needed. He had almost completely forgotten about his mother coming and the talent show that he still had to plan for. Everything felt like it had returned to normal.

He cuddled into the Hatter and smiled very contentedly as they fell asleep wrapped up in one another.

The next morning Hare decided it would be a good idea for him to go for a jog to clear his head and get his focus back. He was honestly thinking of signing up for the Wonderland 5K and he thought that maybe going for a bit of a run would do him some good. It would be good to dust off his running shoes and see if he still had it in him.

He raided the attic, making sure to leave the room just as clean as when he had found it. Honestly, he was surprised that the Hatter had avoided the room as well as he had been. The place was still pretty spick and span, even a few days after cleaning. After a little bit of digging, he found one of his yellow sweatsuits and a pair of running shoes in a trunk.

Hatter was in the kitchen rummaging around for a clean kettle to start brewing the morning tea when Hare appeared in his jogging suit.

"Oh…" Hatter gave him a once over with some interest. "Going for a run, huh?"

"Yeah, I thought it'd be a good idea. Help me clear my head." Hare said in the most nonchalant way he knew how, taking a seat at the kitchen table to lace up his sneakers.

"You want me to come with?" The lack of enthusiasm was noted in Hatter's voice, it sounded like he'd almost rather wash all the dishes he had in his house than go for a run.

"No, you don't have to," he replied, wiping a scuff off his sneaker before leaning back into his chair a little. "It'll just be quick, only a couple miles. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops."

"Okay…" Hatter drawled, filling up the kettle and setting it on the stove, clicking the burner on underneath it. "I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get back. Anything sound scrummy to you? I think I have some eggs in the ice box."

"Eggs would be nice," he agreed, getting to his feet and lifting onto his toes to give Hatter a smooch on the cheek. "Time me?"

"I'll, uh... count the seconds," Hatter said, altering his voice and trying to sound as gushy as possible.

Hare rolled his eyes and made his way through the OUT door. He paused at the stone gate, using it to prop his leg up as he stretched a bit, planning his route for the morning. He'd start around the Hat house, through the forest to the Palace, maybe see if Caterpillar was around…

After stretching, he bounced on his feet a little, trying to warm up some before taking off at a smooth pace.

He tried to keep his head as clear as possible as he ran, attempting to take in the scenery. It was too early for him to really run into anybody, but he could sense the signs of life within the various dwellings he passed. He could hear the music coming from the Tweedles house, knowing they were probably up and doing their morning dance routines. He could smell breakfast being cooked when he passed the palace, the scent of bacon and waffles making him want to stop and reach his hand in through the kitchen window to grab some.

"Wouldn't Rabbit be surprised?" he thought to himself with a laugh.

He made sure to weave his way through the Caterpillar's mushroom forest, hoping that he wasn't too early to catch him awake. He was lucky today. The large insect was already up, packing books into a fabric bag to be returned to the library. It seemed he was on his way out.

"Good morning, Caterpillar!" Hare huffed as he jogged up, slowing down a little upon approach.

"Ah, Mr Hare. Good morning. Out for a morning run, I see." The Caterpillar was only marginally interested, which was usual.

Hare nodded and bounced around in place to keep his heart rate up, having worked up a sweat from his trek through the forest. The Caterpillar glanced at him silently, just the look of this bounding bunny making his bulky form feel tired.

"Can I help you?" Caterpillar finally asked, after a long awkward pause.

"Oh, right," Hare stopped hopping around, taking a seat on a large mushroom. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something if you aren't busy. I need your help."

"I'm always busy, I have many things that I do that get no attention whatsoever," the six armed insect said, waving all of his right hands at the wrist at once. "But let's see what I can do for you. What's on your mind?"

"Well, as you know my Mother is coming to visit and I'm worried about impressing her. She expects me to be perfect and I just don't think I can deliver. I'm afraid she won't like my lifestyle choices."

"Well, you do live an… alternative lifestyle," Caterpillar droned, emphasizing the word alternative. "But everything you've said in the past about your mother has always been quite positive. What makes you think she won't approve of what you do?"

"Well, she expects me to be perfect all the time," he replied with a shrug. "I don't want to disappoint her."

"Do you think that maybe your mother doesn't expect you to be perfect, but believes that you are in fact perfect as you are?"

Hare paused and laughed at this notion, shaking his head. "If only that were the case!" he explained from his spot upon the mushroom. "She's always pushing me to do more, not to back down… and I'm afraid that I'll mess up and she won't be proud of me."

"Hmm. I see…" the Caterpillar put a gloved finger to his lips, nodding. "This does seem to be a tricky situation for you."

"You wouldn't happen to have a story to tell me, would you?" Hare asked reaching out and peeking into the bag of books the second pair of hands were holding, only to be slapped away.

"No, I'm afraid I don't…" he replied. "But I do have some words of wisdom that may help you."

Hare sat up at attention, listening eagerly.

"A wise man once said, 'A mother's love endures through all'," the Caterpillar said, waiving a finger around in the air as he spoke to punctuate his point. "I think you should be yourself, let your mother see the real you and let her love you for it. Because, after all, you are the only person who can be you."

Hare's shoulders drooped in disappointment, though he tried to hide it. He had wanted a different answer. "So, you're saying that I'm worrying for nothing."

"Precisely," Caterpillar said with a smile.

Hare huffed a little and stood up, brushing himself off as he thought to himself. "Thanks for the help, Caterpillar. I'll have to think about it some more."

Caterpillar watched Hare jog off through the mushroom forest, disappearing behind a tall purple fungi before speaking aloud to himself. "I pray for that woman and what she might experience in that house."

"25:40!" said a voice as Hare stumbled into the Hat house, sweaty and a little out of breath.

"What?" Hare asked, his glasses a little foggy as he looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

"You're time," Hatter said, checking his pocket watch again with a nod. "Yup… 25:40."

"Man, I'm out of shape…"

"I think you're the perfect shape," Hatter said aloud with a smile.

Hare chortled and waved a hand at the Hatter, stumbling his way to the kitchen table and taking a seat. Hatter might have seen a blush on his partner's cheeks, if he wasn't already flushed from running. "I stopped and spoke to the Caterpillar for a little," Hare explained, wiping his glasses on his sweater before replacing them.

"Did he tell you a story? Please share," he said with a smile, dishing up an egg and tomato omelet, bacon and hash browns onto a plate for the Hare and sliding it his way.

"No, not a story. Just some crummy advice."

"Well, that's no fun," Hatter pouted. "What's the fun of visiting the Caterpillar if you don't get a good story out of it?"

Hare shrugged and tucked into his meal, partaking in some toast and strawberry jam with it. He'd asked for some coffee, but was firmly denied any, and settled on Raspberry tea with sugar.

Later that day, the pair were outside at the tea table enjoying the nice spring weather. Hatter had his guitar on his knee and was tuning it, strumming the strings and adjusting the tuning keys as he worked. Hare had his magic trunk out and open, its contents spilling onto the table. He had his EZ Magic Tricks book open and was reading through it, trying to find just the right illusions to add to his act. His nerves were getting frayed again and he was starting to feel overwhelmed.

Hatter noticed this and rested his hand on the guitar, watching Hare flip through the same five pages of the magic book. "You know…" he started, making him jump a little at the sudden sound of his voice. "I can help you choose, if you want help."

Hare wanted to resist the help, but accepted it. Hatter laid the guitar down on the table and scooted over, pushing cups and plates to the floor to make room for himself. He laid on his side so he could look through the book from the same direction as the Hare.

They flipped through the pages, looking at all the Ez detailed images. "Rings would be a nice touch…" Hatter pointed out.

Hare nodded. "And I've practiced the cuff trick. I can try that one again."

"Your mother hasn't seen that one, I guess it'll be alright… you need a big finisher," Hatter said, rotating the book a little more toward him and scanning through the pages quickly. Hare sat back a little, watching Hatter zoom through the book before stopping. "Eureka!"

"My what?" Hare asked in surprise, gazing down at the book.

"This is the one, Hare! Your big finisher." Hatter pointed a finger into the book and tilted it toward him, giving him a good look.

"Oh, Hatter…" he grimaced. "I, uh… I mean…"

"Come on, Hare! It'll be amazing! Can you imagine the look on your mother's face when she sees you pull that trick off!?"

Hare took the book in his hands and looked down at the instructions, scratching his head a little as he read. The trick seemed complicated… and they'd need to build some things in order to do it.

"You sure this belongs in the Ez book?" he muttered to himself.

Gazing up, he saw the excitement in Hatter's eyes and couldn't find it in his heart to disappoint him.

"Okay…" Hare breathed. "What have I got to lose?"

"That's the ticket!" Hatter celebrated, kicking his feet out a little and sending dishware to the ground with a smash.

"The book says we'll need a plant…" Hare rubbed his chin in contemplation. "You think I should pick one from my garden? I have a beautiful bluebell plant that is just about to bloom that might work."

Hatter pursed his lips and leaned back over, looking down at the book again with a furrowed brow. "No, not a plant like a flower! A plant like a helper. Someone in the audience who can help you who knows how the trick works. See?" He pointed to an illustration in the book with a gloved finger.

"Oh, right, I knew that," Hare chuckled nervously, reading the specifications of the type of 'volunteer' he'd need. "I bet I could get Alice to do it."

"She'll probably be around for tonight's tea party. You can talk to her about it then!"

Hare felt a little better about it, he knew he could trust Alice to be able to perform. He'd just have to worry about all the things he needed to do to get the trick to work out right. Flipping to the appendix, he started pulling diagrams and plans out of a hidden compartment in the back of the book, laying them out on the table to read over them. The strumming of the guitar started up again as Hatter began to play.

"We need to pick up the dry cleaning," Hare said as they got off the Wonderland bus the next day. "I dropped some things off for us earlier this week and I'm sure they're ready by now."

"Oh, well that's nice…" Hatter smiled, holding onto Hare's hand as they walked. "Where else are we going on our little trip into the city?"

"Just the Market. Alice said she'd be by early today to help with practice so we don't really have time to mess around." Hare was looking down at his grocery list in his free hand, making mental notes as they walked.

Hatter pouted, glancing around at all the shops he'd have liked to wander through. He stopped to peer in the window of some thrift shop and looked into it longingly, holding Hare back a little. "But I love messing around…"

Hare laughed and shook his head, pulling Hatter along to the Market. They walked in through the automatic doors and grabbed a shopping cart, pausing a moment by the self-serve Olive bar as Hare flipped through his grocery list.

"Don't forget, we need to get the usual stuff too," Hatter said, leaning on the cart with his feet up on the bar of the bottom basket. He watched Hare start to walk away before calling out. "Hare! Pull me!"

Hare looked up at him, a little annoyed already, but rolled his eyes and returned. "Fine, but only if you pull me later…" he griped, grabbing the front of the shopping cart and tugging it along behind him.

They made their way down the various aisles, grabbing the things they needed and tossing them into the bin. Hatter got caught up in the jam isle, trying to decide if he wanted to get more lemon marmalade or orange rhubarb jam for the table.

"Hare, you should learn to make jams and jellies and things…" Hatter said aloud, taking the orange rhubarb and placing it in the cart. "I bet you'd be good at it."

"I used to make wild berry jam with my Mom from the berries we had in our garden when I was young," Hare shrugged from inside the shopping cart, checking off items from his list. He was laying in the big basket and had his legs scrunched up, his feet hanging over the side as Hatter pushed him. "I can teach you sometime."

Hatter agreed. "That sounds pretty fun! Let's schedule that for three weeks from Wednesday."

"Noted!" Hare said, jotting it down in his calendar.

They continued to shop, making their way to the produce section when a tall white bunny came into view. Hatter and Hare stopped, glanced at each other with wicked grins on their faces, and made their way to him. They snuck up behind him as he was sniffing some carrots, looking very hungry.

"Nice day, Rabbit," Hatter said loudly from Rabbit's right, causing him to jump a little, almost losing his balance on his skates. He had dropped all the veggies he had in his hands though, sending them scattering on the floor. His brow was furrowed as he looked to the source of his freight, his shoulders dropping a little.

"What are you two doing here?" Rabbit said, flustered. He looked like he had already had a very long day and the last thing he wanted to deal with were these two dingle-berries

"Why, shopping of course!" Hare chuckled from the basket of the cart, struggling to pull his body out of it. He flopped around a little, cans and groceries falling in on him and keeping him in place. He eventually gave up and reached his arms out to Hatter, giving a small whimper.

"The Queen busting your balls today, Rabbit?" Hatter asked as he lifted the Hare out of the cart, helping him to his feet.

"No more than usual-" Rabbit started, but stopped himself and shook his head a little. "Why are you two bothering me? Don't you have things to be doing right now? Hare, isn't your mother coming tomorrow?"

"Oh, Rabbit, can't we come say hello to you when we run into you in public?" Hare asked, a goofy smile on his face as he put one hand on his hip, the other on Rabbit's shoulder. Rabbit grimaced and lifted the yellow hand from his body, looking at it like he didn't want to know where it had been.

'It's almost like you're ashamed to know us…" Hatter remarked, shaking his head.

"I'm on a time crunch and I don't have time to mess around. The Queen is expecting a full spread for dinner tonight and she wants me to give her a mani pedi while she watches The Bachelor tonight. And that's on top of everything else I have going on." Rabbit had stooped down and picked up the produce he dropped on the ground, placing them in a hand basket as he spoke. He was picking up an onion and placing it in his basket when Hatter pounced on him.

"What a coincidence! We're on a time crunch too!" He had a bright smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around Rabbit's shoulder, pulling him in close and almost off the ground. "How about we shop together and help each other out? It'll save time and be much more efficient."

"I can help you pick out some produce!" Hare offered, reaching out to the apples with an eager hand. "I'm good at picking out the fresh ones."

Rabbit's face puckered and he shook his head, remembering the last time he'd taken them with him to the grocery store. "No… I believe I can manage. Thank you~."

"Well, don't say we never tried to do anything for ya," Hatter said indignantly, a fake pout on his face.

Rabbit dusted himself off and shook a little, maybe to vent some frustration. "Now, if you don't mind-" he started, only to be stopped by Hatter again.

"So, did you think about the talent show at all? What are you going to do for your act?"

Rabbit put a hand to his temples, just wanting to get along with his day and away from this duo's shenanigans. "I told you already, I am far too busy to participate in something as trivial as a talent show. Unlike the two of you, I must work for a living. And the Queen is a very demanding woman."

"Oh, come on Rabbit! Don't be a spoiled sport." Hatter said, scrunching up his lips in mock disappointment. "Everyone else will be doing an act. You'll be left out if you don't do something."

"Yeah, and my Mom will be there," Hare added. "Wouldn't you like to show off a little for her? Maybe you'll get lucky. She's single..." he jabbed Rabbit in the ribs jokingly, giving him a playful wink.

The Rabbit grimaced and glanced at the Hare with what would almost be described as a look of complete disgust. The last thing he would ever want to do, would be to 'get' with anyone that this thing came out of.

"Even the Caterpillar is participating," Hatter added, looking in the Rabbit's basket and removing the carrots and some other vegetables, putting them back on the shelf unnoticed. "You'll be sorry…"

The Rabbit just wanted to be out of this duo's company "Alright!" he snapped, causing both Hatter and Hare to look at him with alarm. "I'll think about it, are you happy!? My carrots! All…" he looked down into his basket, noticing that it was half empty. "My carrots? Where are my carrots? And my celery? And the jicama?" His attention had been taken away from the pair and he was now looking around the produce department for his lost veggies.

"Oh, and now we're being ignored! Real mature, Rabbit! We can take a hint!" Hatter said, waving his hands in the air. "Come on, Hare. We have more shopping to do anyway." He then took hold of the handle of the shopping cart and stood on the bottom basket bar, Hare gripping the front of the cart and pulling him out of the produce department.

It took them five minutes to realize they hadn't gathered any fruits or vegetables and returned to the department, but dashed around to try to stay out of sight of Rabbit. He, of course, knew what they were doing and tried his best to ignore them. It was hard when he passed them with their heads lined up among the pineapples, trying not to be noticed.

When they were done squeezing oranges and sniffing cantaloupes, they made their way to the checkout line. Hare took out his envelope of coupons and had them at the ready when they got to the cashier. Hatter peeked into Hare's wallet and saw that it was mostly filled with photos of the two of them (and one of his mother), a barber shop punch card and his Movie Land Video membership card, as well as a blood donor card that said his blood type was O+. After adding a last minute purchase of two candy bars to their order, they loaded their arms up with their bags and set out on their way to the dry cleaners.

"Were you really insinuating that Rabbit should try to impress your mother while we were talking to him in the store just now?" Hatter asked, munching on his chocolate bar. At the time he hadn't thought it strange, he was in doofus mode and was mostly trying to give Rabbit a hard time, but thinking about it now it left a weird taste in his mouth. And it wasn't the chocolate he was nibbling.

"I was just yanking his chain," Hare shrugged his shoulders, brushing it off. "I mean, it's not like my Mother would be interested anyway. This is Rabbit we're talking about. He isn't really her type."

Hatter considered this and bobbed his head a little in agreement before scarfing down the rest of his candy bar.

Hare laid in bed later that night, staring at the yellow walls, the Hatter snuggled up against his side as he slept. He knew he'd be up half the night because of his nerves. The past couple days had been relaxing and smooth enough to take the edge off, but he still had that pit in his stomach. Something would go wrong, he knew it. It always did.

He ran through all the plans in his head, calculating what he could do to minimize mistakes. In all honesty, he wasn't worried about the tea party. They had prepared all the tarts and they were in the deep freezer in the basement, waiting to be baked up fresh tomorrow. All the makings of the sandwiches were in the fridge and they'd pick up their order from Just Add Sugar tomorrow on the way to the train station. It was the magic act he was more worried about. He'd only managed to do half the tricks correctly when he and Alice had practiced them and got so nervous that he handcuffed his wrist to his ankle somehow. And the big showstopper he never managed to get right! Oh, why had he agreed with the Hatter to do this?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he looked at the round alarm clock next to him on the bedside table, squinting his eyes to read the time. It was late he really needed to sleep.

Wiggling down a little, he burrowed into the covers, causing Hatter to stir a little beside him.

"It's okay, Hare," he mumbled, half asleep as he gave the bunny a squeeze. "We have another jar of pickles in the fridge."

"Hare, you need to take a seat and try to relax," Hatter remarked, watching his friend pace around the tea table once again. "You look like you dug into the caffeine again."

"My Mother will be here in," Hare paused and looked at his watch, nose twitching. "Two hours, fifteen minutes and 12 seconds. How can I not panic?!"

Hatter rolled his eyes and stirred his morning tea lazily, adding another cube of sugar to it. "Just calm down and breathe, it'll be okay." He was focusing on the tea so much he didn't notice when the Hare took a harmonica out of his pocket and started to breath in and out of it, filling the air with the shrill sound. Hatter watched him silently, a brow cocked, sipping from his teacup.

The Dormouse peeped out of his teapot, tiny hands gripping the rim and head swirling around. "What is that noise?"

"The Hare is having a breakdown," Hatter mentioned casually. "Give him a couple minutes and he'll calm down."

Dormouse blinked and glanced at the Hare, who was still wheezing into the harmonica. "If this is going to be a regular thing, I might have to look for another teapot. If the hills are alive with this sound of music, I don't think I'll be able to stand it."

Hatter nodded. "How true that is," he said as he got to his feet, striding up behind his friend and reaching around to pluck the harmonica out of his hands, tossing it over his shoulder into the bushes. "Don't worry so much. The house is clean, your place is all prepared, and this afternoon's tea party will be a success. Everyone already told us they were going to be here early, so all you have to do is bring your Mom." Leaning forward, he gave his Hare a peck on the cheek.

The Hare sighed, his shoulders dropping a little as he scrunched his face up. He knew he was overreacting but he couldn't help it. "My Mother expects a lot out of me, only the best. I just want to make her proud. And I want her to approve of us."

"And she will," the Hatter patted him on the shoulders, giving them a squeeze before letting them go. "I think you need some camomile tea and a little sit down. Maybe if you're good, I'll let you help me set the table with your cups and saucers for tonight."

"I do love camomile…" Hare managed, taking a seat and grabbing a scone, not fully intending to eat any of it. He had too many butterflies in his stomach and none of them were hungry either.

After managing to get some calming tea in his system, Hatter decided he'd let the Hare help with setting the table. All the gifted tea sets had been washed the night before and were gleaming in their boxes as they were brought out.

"Now to just clear the table," Hatter announced, lifting his arms up to swipe the current settings onto the ground.

"Hatter, no!" Hare threw himself over the tea table, covering the cups and saucers in the process, hearing a few of them crack under his weight.

Hatter dropped his arms at his sides, brow furrowed. "What's the problem now?"

"What would my mother think if she saw you being careless with your things? She'd find it unnecessarily unruly!"

"How true that is," Hatter said, putting a finger to his chin as he considered it. "So, no throwing things. Anything else?"

"Just…" Hare heaved, getting up from the table and dusting himself off. "Try to keep in control. Don't get too crazy. My Mother likes order and discipline. If she sees you acting wild, she might get the wrong idea."

"So, you don't like me acting crazy now?"

Hare stopped suddenly, his eyes growing wide as he realized what it sounded like. "No no no, I love you being crazy! You're my Mad Hatter and I don't want you any other way. I just don't think my Mother will appreciate it as much as I do."

The Hatter tried to look offended but he simply couldn't. He knew the Hare meant well and just wanted to impress. Plus he looked so cute when he was wound up tight as a drum.

"I'll try my best, but I make no promises," he joked, giving his Hare a peck on the lips. "Were you like this when your mother met all your other partners, or am I just lucky?"

"Oh…" Hare's face went red as a nervous laugh slipped from his lips. "She didn't exactly meet too many of them. Not that I've had many."

Hatter smirked and shook his head, not surprised in the slightest about his answer.

Hare stood on the train station platform, his shoes shined and his suit pressed, holding a bouquet of pansies from his own garden, tied together with a yellow ribbon. He kept bouncing on his toes, a bundle of nerves. Hatter felt that it was a good thing he had decided to come with him to the station, he was pretty sure his pal was going to take off like a rocket if there wasn't someone there holding him down. He was seated on a bench on the platform, a couple pink boxes from Just Add Sugar next to him as well as a box of handmade chocolates. "Hare, why don't you take a seat? The train is only a few minutes late."

"I can't sit, I'm just too nervous!" he squeaked, biting at his thumb as he looked up and down the track. "Remind me again why we're doing this?"

"Because if we're going to take our relationship to the next level I'm going to have to eventually meet your mother. And now is as good a time as any." Hatter reached his long arm and grasped Hare's hand, holding it to try to calm him down a little. It didn't seem to work. "Come and sit."

"I think maybe a year from next July would be a better day," Hare wheezed and moved to dash off the platform when a loud whistle made the pair jump. They turned to see the train pull up to the station, steam streaming from the smokestack. The train pulled in to a stop, pausing and then jolting forward once before the doors flung open. Hare stood there, fidgeting, waiting to see his mother come out of the double doors. When she didn't, he looked at the Hatter with a worried expression and dashed in to search for her.

It didn't take long before they appeared on the landing, June holding the bouquet of flowers in her gloved hands and the Hare dragging her obscenely large amount of luggage behind them.

"How was your trip?" The Hare asked his mother, attempting to lift her bags up onto his shoulder.

"It was marvelous, very relaxing," she crooned in her squeaky voice. June was fussing over him as they walked, adjusting his bow tie and pushing his bangs away from his eyes. "Although the guard kept harassing me for my ticket every stop. He was very rude."

The two approached Hatter and paused, looking up at him expectantly. He had gotten to his feet and met them halfway down the landing, holding the boxes of sugary goodies in his arms.

"Mom, this is the Mad Hatter."

Hatter could definitely see the family resemblance. She looked exactly like the Hare, only with a grey hairdo and lipstick. It was almost off putting.

"June!" Hatter beamed, thrusting a box of chocolate covered carrots in her direction. "So nice to finally meet you!"

June Hare smiled at the Hatter. "Oh, Hatter. Yes, it's lovely to finally meet you too. I've only ever spoken to you over the telephone." She seemed to give him a quick once over, her eyes scanning him for any imperfections in his dress or demeanor. She didn't give any indication that something was wrong, so the Hatter figured he was in the clear. "And thank you for these, I'm sure they're delicious."

"Hare and I made them ourselves," Hatter beamed, looking at his buddy. "From your family recipe, I believe."

The Hare looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown, but he was keeping it together. He kept balling his little hands up, fidgeting with his fingers behind his back. Hatter thought he looked adorable.

"That's very sweet of you," June mused, tucking the box under her arm as the group left the station and walked their way to Hare's house. About halfway there, Hatter took some of June's luggage from his boyfriend to give his arms a break.

June seemed charmed by Hare's little home. She thought the garden was impressive and oohed and awed as they entered the tiny abode. They settled her in Hare's guest room, leaving her bags there as they gave her a tour. Hare thought he'd faint when he saw her do a glove test on the top of some of his bookshelves, but it seemed he had passed her test because she didn't say anything.

About halfway through the tour, Hatter took out his golden pocket watch to check the time. "I should probably get home and get the tea brewing," he whispered to Hare as his mother stepped out of the room.

"Okay…" Hare whined, not wanting to be left alone. He was still a bundle of nerves, constantly afraid his mother would find something out of place for him to fix.

Hatter smiled and gave his hare a kiss on the cheek to calm him a little. "She got here safe, she seems happy with everything… try to relax."

"I'll try," he huffed, managing a weak smile. "I'll bring her over in about an hour."

"I'll see you then," he replied with a wink before speaking out loud. "I'm going to head home and get the tea started, June. I'll see you there in a bit."

"That will be nice," June replied from the next room. They found her in the kitchen standing on a chair, rotating all the cans in the pantry so their labels faced forward.

"Oh no…" Hare moaned. "Mom, stop. Leave those…"

#fanfic #adventures in wonderland #aiw #guess who's coming for tea #gwcft

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heroinkspots · 5 years ago

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Catharsis; Aizawa / Reader

SUMMARY ( You knew the man you loved could die. You were certain you had accepted it, had moved on from the constant anxiety that makes heroes insomniacs. But when you visit Aizawa in the hospital post-USJ Incident, you’re smacked with the reality there are some losses you can’t help but dread, yet zero you can prevent. )

One finger down.

Breathe.

Two fingers.

Breaking News: Erasure Hero Gets Critically Injured in USJ Aftermath, Current Condition Unknown!

Up next on Channel 86: at five o'clock, Dr. Oishi Hotaka and Dr. Yasuda Kurou broadcast live to discuss the recent developments about the USJ Incident and the repercussions for hero society going forward.

Three.

"I respect your opinion on this matter, Kurou-san, but I personally don't believe Japan can continue with the current status quo! UA's safety standards have declined dramatically in the past few decades, and their negligence will go on for as long as the public and the parents of these students allow it- which, I dare say, won't be long at all. Not long at all, my friend. We'll soon see that what we're giving these children, in UA and across the country in similar hero academies, is a subpar education, with more risks than benefits..and the most horrifying of these risks now includes the potential of their life being stolen from them at fifteen, sixteen years old."

”Well, that signals the end of our slot for tonight, viewers! Join us here next week for a live conference meeting of—"

F..four.

That announcer was right. He was scarily right. Civilians could turn off their television should they be the smallest bit uncomfortable while they were watching their heroes sacrifice their sanity, their every selfish human desire and sometimes even their lives to protect the masses that watcher belonged to.

To them, Shota was a headline. He was a vague concept, a will 'o wisp leading them home to a sense of safety, but he couldn't be felt with the hands nor seen with the eyes nor experienced with the heart. He was so underground you doubted they could recall his name without having it spoonfed to them by another copycat, know-it-all Dr. Oishi Hotaka reading off a script designed to spark outrage instead of reasonable thought. Introspection didn't sell well. Introspection didn't toss TV show hosts intriguing material to cover and it didn't grant jobs to reporters.

The truth was a bitter pill nobody liked to swallow. And if citizens didn't like the truth, they'd switch to a different channel to hear white noise that tasted good; and the Hotakas couldn't afford that, could they?

Five fingers you'd used up.

He had broken thirteen separate bones–nearly a third of the fingers you'd used so far for this stupid counting exercise. You had heard a summary of the damage from his doctors prior to standing where you stood now, and you had memorized it like a prayer of thanksgiving.

Shota couldn't be hurt if he was dead. Only a living man had the privilege of suffering pain. And dead..dead was your worst nightmare. The imaginary picture of his cold corpse made crippling injury seem like a reverie of inconceivable fortune in comparison.

Six.

Crushed orbital floor, fractured clavicle, nasal fracture, parietal bone oblique fractures, severe left elbow fractures (segmental break in his humerus bone, fractures half as destructive in his radius and ulna), one direct skull fracture—

Thirteen bones, thirteen of your fucking failures.

Seven.

You knew not to overreact. That was why you and Shota had gotten along brilliantly to begin with. You weren't a clingy partner who longed to ensure he was safe to your exacting requirements, but a fellow hero in his stead, laser-focused on furthering your ambitious climb to the top and holding down your position within the twenties once you had garnered your status. You respected him and how obviously reserved he could be, embracing his trepidation about placing himself in the spotlight as a virtue instead of a flaw..and for that, mutual respect bloomed into love in your second year of UA.

You and him had persevered because you were identically persevering personalities. You solved your arguments fairly and calmly, you conceded to his wishes and him to yours, crafting compromises and tempering spots of flickering flame before they could graze gasoline. You took pride in the fact that you knew the consequence of your professions, and you were willing to take his loss with his love.

Your logic couldn't have prepared you for USJ.

Shota Aizawa, that quiet, seemingly stern and uncaring, infuriating, loyal and self-sacrificing son of a bitch hadn't just gone out and danced with Death; he'd preformed a suspiciously intimate tango with her, gotten her number, invited her out for drinks and kissed her on the mouth when their date concluded.

And there was little logic to be found in the strong Pro Hero reduced to incomprehensible sobbing and bawling in the hospital breakroom mere minutes earlier.

Eight.

You'd cried so heavily you had to muffle your mouth with your sweater so passing staff wouldn't be alerted to the sounds of your emotional breakdown. Feeling that fabric grow damp and sticky with the flood of your agonized tears, the humilation stung at you, but it was faint and trivial when measured against the surge of your dominant emotions: anger–anger at yourself, anger at the villains who would target and hunt children purely to force a pathway to All Might, anger at this world which normalized casualty and tragedy; fear that this was the beginning of the so-called Villain League's attacks and that Shota, and by extension, you, would be at the forefront of countless battles; and the knowledge that your Pro license didn't do a damn thing for you.

Could you genuinely label yourself a Hero if you couldn't save your lover of a decade?

It wasn't a lack of faith on your behalf, or you discounting his abilities–you were aware of his skill. You saw how he built himself up to be the highly specialized, skilled Eraserhead; but regardless of how formidable the person, you would pity the unfortunate soul who had the might of Hell and high water bearing down on their head.

You would pity yourself in that situation too.

Nine. Last finger to put down.

You had counted so you could collect yourself, present a solid face to Shota when you finally entered his room, but your efforts were in vain. Your eyes were damp again, and you rubbed them furiously on your sleeve, the irritated rims puffing out from the blood rushing to your temple. Shota's voice rang out- you were effectively busted.

"Come in."

The abruptness made you release a watery chuckle. The recovery room's observation window was advertised as being "one-way," as if that would hinder your lover's keen perception of his surroundings. His demonstration of sharpness eased your concerns to a degree. After all, dead bodies were usually less talkative and dumber than he was being..but you wanted to, no, needed to see him desperately.

"I came as soon as I heard what happened." Your voice shook when your gaze locked with his, peering through the stiff bandaged cast at you, one eyelid firmly shut and quivering with the other parted lazily and projecting an unshakable confidence in your direction. Shota's resolve wasn't frigid indifference but rather reliability, a slowly seeping warmth you could fall back on whenever standing by yourself felt impossible. He looked at you as if you were the wounded party between the pair of you, as if he could tell you wanted to run and he was convincing you you didn't have to–because his relentless determination would stay permanently untouched, and so would he. Unchanging, reassuring.

"But I was already on the plane when I received the news, so I..dammit, I was helpless. I..I just sat there, Shota. Sat there and watched as the headlines rolled in, as the media scrambled for some coherent information to pump out. I sat there for an awful twelve hours– that's how much time it took me to get a one-stop plane ride back to Japan and land. And by then, USJ was completely cleared of people. I heard you were in the hospital and had to track you down out of all the fucking confidential hero hospitals you could potentially be in." You balled your fists in your hair, working a dent into the floor beneath you from your agitated pacing.

You nervously glanced at him before averting your eyeline to the walls. Shame curled within you. "I had no idea where you were located, whether you were dead or injured or comatose," you whispered weakly.

Shota cleared his throat, and although it was dry, scratchy and emerged mainly as a pained gurgling bursting from his chest, your attention was on him anyway. Your head snapped towards him and you flinched as you saw him struggling to prop himself up in the bed. You rushed forward to help, but he fared on his own, evenutally pushing himself into a sitting position with the pillows for extra padding to keep him stable. He stared at you wordlessly, his mouth drawn taut in a frustrated, sad grimace until he patted the bed beside him for you to sit.

You agreed.

"We've had this conversation before, you know," he mumbled into your shoulder. You startled, your muscles jerking at the tickling sensation of his bandage wrap. That minute detail almost caused you to tumble into hysterics once more. Shit, it was annoying and the reflex was inconvenient, but it was a beacon of hope that you could be annoyed–the rubbing and tickling told you Shota's going to be okay since, look, you had the evidence of repair brushing against you to remind you. Persistently.

"We have?" You promoted him, nudging him with the gentleness you would save for a young child.

Shota sighed, puffing air through his nose, and sobered up fast; his demeanor returned to serious thoughtfulness as he straightened, his stature strangely close to traditional etiquette despite being bedridden. You waited in anticipation for him to gather himself and speak.

"We have. When we were twenty year olds rookies with brains thicker than concrete. I was dwelling on a mother and son I had failed to save in a rescue from months before. But it was you who told me– 'the past is worthless until you use it to improve your future, Aizawa, and it becomes worse than worthless when you allow it to impede your future. That mother and her little boy wouldn't want their memory to hold you back from becoming the hero I'm certain you can be. It's doing a disservice to them if you don't take advantage of those mistakes to avoid repeating them.'"

You froze. "Shota, that's not the same situation and you know it's not. I..goddammit, I was lost and confused in a foreign country fighting for a way to get back and I couldn't contact you, I couldn't figure out who made it through, you or the kids or All Might. Or Thirteen. There's a considerable disparity between that and immediate, subconscious mistakes you make in the field. That was no mistake-that was a gaping lack of oversight on my part. That was failure."

Shota raised his brow, unimpressed. "Fine, then. You failed.”

"So what?"

"So you become better for the sake of the people you believe you failed."

You felt like smacking your head against the bed frame. Him and his logical ruses, God. Never giving ground to you, but countering you with few words delivered concisely and setting you up to arrive at a preplanned destination but changing your course before you could catch up to where he'd cleverly spun the talk this round. You couldn't muster exasperation when you glared at him, however–your glare melted into fondness at the minuscule grin he wore and the overwhelming exhaustion and tenderness beneath his layer of amusement.

You were tired and hungry, Shota was tired and hungry, and you ached to hug him and refuse to let go forever.

You could start on attaining your ideal existence by filling your stomach.

"Hey, do you want food?" Affirmative grunt. "Would you like me to go get some?" Equally affirmative grunt. With his enthusiastic approval, you left his designated room and wandered throughout the hospital. It took longer than you would have supposed, but you came back to greet him with armfuls of instant ramen, oden, and sugary treats you bought solely to indulge yourself but tried to frame as 'purchases for two'.

"I brought you the fanciest cuisine they have avaliable in their vending machines," you said. Shota snorted as you dumped the packages across the visitor's chair and gently dropped into your place beside him on the bed, careful not to hit him or disturb his wounds.

Your hand wound up to the crown of his head, where your hand tangled into the strands of his hair, fingers squeezing the tangled mess it was. "Can I tempt you?" You muttered into his ear.

He hummed noncommitally, his lips quirking. "I trust you." You had to restrain yourself from smiling so wide that you scared off your quarry, a pleased smugness rising from how naturally and freely he delivered that.

His humming turned from casual to an evident sign of contentment as your faithful ministrations endured for a while. It wasn't quite normalcy with how you tucked the pads of your fingers in so they wouldn't grace his forehead and circled a cautious breadth around all regions of his face, but it was adequate to drive your fears into some rarely ventured corner of your mind to torture you at a later date.

Definitely became more adequate when Shota passed out draped on your form. He was slouching, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and his unharmed right hand motionless on your leg. When you shuffled subtly to get a nicer angle and actually see the wonderful sight you had achieved, he groaned in protest, and you couldn't find it in yourself to attempt to leave when he was smiling. Deviously soft, and oblivious to your judgment–he was smiling in his sleep.

Most who had to deal with him would deal with Aizawa, the hardass teacher or Aizawa, the workaholic who could be seen bent over his laptop at ungodly hours of morning and night grading papers and drafting reports for his principal. Some unlucky fools would be pursued by him and would be petrified when Eraserhead's eerie crimson irises fell upon them, stripping them of the controlled sense of superiority they clung to as their refuge.

But you knew a secret an extremely select few were privy to. You knew that his shell was dense and tough yet brittle, a personification of intimidating traits he adopted when they served him, and he was a bleeding heart for the victims of the world who couldn't fight for themselves, for those children he taught who had glinting stars inside them he would never permit to be stamped out.

And that was why you were terrified. Because you knew he was breakable.

#bnha #mha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #aizawa #aizawa/reader #angst #is this my cursed trash brainchild #yes #do I hate it #it made me wanna cry #do I regret it..no #request from me #if you’d like #I promise I don’t bite #personal works #alternative tag could be self-indulgence

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thosehard-facedqueens-blog · 5 years ago

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Restoring Your Garden Trampoline

With spring about upon us, a large number of you will currently be wandering into the garden to clean up and get ready for the new Season. On the off chance that you have a trampoline and it's looking a little drained after the long virus winter, here are a few hints to help reestablish it to its previous brilliance.

youtube

Trampoline Frames

The trampoline outline is at the core of the trampoline for its safety and execution. It is fundamental that the casing is in acceptable condition. It might be conceivable in the event that you discover harm or consumption to source another part and supplant that segment yet on the off chance that this is absurd, or the edge is past monetary fix, you will most likely need to scrap it. Assess the casing cautiously. Search for erosion from water that has inside the trampoline ring and is causing rust from within which probably won't be effectively obvious yet causing a debilitating of the trampoline outline. Numerous modest trampolines won't electrify within the trampoline tubing and this leaves them at risk to disappointment thusly.

On the off chance that the trampoline has a welded outline check the state of the welds cautiously to guarantee there is no crack. This is a typical zone for the trampoline to come up short, maybe from over-burdening or just from a low quality weld.

This is the most significant region for checking as a casing could come up short while being used prompting a potential genuine physical issue for any individual who is using it at that point.

Trampoline Jump Mat

The trampoline tangle may have gaps in it brought about by things falling on it like branches or firecrackers (a typical offender!) or even a cigarette end. The trampoline tangle (or jump tangle as it is now and then known) can be supplanted. You should know the size of your trampoline, its state and the quantity of springs it needs to append to. You may likewise require a spring device to expel the old trampoline tangle and introduce the upgraded one. It tends to be difficult work to do this without a spring apparatus. Ensure that any new trampoline tangle is made of An evaluation Permatron Polypropylene, which is UV safe, and sewn with UV safe string. The V rings to append to the springs ought to likewise be stirred to forestall rust.

Recall when you evacuate the old skip tangle to remove the springs in even stages around the edge in order to keep up the strain over the ricochet tangle equitably until you just have four springs left appending it at 12, 3, 6 and 9 o'clock, at that point at long last expel these. When introducing the new tangle start by putting these four springs on first and afterward develop the strain by slowly putting springs on to part the holes. You will discover this makes it a lot simpler when you go to the last ones.

Trampoline Springs

Your trampoline springs may have gotten over extended or eroded after some time and require substitution. You should know what number of springs your trampoline needs, and the length of these when they are very still (to do this you have to evacuate one that is in the best condition and not over extended). Measure the full length of the spring from the external edges of the snares at either end.

You may need to arrange a spring instrument to assist you with expelling the old ones and introduce the new ones. See the "skip tangle" area of this article for guidelines on the technique to utilize while evacuating and reinstalling countless the springs one after another.

Try not to be enticed to utilize a spring that is an unexpected length in comparison to those you have. It will make the exhibition of your trampoline be diminished fundamentally.

Trampoline Net/Trampoline Enclosure

The trampoline net can get harmed in high breezes if garden trash is blown into it or perhaps the trampoline has been blown over and the safety nook got harmed all the while. The net can likewise be harmed by children talking it while they are jumping and pulling it down.

With certain plans of trampoline walled in area it is difficult to supplant the netting alone and a totally different trampoline safety fenced in area should be bought. In any case, a few providers offer the netting independently to accommodate their own plan of trampoline and this may likewise fit some different makes.

On the off chance that a portion of the trampoline nook posts, top tops or sleeves are missing, or harmed, at that point these can without much of a stretch be supplanted too instead of purchasing a totally different trampoline walled in area pack.

Trampoline Spring Padding

Presumably the most probable part to require supplanting on your trampoline is the spring cushioning. Throughout the years the texture, anyway all around made, will fall apart under solid daylight and in substantial breezes. The chilly climate can likewise make it fragile which brings about it splitting. It is significant not to utilize the trampoline with no spring cushioning as somebody could fall on the casing and get a physical issue on the off chance that it isn't secured.

Numerous modest trampolines utilize a PE material which will presumably require supplanting every year as the material will in general break in the daylight. Spending somewhat more on better quality spring cushioning can save cash over the long haul.

Trampoline Cover

In future, a decent tip is to evacuate the spring cushioning toward the finish of the period to shield it from the components. On the other hand purchase a trampoline spread to give added insurance to the entire trampoline. The trampoline spread will help secure the skip tangle, springs, spring cushioning and somewhat the edge likewise by forestalling precipitation water getting inside the tubing. A few people breakdown the safety fenced in area on to the focal point of the trampoline toward the finish of the Autumn and spread the entire thing with the trampoline spread.

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bluehhj · 6 years ago

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listen to me — chapter 27

LISTEN TO ME — 0027

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.9K

Chan wept not only the pitangas*, but also all the fruits of the fruit bow. It wasn't possible that someone had such bad luck!

"And her boyfriend got there all of a sudden, all handsome, looked like a model," — he sniffed as he talked about his fateful discovery about the hot girl at the hospital being compromised. Not that he was surprised, since fate loved to preach those plays to him, but he could swear that the smiles that that girl had sent him eventually wanted to say something... Probably, that he was a fool. — "It looked like those movie scenes, you know? Where he hugs her around the waist and gives that amazing kiss for everyone to see that they're a perfect couple. Even Seungmin must've laughed at my defeated face!" — Chan remembered Kim's indecipherable expression as he let the stethoscope drop to the floor. He also stationed in the same hospital, and although they had never had any disagreements, Chan thought that even that forgotten plant at the front desk was making fun of his personal failure. — "I feel cheated again!"

Lee Felix, who was sitting on the other side of the table, looked at his new friend in a way that should've been a little comfortable, but he also suffered so much from those damn breakdowns that he didn't even know what to do with his own life, nor with that of others.

Felix had requested transfer to the same college of Chan and that was the first day that he attended the lessons of the course of Medicine with the new class. Alas, he was already gifted by a double work without even getting a tiny salute from the professors, and Chan, who was sitting next to him, noticing how much the rookie looked lost, asked if they could do it together. Felix just missed wrapping him in a hug. Usually he wasn't so easy to make friends — for some reason, people always thought he was a bit strange (?) — what could've caused a headache if Chan hadn't been a good person and helped a soul in need of attention. So much attention, so to say.

It took forty minutes together and half a work done for Felix to start pouring out his frustrations as if they had been friends for a long time. His girlfriend had dumped him, so he was needy and immensely sad the last few days. The plan was to meet at five, after Chan had left the internship, and tried to finish the work until seven, but it was nearly nine o'clock and all they both knew how to do was cry — after Felix opened his wounded heart, Chan began to identifying with him and having his feelings rummaged by what appeared to be a giant blender, consequently urging him to talk about his frustrations as well, emphasizing the latter.

All that was missing was a bottle of soju and music for cuckold.

"That's why I detest some women" — gripping one of Bang's hands lightly, Felix sniffed and wiped the corner of his eyes with a napkin he'd recently purchased. — "No offense," — he said to Jade, who now only watched the two of them from the counter while making juice. She had tried to use her words from a near-graduate psychologist to console them in the last half hour, but it didn't seem to do much good. — "You're nice."

"Huh... Thank you?" — the american replied hesitantly. On the one hand, she was happy that Chan had arranged a friend, but the other was worried that the same friend would be so melancholic. Two melancholics together never ended in good. — "You're nice too, I guess."

"Really?" — the australian smiled suddenly. — "Not everyone says that, thank you!"

"... You're welcome."

At that moment, the front door made a noise and those in the kitchen waited until the person in charge showed up. It was inevitable for Felix not to let his jaw drop.

"May I know where you were until that time?" — Jade asked as soon as she saw Jinah enter the room, as if she were unnie there. However, everything became clearer as the figure of Jisung also entered her field of vision.

"In the church, of course," — Choi replied as she got rid of her uncomfortable tie. — "Praying for the Holy Spirit."

"With that swollen mouth?"

"That's not my fault."

Jisung let out a small "oh" when Jinah sent him a meaningful look with a wink. He was totally embarrassed by such attitudes.

Jade could already imagine the rest of the story. It'd start with dates, kisses here and there, nighttime visits and, when she realized, Jisung would already be sprawled out on the living room sofa. That way they'd have to rent a bigger apartment.

"What?" — Jinah asked when she finally noticed Chan's emotional situation. — "That girl from the hospital already has someone?"

He didn't want to be so predictable.

"My love for her started so random and ended even more..." — he lamented, drawing disjointed things on the sheet of notebook on the table. — "By the way, this is Felix, we met today," — his eyes met those of the younger boy, who by then had already blessed the newcomers mentally and returned to normal. — "This is Jinah, my friend, and that is Jisung, the... How can I call?"

"It's something undefined, I get it" — Felix laughed when Jinah opened her mouth, but couldn't find the right word, at the same time Jisung seemed to have received a flip-flop on both cheeks. — "Nice to meet you."

The doorbell rang and Jade, supposing it was the pizza, left the kitchen while the others settled on the table and exchanged receptive words. In the meantime, Changbin came out of the bath cheerfully, with a wide smile decorating his face.

"I loved the internship, being close to all those cute little kids is so cute!" — he said with his hands on his cheeks, resulting in a discreet grimace coming from Jisung. — "There are also the older ones, but I confess that little ones are my favorites!"

"But..." — Han whispered to Jinah, who could only hear because they were sitting close to each other. — "He's not like that, that's wrong."

"I told you that the impression you had of him was wrong," — Choi whispered back. — "But you don't believe the things I say."

"It must be because you're always talking nonsense"

"Boy, you can be sure that when I start talking real nonsense you'll know."

"And one of them even called me Binnie!" — Changbin continued his story, causing Chan and Felix to stop crying and start laughing and commenting on. It was just another day almost normal.

Having the two boxes of pizza on the table — one of chicken and the other of chocolate —, Jade took the jar of ice-cold orange juice that rested on the counter and began to serve the glasses. As soon as she went to deliver Jisung's, her gaze took on a deeper depth, like the look of a suspicious mother lurking in her son's first girlfriend.

Han stared at the glass for a moment, then turned to the american: — "There's no poison, right?"

"The will to kill you is no bigger than my willingness to spend money on so little."

"Jade!" — Jinah scolded.

"He started it!"

"I didn't start anything!" — retorted Jisung. — "You who kept staring at me with that angry face."

"But it's your fault!" — the american stamped her foot.

"I wasn't even looking at you. If your problem is jealous of Jinah, you can keep it to yourself!"

"She can?" — Choi's expression became sad, but she was promptly ignored in the middle of the argument.

"I'm not jealous of Jinah!" — Jade stated with all the conviction that she was able to gather within her 5'3" tall. — "I just don't like you very much!"

"Guys, what is that?" — Changbin intervened, alternating his gaze between them. — "Can't you stay in peace for at least a few hours?"

"Or rather, can't you be at peace for all?" — Chan reshaped the question. — "If you're going to have to get used to each other's presence anyway, you'd better do it more quietly, no?"

"It's not me, it's her" — sulked, Jisung folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Jade was about to do the same, but her good sense alerted her to how much she was being childish acting like that. — "And I won't apologize while she doesn't."

"Ah, but..." — Kang was almost indignant again, but eventually let out a sigh and lift the fucking white flag for being easier and less exhausting. — "Okay..." — she bit the inside of her cheek in a short moment of reluctance. — "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Jisung didn't spare one last ironic glance before finally lowering his guard: — "I'm sorry, too. For whatever bad I've done for you."

"Now a hug," — Changbin added, but both Jade and Jisung refused and said it was already too good that way, destroying Seo's expectations. — "That's why I like the kids," — he murmured, disappointed, and turned his attention back to the pizza.

The moment, then, became conducive to peace reign and everyone could enjoy a good meal around a large table, except for Jinah, who continued sulk in her place.

"What's wrong with you?" — Jisung asked with a frown.

"You reject me too quickly," — she mumbled, folding her arms.

It took him a few seconds to go over the last lines and find out what he had done wrong, then realized that the tantrum was due to the fact that he had told Jade that, if the problem between them was jealousy, the american could stay with Jinah for herself, but it was obvious that this was a kind of irony. For a moment, Jisung had forgotten how much Choi was sensitive that day.

"I didn't reject you and I didn't say that seriously."

"It wasn't what it looked like."

"Jinah, do you really think I'd offer you to Jade if I knew she really would want you?"

"This is getting cute," — Felix murmured to Chan, who laughed softly and nodded.

"Really?" — Choi asked, her eyes looking like those of some abandoned puppy. Changbin wanted to laugh and put an end to that drama at once, for it was very clear to Chan, Jade and him that it was all a cheap staging by someone who wanted only a little more attention.

"Of course."

"Then, give me a little kiss" — Jinah pouted her red lips in Jisung's direction, who widened his eyes.

"You don't have to exaggerate, either."

"But you said..."

Han began to think about what he had done so badly to deserve it, but, as he knew from experience that every fight with Choi was lost, he deprived himself of something stubbornly in vain and kissed her for a few seconds, then hearing cries and provocations of the others.

"Now I'm happy again," — Jinah said through a smile as they parted, watching the boy's cheeks paint red.

Jisung just wished he hadn't opened such a big smile as well.

* WEEP THE PITANGAS: again, idk where that expression came from, but basically from what i know, it means: "the name pitanga, or brazilian/surinam cherry, comes from pyrang, which, in tupi — language used by the ancient indian tribes here in brazil —, means red. therefore, the expression refers to someone who cried a lot, until the eye turned red. from its origins, this expression has the meaning of "complaining", "whining". i googled to see if there was a similar english expression and found some, but i don't think any other expression would fit that well sjskjs because that's the fun of brazilian slang and expressions, they're funnier when translated in a literal sense, even if you don't understand the meaning at all, yanno? in addition, it's also good to learn new expressions and slang from time to time, even if they are from a different language

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haloud · 6 years ago

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“Not as Lost, Violent Souls:” Alex Manes and T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” -- part 2

- intro - part 1 -

Previously on:

(gif by bisexualalienblast, used with permission)

To recap what we’ve established so far: the epigraph and the first two segments of “The Hollow Men” portray the speaker as a man who has lost a sense of identity or purpose, both among the hollow men and wishing to be more like them, haunted by a vision of “eyes” and wishing to live more completely in the meaningless, liminal space inhabited by the hollow men. If Alex is the speaker, trapped in a sense in the world that makes “hollowness” the only state of being achievable, then the desire to inhabit that distant, liminal space is representative of the defense mechanisms he has developed to navigate the world. He takes control, avoiding vulnerability. He runs away, keeping intimate interactions with the person who makes him most vulnerable on his terms. In sections III-V, the imagery of the eyes grows ever stronger, as the world of the speaker grows more dismal and disconnected, concluding with the breakdown of connections inherent in the Shadow falling between such deeply connected things, and the final statement about the end of the world.

Part III: Lone and level sands

This segment of the poem is one of the shortest, and it shifts the focus from the hollow men themselves, the speaker, and the eyes, and onto the broader landscape the hollow men occupy.

This is the dead land This is cactus land

Of course, we, the writers of Roswell, and the characters of the show would all know that deserts are not dead at all, but instead teeming with life. However, pairing “dead land” with “cactus land” in the segment immediately following the previous lines about the kingdoms of death is meant to communicate a sense of the total bleakness of the landscape, as well as serve as a reminder of the futility of the existence of the hollow men, who are compared to scarecrows, but in this “cactus land” have no real fields to stand in, have no real function.

Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man's hand Under the twinkle of a fading star

In Jeffrey Howard's explication of this poem[1], he identifies these lines and this imagery as being in reference to Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias.” I don’t have a whole lot to say about this in relation to Alex specifically, but it’s certainly an interesting connection in the context of some things I’ve already said regarding him and Jesse. Jesse is very much a “look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”[2] kind of guy. As Howard goes on to say, Shelley’s poem “appears as a cold sarcasm regarding humanity’s aspirations to godhood instead of being an earnest evaluation of humanity’s might, which does not, in reality, exist” (10). This entire discussion brings to my mind again Alex’s speech to Kyle in 1x12, how there exists a constant need to justify atrocities committed by one’s government (the modern American answer to atrocities committed by godhood), and how people generally fail to recognize that what seems like might is more often than not a completely empty concept.

is it like this In death's other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone

Here, the speaker is asking if the world is just as bleak for those who have “crossed over,” as said in the first segment, to “death’s other kingdom.” In death’s other kingdom, do the people there have to wake alone, when they are “trembling with tenderness?” Do the people there have the freedom to kiss, when all the speaker/the hollow men can do is “form prayers to broken stone?”[3][4] Previously, the speaker has expressed an inability to come to “death’s other kingdom,” locked in a sort of purgatory with the other hollow men; the speaker has also expressed resistance to “death’s dream kingdom,” wanting to stay far away from the vision of eyes that that dream kingdom brings, knowing that he will always be far away from “that final meeting / In the twilight kingdom.” Here, however, the speaker expresses almost a yearning for things to be different, even if achieving “death’s other kingdom” is impossible.

Part IV: Valley of dying stars

Part IV opens with further bleak imagery and further admission of hopelessness:

The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

The speaker has succeeded, then, for a given value of success; he has avoided the gaze of the eyes, and now they are gone altogether. The stars are dying, the valley is hollow, even the tiny scraps of life that may have existed previously in this landscape are winking out, one by one. The line that stands out in this stanza is that about the “broken jaw” of the lost kingdom, which is a flare of violence or pain, whether by accident or deliberately induced, which stands out among all the numbness that characterizes the rest of the poem.

In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of this tumid river[5]

Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death's twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men.

The hollow men gather together against what separates them from what is, textually, death, but symbolically is more like salvation, paradise, or connection. This segment of the poem has strong religious imagery—strong enough that I’m forced here to talk about it when I’ve avoided it thus far because it’s not terribly relevant to any of my points about Alex. That being said, I will go into greater detail in the Watsonian analysis about what significance the religious imagery in “The Hollow Men” may have to Alex as a person, despite the lack of any religious context for his character in the show thus far. As a continuation of the Doylist analysis, I will say only that the eyes have once again appeared as a signifier of salvation or peace. “The hope only / of empty men.”

Part V: the Shadow

Here is how the fifth and final movement of the poem begins:

Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear, prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o'clock in the morning.

Now, before I get fully into Part V, I just want to let you all know about the deeply, deeply hilarious opinion of Smith[6] about the "prickly pear" parody of the "mulberry bush" children's song, which is that the prickly pear is a phallic symbol while the mulberry bush is all vaginas all the time, apparently[7] Grover. My buddy. My dude. What. Anyway, the remainder of the poem is a long set of dichotomies or intrinsically and existentially paired concepts, interspersed with a line from the Lord’s Prayer, concluding with the famous final lines.

Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is Life is For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but with a whimper.

The abortive lines referencing the Lord’s Prayer indicate a struggle against a father—The Father—and, dispersed as they are among the lines about a Shadow falling between concepts that should never otherwise be separated, themselves become the Shadow. The Shadow is a higher concept, a higher being, with the power to tear apart even logically and naturally inseparable things. In the context of Alex and Roswell, Jesse Manes is, in many ways a literal Shadow obstructing connectedness and growth. However, there is another version of the Shadow which his worldview has caused to transfer to his son. Critic J. Hillis Miller identifies the Shadow as “the paralysis which seizes men who live in a completely subjective world,” and states, “Mind had seemed the medium which binds all things together in the unity of an organic culture. Now [the mind] is revealed to be the Shadow which isolates things from one another, reduces them to abstraction, and makes movement, feeling, and creativity impossible.” Alex’s “subjective reality” is not a traditional one, but rather the result of two worldviews fighting for supremacy within him and forcing him to a standstill—his own, and the one his father has imposed upon him his entire life. A subjective reality forms when he is incapable of making decisions based upon one worldview without the other intruding; there is no objective truth, no objective way of leading his life. An objective sense of purpose is, of course, something that all people strive for regardless of their circumstances, but it is the specific destabilizing outside force which in “The Hollow Men” is referred to as the “Shadow” that makes Alex’s experience resonate with the text of the poem. By the end of the poem, the speaker cannot so much as complete a sentence. The Shadow comes between, among other things, the thought and the speech. In the same way, Alex’s own “Shadow,” being both the imprinted trauma and continuing expectation as well as his father’s physical presence, comes between who he is and who he wants to be; who he can be and what face he shows to the world.

The speaker and Alex end the poem in the same way as they began. Trapped in a role that is part tool, part puppet, part propaganda, caught between wishing for hope or salvation and wishing he could even wish for as much as that. He has companions but feels no companionship; he stands on the banks of a river but has no boat with which to cross, nor any money to pay the ferryman. And all the while he is watched by these eyes which represent a state of being or an ideal which he can never achieve, but just as he scorns those eyes and wishes they would turn away, they do, and he is left sightless and silent.

This is not a happy poem. Nor do I believe that analyzing it in this way will reveal any more hopeful, happier meaning for Eliot’s hollow men or for Alex Manes. The existence of the hollow men is a bleak one, and at the very beginning of Roswell, New Mexico—the inciting events that build upon each other until Alex references the poem—Alex is in a fairly bleak place himself. However. I, unlike Eliot, do not believe in unhappy endings, so I didn’t want to close out this section just with a whimper. So while this essay concerns itself primarily with bleakness, I still want to remind everyone that “the world ends with a whimper” in episode nine of thirteen (and yet to come). Alex has already punched through the end of the world and is in the process of pulling himself through that hole and out the other side, retaking agency, rediscovering himself, relearning what he wants and how he is going to achieve those desires. The hollow men may have only empty hopes, but Alex’s hope is very real, and his character’s journey, as is the case with all characters in Roswell’s first season, has only just begun.

Part three of this essay will reexamine Alex’s character, his relationship to “The Hollow Men” at various points in his life, and his decision to quote the poem in context from a Watsonian perspective.

[1] Howard, Jeffrey G. “T.S. Eliot’s THE HOLLOW MEN.” The Explicator, vol. 70, no. 1, 2012, pp. 8-12, https://doi.org/10.1080/00144940.2012.656736. Accessed 2 Sept. 2019. [2] Howard goes into some detail about this line (line 11 of Shelley’s poem); he points out the capitalization of the word “Mighty,” how that grammatical convention is usually reserved for “proper nouns and deities,” and how it “solidifies just such a correlation” between “Ozymandias” and the “feigned divinity of the hollow men.” [3] I believe I speak for all of us when I say: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh [4] Continuing the Ozymandias reference; worshipping a ruin of something that used to be grand but was always fallible. I really suggest anyone who wants to read a Romantic poet’s 14-line dunk on Jesse Manes go give Ozymandias a look. [5] According to the Norton anthology’s footnotes as well as scholarship on some of Eliot’s other work, as well as Dante’s, which is a stated inspiration for both “The Waste Land” and “The Hollow Men,” the tumid river refers to the river Acheron, which is both a real river in Greece and a fixture of Greek mythology—the river which one must cross to reach the underworld, the river from which the underworld’s other rivers all spring forth. [6] Same Grover Smith I referenced earlier. He’s a serious scholar! But serious literary scholars are also often very, very silly. And literary scholars and anthropologists share the quirk of educated guessing that demands that, when in doubt, every symbol must be either a deity or a penis. [7] The only story I’m aware about concerning mulberry bushes is the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, very much a proto-Romeo and Juliet story in which two families hated each other, but their children fell in love by whispering through a crack in the wall between them. The myth/drama ends with a double suicide. It is the blood of the lovers that gives mulberries their color to this day. Thanks, the Greeks, for yet another heartwarming tale about nature, and one that is not particularly, uh, yonic. I think the mulberry bush children’s song might possibly be about washerwomen, hence the idea that it is feminine, but I would hardly consider the prickly pear a masculine version of that. In short: Grover. Man. What.

#rnm meta #roswell new mexico #alex manes

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just-jordie-things · 7 years ago

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Sick Day - Scott McCall

word count: 2215 warnings: I don’t think any actually summary: (y/n’s) got a bad case of *dramatic music* period. but Scott McCall stops by to lift her spirits

The best part of Scott's whole day was coming to school early. As much as he hated waking up at such an unholy hour, it was worth it to see you first. You drive to school at 6 o'clock every morning to sit in the library and work or read in silence for a good hour before students came for their classes. He never told you he was coming, always surprising you, but practically every day.

You'd been best friends since the fourth grade, and being together was a natural pull. You hadn't known who Scott was when you met him on the recess playground at age 9. He had an asthma attack on the ladder to the slide, and you'd smacked him and told him to ‘suck it up and move along’. After when the teacher took him to the nurse, you'd asked him about it a lot and he even let you use his inhaler. You stuck together ever since, and Scott never let you live down how much ‘you didn't care about his asthmatic breakdown’. To which you resented. Especially now, since the wolf boy doesn't even have asthma anymore.

When he put his motorbike helmet in his locker, he headed off to the library. A paper bag with your favorite donut in one hand, and in the other, a warm cup of coffee. He was excited to see you and give you your spontaneous breakfast treat. Scott walked into the room of bookshelf after bookshelf of stories. He went off toward the table you always sat at, but the entire room was seemingly empty.

“y/n?” He called, but received no answer. His brow furrowed, you never missed school. Like..ever. No fake sick days, no real sick days. Even after long nights of fighting and restless sleep, you showed up at Beacon Hills High bright and early. Confused and concerned, Scott pulled out his phone and texted you.

to- y/n ❤️

hey you're not in the library are you at the school? text me back when you get this

He sat at the table and waited for the next hour by himself. But you never came, and you never texted back. When the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the school day, Scott went in search of someone else. As soon as he caught sight of the strawberry blonde, attached to his brother's arm, he called their names, and ran up to them.

“Hey Scotty” Stiles grinned. “Where's y/n?” Scott shrugged.

“I don't know I haven't seen her and I'm really freaking out-”

“Hey woah calm down” Lydia cut off Scott's rambling. “She stayed home today”

“Why!?” Scott's eyes were wide with fear, but Lydia just chuckled.

“Will you relax McCall? She's just having a bad period cycle today, I told her to stay home and rest” Lydia said calmly, and Scott seemed to be relieved by that.

Then he ran off.

“Scott where are you-!?” Stiles tried to tell after him, but the boy was long out of sight. “He's so in love with her” Stiles shook his head, and Lydia gave a hum of agreement.

Scott pulled out his set of keys, and unlocked your door with the spare you'd given him. He walked in quietly and locked the door again behind him. He took off his shoes and went upstairs. Your door was closed, so he politely knocked on it.

“Mom I said go to work I'm fine” You grumbled from inside, making Scott chuckle. He walked in, finding your back facing him in your bed. You were curled up in a heap of blankets there.

“It's not Mom” He said, walking around to the other side so you'd see him.

“Scott? What're you doing here?” You asked, and he set his backpack on the floor, before crawling in bed with you.

“Lydia said you're having a bad period day” He replied, sliding under your blankets with you.

“And you're not grossed out by that?” Scott purses his lips and shook his head.

“Nah” You chuckled a little. “Anyways, I brought stuff” He said, sitting up a little to lean his back on your headboard, and pulling his backpack up next to him. “Food” He proceeded to show you bars of chocolate and bags of chips. “And movies” All your favorite dvds. “And Midol, Advil, and ibuprofen”

“Midol” Your eyes lit up at the cramp relief bottle of pills, and he handed you it, along with a water bottle.

“And tampons, but I didn't know what you liked” He lifted his bag, tipping it upside down. Boxes of every kind of tampon fell onto your blankets.

“Oh my god..” You had no idea what to even say to him. “You didn't have to do that Scott… I have plenty here” He shrugged. “You probably looked insane buying all these, how much do you think I bleed?” You giggle, and he flushed a little. “Thanks Scott” You said, putting everything neatly back into his backpack. But snagging a candy bar for yourself.

“Yeah yeah no problem” He smiled crookedly. “Do you need anything? Does it hurt?” You nod with wide eyes.

“Trust me you're so lucky that you don't have to go through cramps” You laugh but it was a miserable sound.

“Oh that's easy” Scott took your hand, easily taking your pain as the veins in his arms and hand darkened to black. You sighed in relief, falling onto your pillow and smiling.

“God I love you” You mumbled, eyes closing as you drifted off to sleep. Scott smiled sadly, laying back down next to you and keeping his hand in yours.

“I love you too” He replied softly to your sleeping form.

You woke up first after a two hour nap. Your eyes blinked awake, and you were happy for the muscle contractions to be gone, but your head buzzed. When the room came to focus, you found Scott sleeping across from you, causing you to smile. It'd been awhile since you'd had a ‘sleepover’ so to speak. Your parents said you couldn't anymore when seventh grade rolled around. And you had to admit, you sure missed it. Sleeping with Scott always made you feel well rested, and as much as you'd hate to say, it made you feel safe. Sure you can protect yourself fine against the supernatural. Especially for being human. But Scott never failed to make you feel anything less than protected. You smiled, raising a few fingers to run along his uneven jaw. Then shuffled forward and leaned against his chest. Scott woke up at this, but didn't let you notice, just smiled to himself and closed his eyes.

“I know you're awake” You mumbled into his shirt, and he mentally cursed. But neither of you moved.

“How do you feel?”

“Irritable” You responded, and he chuckled.

“You want to watch a movie?” You nodded and he rolled onto his back, sliding out his phone and handing it to you to pick one out. You did, and you each shared an earbud. You moved onto your back as well, half laying on him. Your head on the front of his shoulder, arms folded against his side. Scott looked at you as you were focused on his phone screen. Your features were soft and gentle, you had a sweet expression as you'd laugh softly every once in awhile at something that would happen in the film. Thirty minutes in, you caught one of his glances towards you.

“Scott stop it I'm ugly and bloated” You groaned, rolling slightly to lean your chest in his side. Your head still lie on his shoulder.

“y/n shut up you could wear a trash bag and not shower for a week and still look beautiful” You scoffed and tried to hide your blush. “And you're not bloated. Still scrawny as ever” You rolled your eyes this time and stuck out your tongue.

“Doesn't feel like it”

“Is it hurting again?” You shook your head. And reached over him for another chocolate bar. This time when you opened it up you broke it in half for Scott to have some too. He smiled at you when he took it, and you clunked the pieces together.

“Cheers” You said with a small giggle, and Scott repeated it back too before you ate your candy. When you finished you rolled onto your stomach, planting your face in the pillow. Scott laughed at you.

“Want me to suffocate you?”

“Please?” He chuckled again, and pushed you onto your back. You groaned, grabbing the pillow and pushing it onto your face again.

“Too bad” Scott said, taking it again. You peeked over at him to find his crooked grin. “What?” He asked after a few moments of you just staring at him expressionlessly. You smiled a short, little smile.

“Hold me” You said, and wiggled back into his arms. Scott smiled down into your hair. It was quiet for a bit as you just laid comfortably against him. His heart was beating against your cheek, and breathed in his scent. It was warm, like the beach in summer. “Remember when I drank the spiked punch in freshman year” You whispered, and he moved back to look down at you slightly. Your eyes were closed, resting on his upper arm as you smiled softly. “You got sooo mad at me” Scott let out an airy laugh again, his hand came up over your head. You hummed in appreciation when his thumb brushed over your forehead, back and forth.

“No, no I wasn’t mad I was freaked out” He responded in a whisper. Your nose involuntarily nuzzled on his arm. “Really freaked out, I’d never seen you drunk before”

“And now I never get drunk without you”

“Yeah well I’m the only one who cares enough to see you when you’re drunk. It is so not a great sight to watch” You laughed with him this time, opening your eyes to see his twinkling.

“So much for me always being beautiful” You joke, and he grows quiet, features falling slightly.

“You are” He whispered, thumb still caressing your forehead. “Of course you are I’m never gonna tell you otherwise, because that’s not true” You smiled softly and nervously. Your eyes fell shut again.

“Scott” You said softly, and he hummed in response. “Why’d you come here?” He looked at you confusedly, but you still had your eyes closed.

“You weren’t in the library this morning, I waited and I texted you, but you didn’t respond so I found Lyd and she said you were here on your period and stuff” You nodded a little. “I just wanted to make sure you were all good” You smiled again, fluttering your eyes open to see him returning the expression. “What? Why’re you smiling?” Scott asked quietly, and you shook your head.

“I’m just glad you’re here with me” You responded in a whisper. Scott seemed happily satisfied with your answer, as he gave you a little grin. You could tell he was trying not to smile bigger. “Are you gonna stay the whole night?”

“Maybe. Depends if your mom checks on you”

“I’ll put a post it on the door saying I need peace and quiet. Not that you provide either of those things”

“Jerk” Scott grumbled, and you rolled your eyes.

“Anyways, if I do that will you stay?” The second half of your statement was quieter.

“Do you want me to?” He quirked a brow and you felt nerves crawl on your skin.

“Maybe”

“You totally do” Scott chuckled. “y/n’s got a crush” He sing songed and you swatted him.

“Shut up McCall”

“Make me”

“You perv. Raising the sexual tension like that” He laughed louder now, his arms encircling your waist.

“You’re into me!” You didn’t reply this time, just stared at his sheepish grin with your lips parted.

“Maybe” You finally said again, and his features changed slightly.

“Wait, really?” And suddenly you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “No no! That’s good!” He said quickly, realizing that he’d been quiet for too long.

“It is?” You asked, and he nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, finally, God you take forever” You laughed nervously, your hands wringing together. “Seriously, I mean Stiles and Lydia got together first”

“So we’re together now?” You asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly at him, and he seemed to fluster.

“W-well s-sure if th-that’s what you wanna, I mean we don’t- it can just be- we can”

“Stop. You’re making me cringe” You said, and Scott laughed a little.

“Come ‘mere” He murmured, and pulled you closer to him. You smile anxiously as his eyes glanced over your face. “You’re so beautiful”

“You’ve told me that like a hundred times today” You said with a nervous laugh.

“And I’ll tell you a hundred more so that you know it” He said, and your cheeks went pink.

“Is it gonna be like this all the time?” You asked, partially joking, but Scott could hear your racing heartbeat, and there was no hiding the blush on your cheeks.

“I hope so” He said, making you smile.

“Well. Next week, when this…” You gestured at yourself. “Is over, you’re taking me on a date then”

“Sounds like a plan”

taglist: @the-crime-fighting-spider @socially-awkward-nerd @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lovelynerdytraveler @writings-and-stuff @jurassicpork @black-tights-black-heart @piper-x-lee

xoxo ~ jordie

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf scenario #teen wolf fanfiction #Scott mccall #Scott McCall x reader #Scott McCall fanfiction #Scott McCall imagine #Scott McCall scenario #Tyler posey #Tyler posey x reader #Tyler posey imagine #Tyler posey fanfiction #Tyler posey scenario

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canimumblr · 6 years ago

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Almost every night my husband stays up til ass o'clock in the morning. Usually around 2 or 3 he'll finally come to bed. It's one of our most frequent arguments, because he knows Liv wakes up at like 6 to 7am every day and then he's so tired taking care of her and it makes me anxious.

Today she is wide afuckingwake at 11. I wanted to be in bed an hour ago, but she fell asleep early and then woke up at 9 and is showing zero signs of being remotely tired.

No big deal. Hubs is always up super late anyway, so he can stay up late with her while I sleep, because I'm used to being in bed by 10.

Lmfaooooo guess who's so tired he desperately needs to go to sleep four hours earlier than usual for the first time in months! And he works tomorrow and has to lift 150lb objects at work so if he's super out of it he could hurt himself.

So guess who's up with the baby for possibly another couple hours despite already having been up since 6am and despite it already being well past my bedtime so I'm already so tired my eyes are burning?

And guess who already had a fucking garbage day and at least two mental breakdowns in the last few hours?

Fuck my life.

#mumblr #momblr

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cowboylikehim · 8 years ago

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Fairy Tales- Cody Carson

Cody Carson x Reader

I knew becoming friends with Cody Carson was a risky thing. Yet I let him come into my life. Over and over I allowed him to get closer and closer to me. He was toxic but in an addicting way. I felt I'd die if I gave him up. So I never did.

Cody was the kind of guy that would do reckless things and use others to bail him out. Yet I let him use me each and every time. He was like a drug, he might be bad for me but he is the only thing that makes me truly happy. I love him.

He'd never love me back. He lives the dream life, he doesn't let anyone or thing stop him from what he wants to do. I need him to make me feel alive, I'm too dependent. I dwell on the past. Or I think too far into the future. The only time I stay in the present is when I'm with him.

I could never leave. I don't think he'd ever leave, we need each other. Not in the best way. Cody never really cared about me. It was all a show, for publicity.

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. I felt like I had the biggest rock stuck in my throat, the familiar feeling of before I had a breakdown. I feel like life is going to fast and I can't stop it. I need someone that will love me, someone that will comfort me when I break down.

What I don't need is someone who is being my 'Boyfriend' because his producers told him that he needed a girl to come to shows and other stuff for publicity.

My legs picked me up and took me up the carpeted stairs, around the corner, and into my bedroom. I opened my closet. I quickly scanned for a comfy sweater and a hoodie. My eyes landed on a Fall Out Boy sweat-shirt and some random long sleeved shirt. Perfect. I slipped on some boots that would be warm enough for the chilly winter air. My eyes looked at the closet once more, it looked weirdly empty. All my clothing stayed on the right and Cody's on the left, they never intruded on each other's sides. The bulk of mine was warm sweaters and hoodies. Taking some out made it feel empty.

Opening the door, I slipped my headphones into the pocket of my hoodie and my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. After closing the door behind me, I breathed out into the frigid winter air. You could see my breath leaving my mouth.

Walking to nowhere was always an interesting coping mechanism. Never know where you might end up. That was a terrifying thought, but comforting at the same time. It gave me a sense of freedom. I could end up somewhere hazardous, or I could find an astonishing place that gave me the feeling of liberation. Some days I end up walking all alone on a street. Others I find myself having a drink at a small bar. I never know.

Halfway through my little trip, I find myself walking by a cafe. Only a few were in there, all with a joyous face. Laughing with each other, enjoying their time. A small smile dispersed on my lips. I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept walking.

Some girls were laughing on the street, slightly tipsy but still alert of everything around them. Sober enough to know not to drive. I walked into where they had come from.

The bartender was busy with only a few customers, about 4 people in a group. The lights hanging from the ceiling had a tiger print on them and the floor was made of a dark wood. The bar itself had very many drinks up for purchase. Violet lights lit up the room. It had a sense of a not too wild place to catch a drink.

Smiling, I sat down in the chairs.

"What'd you like miss?" The bartender asked. He had tattoos littered all over his arms and neck and a mustache. I'd never really looked over the choices so I just order a simple drink.

"Beer." He nodded and went off to grab a glass.

I let out a long sigh. I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. 9:48. Cody should be home by now, practice ends at 9. Maybe I should have left a note, I could still text him. Why should I? He never thinks to check in when he goes out with the guys after practice.

I whipped my head around after feeling a gentle tap on my shoulder. A brunette girl stood but quickly sat next to me.

"Hello, You seem to be upset. If you don't mind, we could talk about it. I'd love to get away from my shitfaced drunk friends." She giggled pointing to about 3 other people dancing. "I'm Ally. What seems to be the problem?"

"Boy Troubles, pathetic, I know. Nothing a beer can't fix. This... guy. He'd never love me back, even though we are dating. It's weird." I spoke, swallowing a lump in my throat.

"Love is weird. I'm sure if you talk it out it would get better. Either ending you would be happier."

I downed the rest of my beer, I should head back. I gave Ally my number, she wanted to hear the ending to my sad, depressing fairy tale rip off. The kind where the final chapter was never written, the one without a happy ending.

The walk back was smooth. Nothing exciting. I didn't want to enter the house, Cody's car was parked and the lights were on in the house. He was awake. Maybe he'll ignore me like most of the other nights. Forcing myself to walk into the house, I felt a bit of anxiety bundle inside me.

"Where were you?".

Those 3 words were said in a rude yet concerned tone. Cody looked a little frantic. Maybe he cared. God (Y/n)! Stop with the false hope!

"I was out." I walked straight into the bedroom. Pulling my knees up to my chest I thought about how if nothing changes I'd be miserable forever. I love him so much. I need him. To him I was replaceable. I'd be gone as soon as he really fell in love. With someone that isn't me. I wish I could make him happy, he makes me happy. Cody could never love me, I was nothing to him.

"(Y/n)." I looked up upon hearing the demanding tone. "I'm only here to establish an alibi."

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"Tomorrow we have to go on a date." Cody paused. "Bowling then drinks with the guys."

It wasn't really a question but I responded anyway, "Sure, 6 o'clock?"

"Yep, Bye." Cody turned and reached out for the door knob. I felt the lump in my throat rise, and let out silent tears. "(Y/n)?"

"What?" I quickly made my voice sound happy. Why am I always so fake.

"You- You're crying." Cody sat next to me. "Is it because of me?"

He really thought it might not be him?!

"Cody, You ignore me every day. I know we are just for show because your producers made you. But I love you so much. It kills me to know that you don't love me back. Not to mention that you hate me. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, or anyone. You are like a drug to me. I need you, but it ends up worse than when I started." I ended up crying loudly, head buried in my knees.

I would have gasped in shock have I not been crying when I felt two strong arms pull me into Cody's chest. His hand rubbed my hair and back soothingly. He had never done this before

"I'm so sorry. I never thought I had a chance, We were both doing this for the publicity. I assumed that the only reason you were doing it too. I think I love you. Give me a chance?"

"Cody Carson, You were the biggest dick to me ever. Yet I still love you. I am more than open to love you. As long as you never do something like this again."

"Of course." He leaned down and kissed me. We have kissed before, only in public. This time was different, it was just us. No cameras. No fans. No pictures to be posted on twitter. Just passion and real love.

I leaned my forehead against his, "Cody, hold me."

He laughed. Dear God his laugh made me feel like I was on a high. His arms wrapped around me and he leaned back onto the bed.

Everything got better. My fairy tale did have a final chapter, it was just lost in the process and took a little hard work to be found. I love him, and He loves me.

@daniellesimagines

#cody carson #cody set it off #cody carson set it off #Cody carson imagine #Cody carson fanfiction #Cody carson fanfic #set it off imagines #Set it off #set it off fanfic #set it off facfiction #cody carson x reader #set it off x reader #set it off reader insert #cody carson reader insert #cody carson imagines

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dcbicki · 8 years ago

Text

“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 4

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: Explicit content In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

If she’s in this for the long haul then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by.

If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

Chapter 1: x | x Chapter 2: x | x Chapter 3: x | x

“Can you please get off your fucking phone?” Amy nudges his elbow, nods over to a poster glued on the wall opposite them, “Can’t you read?”

Dan rolls his eyes, dodges her glare and continues to type away on his cell for a moment before he shuts it off and slips it into his coat pocket.

“There’s like one poster in here, Amy.” He grumbles, scratches at his chin, holds back a yawn, “It’s not like I’m the only one doing it. It’s New York for fuck’s sake. Everyone is on their phone.”

He shoots a look over to the blonde couple sat beside the reception desk, the guy on a call, the heavily pregnant girl quite clearly texting someone.

“I’m not.”

“Remind me to get you a medal for that, by the way. This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen you holding something other than your phone.”

There’s a pamphlet in her hands, and she’s been scanning it front-to-back for like twenty minutes now.

“It’s informative. And I’ve told everyone I’m unavailable right now anyway, so…”

“Really? You told Selina you were unavailable?” Dan perks a brow, turns to look down at her, knee brushing against her leg and Amy flinches, shifts.

She pulls a face, “Surprisingly, she’s not being as big of a cunt about this as you’d imagine. “Besides,” she clears her throat, “it’s you she hates.”

“She doesn’t hate me.” He frowns, shakes his head in that cocky way she hates, “She needs me.”

“She needs your mediocre bullshitting skills, not your actual bullshit.” Amy shrugs, smiles softly, “And she blames you for this.

Dan sighs, huffs, uncrosses his legs and leans forward in his (squeaky) seat, rests his elbows on his knees, “Whatever. She probably just wants you to be better at this than she was. Lord fuckin’ knows Catherine wasn’t exactly raised by sane parents.”

Amy snorts, “You think we’re sane? Dan, we’ve had more breakdowns between the both of us than the whole patient list of a mental asylum. I’d be surprised if the kid didn’t come out in a fucking straitjacket.”

“Well, we can blame your dysfunctional family for those batshit genes, can’t we, Ames?”

“Oh, fuck you. You think you’re normal? I’ve seen you eat coffee.”

“It’s not my fault Gary didn’t fill up the machine-”

“Miss Brookheimer?”

“Yes.”

She’s picking up her bag before Dan can get another word in, but he stands to follow her anyway, stopping dead in his tracks when she does the same.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“In there.” He points behind her, back toward the room her doctor just emerged from and disappeared to, and then he smirks. “Let’s go.”

“No, no. You’re waiting here.”

She wags her finger, glances around the waiting room, “I invited you out of courtesy, not so you could get all hysterical and start crying and shit. Because, let’s be honest, we all know you will.”

“Amy,” Dan begins, steps closer, “I’m coming in there with you, just as I did in you last night.”

Her face flushes and she’s seriously considering slapping him in the face right in front of all of these people.

He grabs her elbows then, spins her around and walks her forward, carefully trailing at her heels.

“How are we feeling today?” Her doctor’s chipper (more than Amy would like, mind you). She’s about fifty, has long red hair pulled into a braid, glasses perched on the end of her nose. And she smiles, all white teeth and pink lips, and Amy loathes her.

“I’d rather die than be here.” Amy mumbles, feigns the smallest of smiles. She thrusts her bag into Dan’s chest, grits her teeth, “You can sit.”

He places her bag down on the floor beside the chair - has to bite his tongue first, of course - and licks his lips, “I think I’ll stand, thanks.”

“Are you the husband?”

“Husband?” There’s a snort - a choke, almost - and Amy is laughing then, “Husband, no. Fuck no.” She can feel Dan’s (annoyed) eyes on her, and it only amuses her more, “He’s just the sperm donor.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a donor tag along to a scan, but, hey - who am I to judge? There’s a first time for everything.” She’s smiling, all honest and true, and Dan just purses his lips, nods once or twice.

She’s facing Amy now, holding up a tube of something in her gloved hand, “Okay. Are you settled?”

The blonde on the bed adjusts slightly, tensing her shoulders as she pulls on her blouse, draws it up from under her skirt until it gathers below her breasts so her stomach is bare.

“All right.” The doctor - something Jones, maybe? - approaches then, “This might feel a little cool at first.” She flicks her hand holding the tube then, squirting some clear liquid onto Amy’s pale stomach.

She twitches, and Dan grins when she bites her bottom lip at the cold sensation.

There’s a chair pulled around then, and the older woman sits down beside Amy’s legs. She reaches over to one side, pulls the transducer out of its place and smoothes it over her patient’s belly, in circles and stripes, creating a pattern.

“I see you have a full bladder.”

“I was told it’d be clearer that way.” Amy clears her throat, avoids Dan’s curious stare as she moves one arm to rest behind her head, propping herself up.

Their doctor - Amy’s doctor - nods, smiles (again!), and she makes a strange noise as she continues to stare at the monitor.

“Yep.” She’s moving her head, craning her neck as though she’s looking for something.

Dan only notices because he’d been watching Amy watch her, watching as her body stiffened at the woman’s silence.

“What?”

He isn’t panicking, and he isn’t losing his cool - mainly because this isn’t his area of expertise and really doesn’t know shit when it comes to medical care or pregnancies or abnormalities, so he has next to no idea if something is even wrong or not.

But Amy seems concerned (well, only slightly), so he’s concerned for her (well, a little bit).

“Is there-”

“No. Sorry,” She shoots Dan a blank look, then proceeds to talk to Amy, “Just took me a moment to find the little nugget.”

Little nugget? Really?

Amy’s eyes are wide, though less than they had been a second ago, and she crinkles her nose, “Is it… healthy?”

Despite himself, Dan finds his hand reaching for her side. Not for her hand, not for her arm. But he fingers the waistband of her skirt, taps one finger along her skin.

“Everything looks good. Hang on just a sec.”

She swivels back around in her stool, clicks on some keys on the machine that make the monitor almost freeze-frame, and then she’s looking over at them again, “And… there’s your baby.”

Shit.

“Fuck.”

“Agreed.”

She holds one finger up to the screen, points at something that looks about the size of a whole fucking fig.

And then the doctor’s standing up, brushing her hands down her white coat, “I’ll give you a moment.”

Dan waits until she’s at least halfway out the door before he speaks, breaks the awkward silence, “You can see it, right?”

Amy nods, squints, “It’s so fucking… tiny.”

He shrugs at that, moves his eyes from her face to the screen again, “Takes after you, then.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s supposed to be that small.”

“Not gonna lie, it does look like you just ingested a whole fruit.”

Amy smirks, leans forward and drops her hands to her lap, carefully avoiding the goo on her stomach. “How the fuck am I gonna carry that thing around when it gets bigger?”

It’s a little surreal, in all seriousness, Dan thinks. He made that. They made that. They made a person.

“Are you gonna start crying like a little bitch now?” She jokes, jabs a finger into his ribcage, and Dan rolls his eyes, swats her hand away.

“Fuck off. It’s just… weird.”

“Put yourself in my shoes. I’m gonna have to put up with two of you now.” Amy says, raising her eyebrows, “I thought one of you was bad.”

“Oh, please, you love me.”

“Correction, I can stand you. Sometimes. On occasion.” She swallows, shifts blue eyes from his own to his chin, “Can you bring her back in here so we can get the scan and leave?”

She’s closed off suddenly, it seems, and Dan has half a mind to strap her to the bed and get her to talk to him. But he won’t, because he has other plans.

“Yeah, you know what, that’s a good idea. I think I’m losing testosterone just being in this fuckin’ building.”

The fucking scan picture doesn’t fit in her purse so she has to rely on Dan to keep it safe in his wallet.

He’s folded the screenshot in half, shoved it inside the right sleeve of his wallet, and forced that into his trousers’ back pocket.

Thankfully, there’d been a bathroom in the clinic so she could empty her bladder before he’d practically dragged her out of the building - hand around her wrist (not too tightly, just comfortably so) - and headed off towards a book store down at the end of the street.

It’s almost like he’d planned ahead, the asshole.

“I don’t have time to read you a bedtime story, Dan. I’ve got work to do.”

She’s shrugging him off when they’re past the doorway, the smell of fresh books encasing them, “As do you, by the way. In case you’ve forgotten, we have a former President to elect as president.”

“Look, I’m only doing this for your benefit,” she’s following him down aisles now, stopping at a section filled with childcare books and manuals.

“Really?” Amy groans, “I don’t have time to read up on this kind of shit. That’s what the internet was invented for. And phones. So that when I need information, I can just look it up, and I don’t have to rely on ‘Mary Sue’s Tip for the Perky Pregnancy’.”

She reads off the title, printed in big bold letters on a book behind Dan, and he shifts to pick it up and wave it in her face.

“You know what? Maybe Mary Sue could teach you some stuff.” He places the book down in her hands, much to Amy’s chagrin. And then another, and another.

It’s like he already knew which books-

“Jesus fucking Christ, is this where you were last night?” Her face is the picture of utter disbelief, mixed in with some glee for good measure, “You’re a fucking pussy, you know what?”

“What?”

“What? Ever since I fucking told you I was pregnant, you haven’t stopped, not once. It’s all ‘Oh, Amy, read this forum’ and ‘Oh, Amy, be careful’.”

She shakes her head, shoves the five books in her hands back over to him, forcing them into his chest. “I’m starting to think you’re actually excited.”

“You think I’d be acting like this if you were anybody else?”

“I don’t know, Dan. I don’t even know why you’re acting like this with me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

He groans, readjusts the books so they’re all weighing in one arm, “Can’t you just be fuckin’ grateful and move on?”

“No.” Amy folds her arms over her chest, blinks once, twice, “No, because you’re being weird, and nice, and caring, and it’s fucking scary.”

He smirks then, shrugs his empty arm, “Maybe I’m just enjoying having some control over you.”

“Is that what you think this is? I let you be involved and suddenly I need you to take care of me, to watch me?” She fakes a shudder, starts to walk towards the exit. “You can’t control me, you idiot.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not like you can get rid of me, Ames.” He nods, pointedly, “It’s not like you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Fine, maybe you do. But the point is, is that now you can’t. I’m here, and I’m gonna be there, and I’m gonna be everywhere from now on. I’m gonna be right beside you whether you still want me to be or not. I’m gonna be standing right here, with you, even if you tell me to leave. Because you asked. Because you let me.”

Amy only stares up at him, all tense and heavy breaths, “You’re a fucking prick.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic, sweetheart.” He informs her, one corner of his mouth turning upward, “And you chose this prick.”

“Believe me, I’ve never regretted anything more.”

“More than agreeing to move in with me?”

She doesn’t understand him. She doesn’t understand this him. And she doesn’t think she wants to.

Original Dan was already complex enough.

Asshole.

“Look, I’m gonna go pay, and then we can go. All right? Will you be happy then?” He’s talking to her as though she’s a child, and she really fucking hates it.

“I don’t think you could ever make me happy.”

“I don’t think it’s happiness you want, Amy. I think it’s comfort.”

He’s brushed past her, making his way towards the cashiers.

“Oh, and you’re gonna make me comfortable?”

The five - no, six - books slide across the counter and Dan is already pulling his card from his wallet, and Amy makes a note of avoiding looking at the picture hidden in a slot.

“I mean, it’s not gonna be a bed of roses or anything, but at least we like each other. At least we fuck pretty well.”

“So romantic.” She keeps her arms crossed, closed off, “Honestly, you’re such a fucking charmer.”

“I’m sorry, Amy, I don’t turn on the charm until the third month of dating. And we’re no there yet.”

“Trust me, it’ll be a miracle if you even survive long enough to turn it on. You have no charm. You’re just one of Satan’s little helpers dressed in a nice suit, with mediocre looks.”

The cashier has been watching them for a moment, amused, scanning the books as slowly as humanly possible, and Amy is peeved.

“Can you fucking hurry up? I’m gotta go home and slit my wrists.”

“Funny.” Dan glares, faking a smile over at the till girl. “My wife’s a little on edge.”

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“You’d think being married to me would be comforting but, nope, she’s still just a raging bitch.”

“I swear to fuck-”

“A raging bitch with the sex drive of a retired pervert on viagra.” He can feel Amy glaring, fuming beside him, and Dan smirks wider, winks at the cashier girl, “Honestly, it’s just been fucking, and fucking, and I think she’s a little dick-crazy at this point. I mean fuck!” Dan exclaims, throwing up his hands, making a scene, watching as Amy squirms, “

The girl - no more than nineteen years old - just blinks, stares, and her cheeks flush as she chews at her bottom lip. “Okay.”

“D'you know what I mean? Of course you do, you’re fuckable.” He shrugs (with no charm, no suave).

“Would you like to sign up for our new newsletter? It’s, uh, aimed at expectant parents?”

“Yes!”

Slap him! Pull his fucking hair out, right now!

“No.”

He proceeds to give the young woman his email adress, and his phone number even though she doesn’t ask, and when his total is amounted, he pays in silence.

And, by the time they’ve left the store, by the time they’re back in her apartment, Amy is done.

She whacks his chest, beats fists against him, damn near tears his head from his shoulders. <(If she wasn’t so much shorter, she probably could have done it.)

“Can you calm the fuck down?”

“Can you die?”

Dan chuckles, tosses the heavy bag on the floor behind the door, slipping his coat for his shoulders when she’s finally stopped hitting him.

“Why are you here?”

“Because it’s late as fuck and I’m exhausted? Because you have a bed, a pretty fucking comfortable one I imagine?”

“No. No, no, no. If you’re sleeping here, you’re sleeping in here.” She points a finger down at the couch, “And I don’t have any extra pillows so you’re just gonna have to figure it out.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He looks pissed, unimpressed as all hell, and Amy is fucking glowing.

She walks away then, brushing past his shoulder, heading down the small corridor to her bedroom.

Once her door has slammed shut, she makes a point of opening it again just to say, “Goodnight, douchebag.”

“Fuck you.”

He doesn’t sleep.

How the fuck is he supposed to get a good night’s rest on her sofa when it’s not even a fucking pullout?

And it seems she hasn’t slept much either because, when he gets up at three in the morning to take a leak, her bedroom door is open and she’s sat indian style on her bed, legs crossed, a book in her lap.

When the hell had she come into the living room and snatched one of those?

He goes for a piss first, carefully avoiding any floorboards that looks even remotely creaky. But then the water of the tap runs when he washes his hands, and on his walk back, she pulls him up.

“Did you know I have to gain weight?”

Dan leans in the doorway, one shoulder pressed into the wood, and he smiles (faintly), “Like that’s ever been a problem.”

“Fuck off, I’m being serious.” She looks at him (briefly, barely), and then she’s bag to reading, one hand running along her forehead. “There’s so much shit I don’t know.”

He’s really not in the mood for a heart-to-fucking-heart at three o'clock in the morning - or, well, ever - but she looks seriously unnerved and terrified, and he isn’t sure he likes it, likes watching her in pain.

Get a grip, Egan.

“Hey,”

He nears her then, walks closer until he’s at the foot of her bed, and Dan reaches a hand out to grab her leg, wrapping his palm around her ankle, “You’ll be fine.” He squeezes, and Amy holds her breath for a moment, lifting her gaze to meet his own.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t give a shit about anything.”

“That’s not true.” He frowns - for some strange reason - and he sits down beside her legs, hands still cradling her skin, still touching her smooth edges. “You know that’s not true.”

“No, I don’t. You don’t give a shit about your work, not really. You jump from one job to another and it barely even phases you. You’re a fucking snake. You shed your skin like one, anyway. I’m not like that. I don’t adjust… I can’t adjust to this.”

“Ames, come on.” He tries a smile (at least), but he’s only half-sincere because he’s sleep-deprived and also really fucking not in the mood for this kind of chitchat.

“And, let’s be honest, you don’t give a shit about your relationships either, I mean- Christ, do you even have friends or just people that you occasionally fuck or screw over?”

She sighs, heavily, and it’s so un-Amy that he hates the sound of her breath.

“Are you gonna give a crap about this kid?”

“Amy.”

“Seriously.” She nods, mostly to herself, and she plucks his hand off of her leg, holds his wrist between her fingers, “I’m not fucking around. Like, I get that you’re gonna be a dick, and I get that you’re all proud that your dick worked wonders, and I get that you think that you have some kind of weird ownership over me. I get it. I get that you’re a asshole, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

She lets go of him, almost as though something, as though his touch, burns her skin, “I fucking hate it, and I fucking hate you most of the time, but what I don’t get is why you’re acting like you give a shit?”

To his own surprise - or maybe it’s intentional - he crawls over the bed, all long limbs and crinkled shirt, and he knits dark brows with a sigh, and she hates the sound because it’s so unlike him.

“I’m not good at this kinda shit, Amy. You know that, probably better than anyone given no one else has ever stuck around long enough.” He almost sounds pained, pitiful , “I’m just- I don’t like not having you around.”

It’s honest, and probably the truest thing he’s ever said to her. But it’s not news.

She already knows how much he likes, enjoys her company. She already knows he likes having her around to keep him busy, on his toes. She already knows that he enjoys messing with her, using her.

“That’s not a reason.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Fuck.” Dan gulps, and she watches his throat, watches his façade crack, eyes wide.

He looks childlike, innocent, and it amuses her in some twisted way she isn’t sure she likes, “I’m not this fuckin’ guy, alright? But I’m trying.”

“Why the fuck are you trying?” Amy rasps, “I know you. I know you. I asked you for help. I asked the Dan Egan who calls me an uptight bitch at least once a day to help me. I didn’t ask for this… fucking… Ken doll?”

It’s bad, and she knows it.

Amy closes her eyes, close the book, “I want you to be an asshole, okay? I need you to be an asshole, because this is creeping me the fuck out. We’re not playing house.”

“I know.”

“Look, we fucked, and now we��re fucked. That’s all this is. I don’t want you to buy me dinners or show me off. I’m not a fucking prize. Take me off the fucking pregnancy pedestal. Stop giving a shit. We aren’t those people.”

“I do give a shit.”

“Then give less of a shit.” Amy shrugs, watches as he rolls his eyes, bites his bottom lip. “It’s not like I’m asking a lot of you.”

You have no idea.

He grabs her ankle again (in one hand), and rests his other hand on her knee, “Amy, I don’t give a shit about you.”

I give two shits. I give five shits. I give many shits.

Jesus fucking wept, I give all the shits.

“See?” She smirks, genuinely, and pats the hand on her knee, “There’s my asshole.” She tries to avoid letting her touch linger over his knuckles. But it’s hard, and he catches her fingers in his grasp before she can pull her hand away.

“Does this mean I can sleep with other people now?”

“No.”

“God, you’re a bitch.”

“Maybe try something other than ‘bitch’ now that I’m actually carrying your child?”

Dan’s face lightens up then, and he runs his hand up from her knuckles to her forearm, “Like a pet name?”

“No.”

“You mean you don’t want me to call you pumpkin?” He grins, and pearly whites and transparent charm, “Darling?”

“Fuck, no.”

She goes to pull her hand away - because, honestly, this is a whole lot more time than she’s usually willing to spend letting somebody touch her.

But he doesn’t let go, and she holds her breath until resignation sets it. When it does, she grabs the book on her legs and places it in his lap, randomly settling on a page to read. He lets her, doesn’t oppose.

“Sweetie? Sweetheart? Sweet thing?”

Please be joking.

“You could just call me by my name?”

“Brookheimer?” Dan grimaces, “Baby?”

“Seriously, I’m gonna puke on you if you don’t shut your mouth in the next five seconds.”

“How about I keep my mouth open, but I stop talking?”

He moves the baby book from his lap, watches as her eyes drift over the closed cover. “You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t even have to do anything, just lie there.” His hands fly around the air then, and he’s pulling on her legs again, lying her down flat on her back against the mattress, her head propped up by her pillows, “And, you know, enjoy it.”

“Can I fake it?” Amy squirms when he draws her t-shirt up her belly, scrunching the cloth up below her breasts, warm breath dancing along her stomach.

“No.”

He shakes his head, and she can feel his hair against her abdomen, feel his nose brush against her clothed pelvis, his hands slipping below the waistline of her pyjama shorts.

“Hurry the fuck up then. I’m gonna fall asleep soon.”

Dan laughs (short, cut off), and he wraps his hands around the curves of her waist instead of pulling her shorts down, “You fall asleep on me and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Then you won’t get your fucked-up little mini-me.”

“True. Maybe I’ll just torture you a little bit.”

“Oh, and how exactly would you do that?”

“I have my ways.”

Amy’s eyes drift to a close when he starts kissing her stomach, from her chest to her navel, “Dan, you suck at foreplay. I doubt you could even get a horny nun wet.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Amy. You’ll live to regret it.”

She can feel his hand slip below the bottom of her shorts, pushing the crotch of her underwear aside to smooth his fingers along her slickness.

“Fine.”

It would have been fine if her phone hadn’t buzzed right at that moment, if Dan’s hadn’t done the same only seconds later.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He’s up before she can even collect herself, phone pressed to his ear, talking shit down his end. It’s Ben, she figures, given Kent is calling her.

“What?”

She sounds aggravated, she knows, but honestly she has zero fucks left to give at this point. Just as she was getting into things-

“We’re gonna need you to come down to the office… right now. Selina is… how do you say… having a meltdown the size of Washington? State, not capital.”

Of fucking course.

Amy doesn’t think she’s ever gone into work looking so… tired?

Fuck, she looks and feels like hell but it’s not even four o'clock in the fucking morning so, really, who gives a flying fuck?

And Selina is wearing silky pyjama pants, for fuck’s sake.

“Ma'am?”

Her voice is low, and her phone is tight in her hand, Dan is right behind her (as per fucking usual).

“Amy! Yes.” Selina starts, walking over to the blonde, patting her on both shoulders, “I figured it out.”

“You figured what out, ma'am?”

“The perfect campaign strategy.”

Sure you did.

She can practically Dan think as much.

“You’re gonna marry Dan, and we’re gonna get Wendy - Mike whatever’s girlfriend - to write a nice little piece about the two of you, and how you’re coping with this… situation. Okay?”

Yeah, because Dan hasn’t already thought of that or anything.

Yeah, because Wendy would definitely write a little piece about two people working for the boss who fired her husband?

Sure.

“Ma'am, believe me I’ve already proposed-”

“Oh, mazel tov, then.” Ben shrugs, half-assed and careless from his seat on the conference room sofa.

His feet are propped up and he’s holding that giant mug as though it’s his golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

“No.” Amy trails off, disapproving frown evident on her face, “No. I’m not marrying him, and I’m not gonna do any fucking interviews. I’m sorry, but-”

“Amy, I have never doubted you.” Well, that’s some serious bullshit. “You have been my right hand woman since day fucking one and, right now, I need you to do this small,” Selina pinches two fingers, “small thing for me. Okay?”

Sweet fuck, send help.

“People like pregnant people. It’s not my fault you opted out of an abortion. Lord knows I would’ve fucking gotten rid of it because, let’s be honest, your baby daddy’s no prince but, hey, this is where we’re at.”

She holds up both hands innocently, palms facing Amy, and then she’s walking around the room, poking a finger at Kent’s shoulder.

“Give her some stats or something.”

He looks confused, or really rather just baffled, so Dan takes this moment to pipe up, rounding Amy’s side and clearing his throat.

“We could say that we’re engaged,” he starts off, all cunning and smart, and Amy wants to strangle him and his fucking ideas, “right? We get a ring, we get a place, we get a… crib and shit?” He spins around to face the blonde woman then, brows raised, face proud. “Yeah?”

That’s already kind of our plan, genius. It’s not like you weren’t already scanning through apartments earlier.

She breathes out deeply, feels the bones of her neck creak, muscles tightening with discomfort, “We could, theoretically.”

Selina seems intrigued, “And you’d be on board with this, Ame?”

“Can’t be any worse than actually marrying him, ma'am.” She mumbles through gritted teeth.

“Well, you’ve got a real fucking valid point there.” She agrees, clicking her tongue, squinting her eyes in Leon’s direction. “What do you think?”

Where the fuck- Who told him?

“I think if I wasn’t involved in this shit show, I’d be trying to uncover the truth behind the whole thing.”

Definitely a creeper.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Dan pulls a face, “It’s not like it’s a fucking assassination plot or anything.” He points out.

“Realistically, Dan, if word did get out that you were fake fucking then it would be an assassination, of character. Your candidate’s.”

Selina points a finger at him, stares at Amy with wide eyes, “He has a point.”

She scratches the side of her face, sniffles.

“You fuckers better, I don’t know, grope each other in public or some shit because I’m not having my campaign fall apart when people find out you’re not really together.”

Well, it’s not all fake… The fucking is real, at least.

“Ame? You’re gonna have to let him fondle your tit over a candlelit dinner or something, okay?” Selina eyes her, “Blow him in the back of an Uber if you have to, I don’t really care.”

This is just an abso-fucking-lute disaster.

“Sure thing, ma'am.”

“You,” she turns to face Dan, allows Amy the room to breathe and walk over to the water dispenser, “You need to buy a ring. Pronto, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Ben nods, head leaning over the arm of the sofa, eyes closed, “And Amy’s a nice girl, so she needs a big rock.” His adds in his casually monotone voice.

Dan rolls his eyes, stares off at a wall with a blank expression, “Right.”

“Don’t you sass me, Danny Boy.”

“Jesus Christ, do you wanna just pick the fuckin’ ring for me?”

“Boys!” Selina shouts, slamming her hands on the table, startling Gary (half-asleep, dreaming), “Can we not do this right now? I’d like to go home soon. Some of us are exhausted.”

Amy coughs at that, at the sheer hypocrisy of Selina’s comment.

“Well, some of us we’re otherwise preoccupied, but, whatever.” Dan retorts, pulling a pissed-off face, head tilting to the side. He regrets it as soon as Selina as focuses her attention on him.

“Really, Dan?” She glares over at him, raising a brow when he slips his hands in his pocket, walks closer to Amy, closer to the exit. “It’s the middle of the goddamn night and you’re worried about your fucking blue balls?”

Don’t.

“To be honest, it was more about giving than receiving.”

Please.

“Yeah, you know what? I figured you were a giver when Amy walked in here with her legs pressed so tightly together that it looked like she was trying to walk with something shoved up her snatch.”

Fuck.

“Go home. Fuck her. Fix her.” She waves a hand over at Amy, and the younger woman is seriously gonna burst any second. “Ame? If he doesn’t get you to come, you tell me and I’ll happily castrate him for you.”

Amy only hums in reply, picks up her abandoned purse from the table, and turns to face Dan with a serious look. He seems to get the gist because he reaches for his coat and leads the way out of the office.

“She’s insane.”

“She knew you were all hot and bothered, at least.”

“Is that really all you can think about?”

“You closing your legs so tight you’d practically be smothering my dick if it was up there?” Dan shrugs, presses the button to the elevator, “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty fuckin’ hot.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see.”

#veep #dan x amy #amy brookheimer #dan egan #veep fic #fic*#ship: dan x amy #ch: amy brookheimer #ch: dan egan #iaa*

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anna-liz-fiction-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Meeting Sherlock Holmes | Part 2 | (Sherlock x Reader Fluff)

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: language

Words: 1767

Writer: Anna

“Thank you for your attention.”

With those words, you finished your presentation in front of the directors and other important members of the psychology department of the Kings College of London.

A massive wave of relief swapped over your whole body and the smile which you had forced for the last hour, appeared completely naturally on your lips.

Finally, this nerve wrecking event was over. For weeks it has been hanging over your head like a sword of Damocles.

When your former professor called you two months ago and told you that the Kings College was searching for a new member in their psychology department for the upcoming semester, you didn’t even need to think about your application twice. It has always been your dream to teach - to share and discuss your knowledge with others.

And now the presentation was done.

You did your best and couldn’t influence the outcome anymore. But what was already safe to say, that whatever the result of it may be, it would have effects on your career and could be a turning point. For either the better or the worse.

Right now you were working as a psychologist in a small doctor’s office in

Brighton. And even though you loved to work there, with the increasing time and experiences you gathered over the years it got quite boring.

Because in the end, every single problem seemed to repeat itself.

All you did was helping people out with their marriage problems or talking to patients who suffered from depression or social anxiety.

It bored you because no psychological problem was really outstanding or needed your full capability as a psychologist.

A job in London could change that. Even if you wouldn’t get the new position as a professor at the College, you planned on staying here.

And if you by all chances would be employed, you hoped to start your own research again. Something that you were always interested in has been criminal psychology. It was exciting to try finding out how the masterminds behind some of the most vicious and cruel crimes were working.

But it wasn’t just the bad guys you were fascinated with. Also, you wanted to figure out how the good side functioned. In particular, there was just this one person in whom you started to show a bigger interest. The detective Sherlock Holmes, living in the flat right above you.

You didn’t come to London with the intention to move into Baker Street 221 B. It just somehow happened by meeting Mrs. Hudson in a cafe while going through a complete breakdown, caused by your overburdened nerves. She was so sweet by just listening to your story: how you just couldn’t find an apartment because the bloody rental fee for every damn apartment in London was so high, how you quit your safe and rather well-payed job for an opportunity of which you weren’t even sure of having.

She listened for good half an hour before inviting you for a cup of tea to her home and showing you the basement flat of her house.

All those thoughts flashed through your mind within seconds while packing your presentation tools together. The last thing you did before leaving the auditorium behind was crossing the fingers and wishing for the best. Maybe you were lucky enough to get the job.

❀

With a deep sigh, you put the rainbow-colored umbrella beside the closed apartment door. All you wanted to do now was to go to bed. But after a glance on your wristwatch, you decided otherwise. It was just after three o'clock in the afternoon - nobody under eighty-five should be napping around this time.

Since the presentation had ended it had started rain outside. But not just the normal London-like rain shower, more like somebody up there was continuously pouring out buckets over the city. But you were too much of a logical person than to take it as a bad omen for the outcome of your appearance at the Kings College.

While taking off your shoes and putting them neatly in their usual place, you noticed something strange. Somebody had shifted your doormat slightly.

“Hello? Somebody there?”, you asked suspiciously into the until now empty thought apartment of yours.

Nobody answered. For a moment you thought you were just imagining things and started to walk towards the kitchen, as the smell of a cigarette came flowing at you.

Shortly after that, you noticed somebody sitting on the sofa. It was Sherlock Holmes, holding a cigarette in the one and your favourite mug in the other hand. The coffee table in front of him was practically buried under a massive amount of different files and papers and right next to him were standing five paper boxes.

“Mr. Holmes. What … unexpected pleasure”, you stated and took a seat in the old armchair right across from him.

“What do you mean with unexpected? You were the one who invited me to come over for tea”, he explained to you while keeping on staring into a file. It appeared rude to you, but then you had to remind yourself, that this was just his persona.

“Yes, I have said that a few days back. Even though I don’t remember agreeing on either a day or a time. But now that you are already here, I still have one question … how in the devil’s name did you get into my apartment?!”

“I asked.”

“Whom?”, you wanted to now. Because until now, you haven’t given anybody the spare key to the flat. Also, you didn’t hide it anywhere. If you would lock yourself out anytime in the future then Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock would let you in. Even though you weren’t all too sure if the person mentioned last would actually do it.

Still reading the file in his hands, Sherlock mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“Mrs. Hudson, for Goodness sake!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing it, so you just had to ask again:

“The housekeeper let you in my apartment?”

“Don’t ever call Mrs. Hudson the housekeeper in her presence. There is nothing she hates more than that.”

With every statement of Sherlocks, you felt your blood pressure rise. Even though you were highly fascinated when it came to him and his work, he had something which made you furious.

You were trying to calm yourself by inhaling and exhaling slowly a few times before deciding to get back to the main reason: “Why are you here anyways?”

With that question addressed at him, Sherlock finally looked up from his file. Just to roll his eyes at you while answering: “You invited me for tea. I told you that before. Why do I have always to repeat myself when I’m with you? Are you stupid?”

Don’t answer that, Y/N, he’s just trying to provoke you. Don’t let him get to you.

“What is with those files then? Doesn’t look like the common books you read while drinking tea, for me. More like you decided to move your office down here.”

The last part of your sentence should have been a joke actually, but seeing Sherlocks completely emotionless face, made you suspicious. Questioning you raised your eyebrows.

“I indeed just met a client. How did you know?”

“Wait a moment! You met one of your clients in my apartment? What the bloody hell?!”

“I thought it was useless to let them carry the files up to my place if I would going to ask you for your help anyway”, he explained, sipping on his cup of tea.

And there he sat on your sofa, looking at you without even thinking about apologizing.

"Them? So you mean not just ONE unknown person was in my apartment without my knowledge, but a whole BUNCH of people?”, you were breathing heavily and tried your best not to scream, “do you have even a tiny bit of decency?”

“Oh come on! If-”, Sherlock started, but you didn’t let him finish.

“ You are unbelievable! You practically break into my apartment and then you are not even apologizing!” Your chest was raising and sinking heavily with every breath you took.

“Okay, I’m sorry! Everything good now?”

Completely surprised by the unexpected apology out of the mouth of Sherlock Holmes you just sat in the armchair for a moment. Taking your silence as an agreement to what he had said before, Sherlock carried on:

“So are you going to help me?”

“Help you with what?”, you asked baffled. Out of your fury, you have totally forgotten about that part.

“A Case. Somebody broke out of the asylum. Everything you see here are medical records and secret files. I need somebody who helps me to go through them.”

Sherlock placed his tea mug on top of a stack of files and leaned a bit forward like he was about to tell you another secret.

“Don’t you usually do this with your friend?”

“Busy”, he replied quickly on your question.

“Why can’t it wait?”, you countered just to get on his nerves. You tried to hide that smirk of yours as best as you could because he had you hooked after he asked you to help him.

“Because my brother thinks this man is planning a terrorist attack.”

“Why me?”

With every question of yours, you could see his annoyance and frustration levels rise. And with every passing second, you had more fun playing this game.

Sherlock sighed and put his face into his hands, mumbling: “Do you always talk so much?”

Openly smiling now, you embraced your triumph. In your opinion, it was just a little teasing which could have gone on forever, but seeing that he really wanted your help, you decided to stop.

“Okay. I’m in.”

At your words, he looked up at you and smiled. It wasn’t the same smile as the one he gave you a few days back … this one was brighter and reached his blue eyes.

“Great. Here you go.”

He shoved a pile of files over the table and went back to reading his own.

For a moment you looked at him. You didn’t know how it was possible for the two of you to fight but then get along within a matter of seconds.

And for sure with Sherlock Holmes around you wouldn’t get bored anytime soon.

MASTERLIST FOR THIS SERIES

#sherlockxreader #readerxsherlock #sherlock #sherlockholmes #fanfiction #sherlockfanfiction

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takarazuka-rpf · 8 years ago

Text

ITEIWAY 7

Disclaimer: This is an RPF (Real Person Fiction) meaning anything written here does not reflect the events in real life.

Chigi:

After waking up that morning, a throbbing headache immediately hit Chigi's head. Still a bit disorientated, Chigi slowly pushed herself up trying to figure out where she is. With a hand rested on her painfully head, she looked around to see where she was. When her vision slowly went into focus, she saw Mattsu walking towards her while carrying something. Looked like she had fallen asleep in Mattsu's house.

'Here. Drink this, it will ease the headache. My wife gave me one a few hours ago too and I feel a lot better now.’

Chigi smelt the liquid presented to her which seemed to be some sort of medicinal brew. She took it from Mattsu hands and held it within her own and took a sip. Immediately, her face scrunched up as it was absolutely vile and probably the bitterest thing she had ever tasted.

'Hahaha I know, I had the same reaction. But my wife made me drink it all so you have to as well.’

In no position to argue, Chigi obeyed and down the weird concoction in one go.

'Can I brush my teeth? Do you have a toothbrush and toothpaste I can borrow?' Chigi said whose face is still scrunched up because of the taste.

'Yeah, go to the upstairs bathroom, we already laid it out to you.’

'Thank you.' Chigi gave Mattsu a friendly smile and got up but found herself to be slightly wobbly on her feet. Mattsu's hands immediately went to help stabilise her friend and said, 'Want me to help you upstairs?’

Chigi felt a blush rising to her face and said, 'No no it's fine, I can manage.' Mattsu let go of her with uncertainty and Chigi made her way slowly, but surely, up the stairs while holding onto its railings.

Once she got to the bathroom she closed the door behind her and put her arms on the sides of the sink while taking a deep breath. She looked up and saw her reflection in the mirror. She was a complete mess. Chigi vowed then that she would never drink that much ever again.

She turned the tap onto its cold side and splashed her face a few times with it. Feeling more refreshed, she lifted her head and saw the toothbrush and face towel Mattsu had laid out for her on the window sill. Right now she couldn't be more grateful to have a friend like Mattsu.

Once she had washed up, she headed downstairs again and heard Mattsu shout, 'We're in the kitchen Chigi-chan! Come in for breakfast whenever you're ready!’

'Alright I'll be there in a sec!' Gosh, she wished she was Mattsu's and her wife's adopted child. Life would be so easy with them around.

Still a bit groggy from just having woken up, Chigi lost her balance a bit and bumped her leg on the living room coffee table and proceeded to knock off the remote control onto the floor.

The TV switched on and Chigi shouted in the direction of the kitchen, 'gomen! The remote control fell on the floor!' Chigi bent down to pick up the remote but when she looked up to turn off the TV, she felt all blood drain from her body.

It was the morning news broadcast, and it was currently reporting the events that had happened last night.

On the TV screen, were blurred but clear enough pictures of twopeople outside a grand looking hotel together with a caption saying 'Heart-break for fans across Japan! while the reporter explained the pictures in the background.

Chigi, of course, would recognise one of them from any whereas it was none other than Sakihi Miyu.

Miyu: (What happened the day before)

'So did you say yes?' MoMo has stopped pacing and is now staring down intently at Miyu eagerly waiting for a reply.

It had been half an hour since Haruto-kun left her trailer and MoMo is now here interrogating Miyu about what had happened. As of the moment, Miyu was still hazy as to what had happened as her mind was all of the place.

Miyu looked up at MoMo and said, 'I-I don't know.' After hearing that, MoMo gave an exasperated sigh and wondered what she was going to do with this clueless child.

'Before I even processed what he had asked of me, he was already out of the door! I-I can't recall what I said to him afterwards.' Miyu was in a slight state of panic and MoMo thought she would calm the girl down before she has a mental breakdown.

'Hey hey look at me.' MoMo put her hands onto Miyu's shoulders. 'Don't worry it'll be fine. But let me just ask one thing ok? And I want you to think carefully.' Miyu nodded and waited patiently for MoMo to pose her question.

'Do you have feelings for him? Do you like him?' MoMo said while looking at Miyu's face closely as if to search for something.

Did Miyu like Haruto-kun? Of course, as a friend.

But romantically? Well that is another question to be answered.

Did he make her heart pound? No, was the answer which popped up immediately in Miyu's mind. But she has to admit, during those intimate scenes while shooting, her heart may have sped up a bit.

And did she find him attractive? Well of course, who didn't? He is full of charisma, talent and let's not forget, devilishly handsome as well. She was sure that even the men around him found him attractive.

But did she want to be with him? Did she care about him in an unique way? All the answers to these questions seemed to project a big 'NO' in Miyu's head but her mind is still too muddled for her to put all these information together.

As if MoMo could see the clockwork of processing in Miyu's head right now, she thought she would help Miyu out by giving her the ultimate question.

'Ok let me ask something else, this may help you.' Miyu waited and MoMo then said slowly and clearly, 'how does the feeling of spending time with Haruto, compare with the feeling you get when you spend time with you know who?' MoMo must have thought she was a genius having thought up with this question.

Miyu was about to ask who 'you know who' was but not a second later she realised.

Sagiri Seina. The woman who haunts her dreams, the woman whose name she mumbles in her sleep and the woman who occupies her mind 85% of time. Almost immediately, her head seemed immensely clearer and so, she began to answer MoMo's question in her head.

Compared to the feeling she gets from being around Haruto-kun, Chigi-san was warmth. Chigi-san was home from where Miyu would never want to leave from. Chigi-san was happiness, a feeling Miyu can never be tired of. Chigi-san was her sun, the only brightness when everything else was dark. Yes, this is how she felt about Chigi-san, in fact this is how she had always felt about Chigi-san. All throughout their reign as Top Combi in Takarazuka and all the way up till now.

And just like that, Miyu realised how much in love she really was. Her mind had never being more at peace with itself before and she felt like she could die right now, content with the fact the realisation has finally settled within her.

She couldn't wait to see her again. She was ready to lay out all her feelings, to confess.

'Nothing. Compared to her, he's nothing.' Came a simple, confident reply from Miyu.

MoMo nearly chocked out a laugh because she had never imagined anyone would describe Haruto Akio as 'nothing' before. This girl must be head-over-heels in love with Sagiri-san and MoMo cannot wait to meet this woman in the future. She prays that kami-sama would give these two a happy ending.

'Knew you would say that,' said MoMo as she gave Miyu a wink and a knowing smile.

All of the sudden they heard a noise. It sounded like a text message alert and it was coming from Miyu's bag. Miyu and MoMo gave each other a wide-eyed look because Miyu's work phone was with MoMo therefore it must have been Miyu's private phone. Wondering who it might be, Miyu immediately jumped to action and took out her phone. She hoped it was from Her.

Eh? An unknown number? Miyu unlocked her phone and read the message.

Hi Miyu-chan,

This is Haruto-Kun, I realised I may have shocked you a little today with the question in your trailer but I had being wanting to ask you out on a date for a while now but never really had the courage to. But hearing your 'yes' made my day and I'll probably be happy for several days to come. Anyway, if it's ok with you, I will collect you outside your house at 6 o'clock tonight. I made a reservation for us at the restaurant in XX hotel in Tokyo and I have told them to start the preparations now so there's nothing you need to worry about. I hope we'll enjoy our evening together.

See you tonight,

Haruto Akio

-Unknown Number

So, Miyu did say yes after all. Oh gosh, what was she going to do now?

But wait, how did he know her private number? Even more so, how did he know where she lived?

'That's strange… how did Haruto-kun know my phone number and my adder…' Said Miyu with a questioning look on her face. She looked up at MoMo for answers which Miyu didn't think MoMo had the answers to but MoMo was being suspiciously quiet and was looking nervously at the floor.

'Um…yeah about that… I may have told him all those things…oops haha,' laughed MoMo nervously. Complete utter shock took over Miyu's face and just as she was about to ask MoMo 'why?' MoMo interjected.

'But I didn't know his intentions I swear! I thought he was asking, you know, as a friend, I didn't think he had other plans. I swear to you Miyu, I had no idea about any of this.' Explained MoMo in a frantic fashion which was so different from her usual style.

If there is one thing Miyu knew about her personal assistant is that MoMo would never lie to her. MoMo is probably the most truthful and blunt person there is and she's never afraid to tell you the way it is. Therefore, she believed MoMo. However, it was still true that Miyu was a bit cross with her. Miyu let out a groan of frustration.

'What am I to do now?' Whined Miyu with her shoulders slack and head back looking up at the trailer ceiling.

'Well why don't you just cancel? What's he going do about it? Force you?' Scoffed MoMo, she wasn't going to let Haruto lay a finger on her if Miyu didn't want him to.

'But the reservation… can we just cancel it like that? The hotel staff members had already started preparing…' Miyu started to panic again and MoMo rolled her eyes at Miyu's favourite hobby to do which is to overthink.

'Ok fine, go then. Just don't think of it as being a date. Think of it as eating food together with a friend.' This was the best solution MoMo could think up right now to deal with the current Miyu.

'True but wouldn't Haruto-kun still think of it as a dat-’

'Less worrying about what he thinks ok? If he makes a move one you, just straight up reject him. Miyu you have to learn to be more assertive.’ Miyu can feel MoMo was reprimanding her now.

'But what if there are paparazzi?'

There. That ought to be the perfect reason to cancel this 'date' surely?

'Today's Wednesday isn't it?' MoMo asked and Miyu gave her a nod back who was wondering what MoMo was about to say.

'Then there shouldn't be too much to worry about. Paparazzi's are mostly active near to and during the weekends so there shouldn't be many of them out and about during a random Wednesday night I should think.’

Miyu wanted to argue but instead decided to continue tolisten to MoMo's reasoning. Because she really didn't want to bother the hotel staff or waste a reservation. What if someone else had also fought that reservation?

'Also I've been to XX hotel before. Not only do they have security inside and directly outside the building but they also have staff patrolling the areas around the building for paparazzi, as they are aware that their hotel is a popular gathering place for celebrities.' It sounded like MoMo was trying to convince herself as well but her reasoning seemed to be valid.

'So you really think I should go?’

MoMo paused for a moment and said, 'I think you should. Come on he's buying so it means you get free food tonight. FREE food Miyu! Who can resist free food right? I know I can't.' And with that MoMo wiggled a playful eyebrow at Miyu. Miyu didn't think her personal assistant was such a foodie. She had being learning a lot about MoMo these days now that their relationship have improved. But maybe MoMo was right, perhaps she had been thinking too much.

'You sure?’

'Sure. Everything should be fine. Go for it, go for the expensive, delicious free meal.' Miyu didn't really care about the last part of the sentence but the word 'should' didn't sit well with Miyu.

However, she did not want to think anymore. She can't be bothered. In fact, she was more nervous for the meal coming up with Chigi-san in a few weeks' time than the one coming up tonight.

'Ok, then.’

Miyu took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It's just dinner right? After all, it's not her first time eating dinner alone with someone else. In this business, an invitation by a co-star or a TV producer to have a meal together happens all the time! So in Miyu's mind, this will just be another one of those friendly invitations by another co-star to have dinner together.

What's so bad about that eh? And throughout the rest of that day, this is what she told herself.

However, the world can be a cruel place to live in sometimes. Because at the most unexpected and unwelcomed times, it decides to play a joke on you.

Because that night when Miyu and Haruto had finished their what-had-been-a-pleasant-and-discrete 'date', a figure was watching them existing the hotel together from the opposite side of the street.

In fact, the figure had been hiding in the shadows ever since the pair had arrived. The figure was perfectly disguised as a tramp and was now watching them as the pair entered the car Haruto used to pick up Miyu in. The figure then took out a small device from his coat pocket and took a few photos that he knew would earn him more than any picture ever had.

MoMo had been wrong about one thing and a surprise was waiting for them in the morning.

#chigimiyu #real person fanfiction

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