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junosartsthetic · 3 years ago

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Feel like I'm requesting too much 3 with Tenya Iida :)

“Have you ever felt like this before?”

Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend getting carried away with writing. We meet again. But seriously. I love writing and you can never request too much. I love fulfilling requests. And this was super cute to write!

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d never been to a theme park before. Being that he was from a rich family, you were surprised. Though, being that Tenya was all work and no play, you shouldn’t have been too in shock.

You, being the daredevil you were, dragged him straight to the most intense coaster in the entire park. Lucky for you, Tenya had managed to buy some fastpasses, thus you ran straight to the start of the ride, bouncing excitedly.

“Are you positive these rides are safe,” he mumbled to you. You shot him a look.

“Umm, yeah?” You noticed he shook slightly. “Are you scared or something? We could have planned something else to do for fun, ya know.”

You nudged his arm. “We’re friends. You can tell me if you don’t wanna be here. I won’t be mad or anything.”

He shook his head, giving you his usual friendly smile. “No, it’s okay. I want to try something new. And I want to spend time with you.”

One of the operators gestured to the two of you, pointing to the front of the coaster. “Alright, the two of you get row 1.”

You squealed happily. “Oh yeah, this one is especially great in the front row because you can see the giant drop before you start going!”

Iida’s smile lessened. “Sounds… great.”

You sat down, Iida taking the seat next to you. You pulled down your restraints, locking yourself into place. “Just pull it down over your head,” you said. “They’ll come and double check you’re strapped in.”

He did as told, and after a quick check, you heard the main operator give the all clear.

“Have fun, folks,” she called. “And enjoy the 300 foot drop!”

“The WHAT?” Iida cried, nervously looking around. You put a hand on his leg.

“It’ll be fun,” you reassured. “Don’t worry.”

The car began to climb up the hill slowly, chains rattling as you were pulled higher and higher into the air. You could see the entire park, and you made sure to note the locations of the other popular coasters.

Meanwhile, Tenya looked around helplessly.

You heard the pull chain stop, and looked down at the massive drop dead ahead. “Alright, now be sure to pose for the camera. It’ll be at the middle of the drop!” you yelled.

Tenya didn’t have time to respond, the car roaring down the hill. You felt your butt leave the seat, and whooped excitedly. You managed to throw up a peace sign as you passed the camera.

You turned towards Iida as the car squealed up the first loop. His eyes were wide, and he gripped the sides of his glasses to keep them from flying off his face. Despite this, he had a large smile on his face.

“See! It’s fun!” You yelled. “It’s like using your quirk but you get to go upside down and stuff!”

His shoulders relaxed when the coaster slowed at a plateau, preparing for another massive drop. “You were right, these are exhilarating!” he yelled back to you.

His voice quaked with nervousness, but he was buzzing with excitement.

When the coaster finally pulled back into the station, he was smiling widely, clapping. You’d never seen him so relaxed before. “I see what all the commotion is about!”

“I told you!”

You wasted no time in leading him to all the best rides in the park, and by the end of the day your brains felt like scrambled eggs, but your adrenaline and excitement were unmatched. “We need to get souvenirs!” you said, gesturing to a shop beside the coaster you just rode. He nodded.

“Of course! I’ll pay for them!”

Normally, you would argue, but you decided to let it go. Afterall, he was rich.

You walked in, perusing the different shirts and hoodies they had. You spotted one you liked and grabbed two of them. “Here,” you said. “We can match!”

You set them on the counter and smiled at the employee. She smiled back. “D’aww. Matching shirts. Cute.”

Iida swiped his credit card.

She bagged the two shirts, handing them to you. She leaned in close. “Girl, he’s a keeper. These are overpriced as hell.”

You blushed. “Oh, umm, we…” you decided to simply smile and nod.

You and him exited the store, and you immediately threw on the shirt, telling him to do the same. “C’mon,” you said. “We gotta take a picture and post it. Let our friends know that I actually got you to ride a roller coaster.”

You pulled out your phone, smiling widely as you threw up a peace sign. Iida did the same. “Say cheese,” you said, snapping the picture.

You posted it to Instagram with the caption, ‘A fun day with the prez. P.s. @Denkichu I told you he’d enjoy it!’

You slid your phone back into your pocket, looking towards Tenya. “The park is almost closed so we should probably head towards the entrance.”

You noticed he was looking around in awe. “Wow,” he muttered. He clutched his shirt. “Have you ever felt like this before? I feel so happy. This has been the most I’ve smiled in a long time.”

You gave him a nudge. “I know. You’ve been smiling all day. You can always come here again, as often as you want, if you enjoy it. Maybe you can take some of our other friends along. I’m sure they’d be in shock at how much you like it here.”

He shook his head, turning towards you. “I don’t think it’s just this park. Being here with you is what really makes me smile.”

You clutched your chest. “Aww, you make me smile, too. That’s what friends are for!”

He suddenly looked away. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

You grabbed his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

He moved to grab your hand, pulling you towards the first roller coaster you rode. “Let’s ride this again. I need to tell you something before we leave here.”

You shrugged. “Alright.”

It didn’t take long for you to be off, creeping up the giant hill. This time, you could see the night sky, lights of the park shining below you. You were tempted to pull out your phone to take a picture but decided against it.

You looked towards Tenya. “Alright, so what did you want to tell me? Quickly, before we drop 300 feet and I start screaming.”

He gulped. “Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I appreciate you dearly. You’re a wonderful friend, and…”

The drop drew ever closer.

“I’m flattered,” you said. “But maybe get to the point a little faster…”

He clutched his eyes shut as the car stopped, starting to tip over the edge. “I think I’m in love with you!”

Your eyes widened, and the car careened downwards.

“Tenya!” you screamed over the sounds of the track. “Did you just say ‘I’m in love with you’!?” You couldn’t be sure.

“Yes!” he yelled, gripping onto his restraints as he dangled upside down. You noticed his glasses slipping off and clutched the sides of his face to keep them steady. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but this trip made me realize it! I believe that telling you is the best thing to do! I understand if you don’t reciprocate my feelings!”

The second drop was quickly approaching, and as the car slowed, you smiled at him. You brought his face closer to you. “Don’t be stupid, Tenya!” you said. “Of course I reciprocate your feelings, you nerd!”

He placed his hands atop yours. The car dropped, speeding down the second drop. “Do I have your permission to kiss you!” he yelled.

“Yes! Hurry up before we pull back into the station and get kicked out for PDA!”

With that, he closed the gap.

You pulled away from him just as you slid to a stop. Your cheeks were burning, and your adrenaline was pumping wildly through your veins. That was the most heart-racing thing you’d ever done.

You cleared your throat as you pulled back into the station. Quickly releasing your restraints and hopping out of the car, you dragged him out of the coaster and back onto the main walkway.

“For such a formal person,” you quipped, leaning against his shoulder. “That was quite the confession.”

“Well,” he responded, fixing his glasses awkwardly. “You’re quite the person to confess to.”

You smiled softly, pecking him on the cheek. “Let’s get outta here. We still have time to get ice cream tonight.”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Of course. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

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fbfh · 4 years ago

Text

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

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omiscurls · 4 years ago

Text

for eternity and one day more

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader soulmate au (the last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written somewhere on your body) content warning: general angst, major character death, mentions of funeral, car crash, hospital

you wish you could’ve said tears made your vision blurry. but after all these days, your eyes were perfectly dry, no little rivers were streaming down your puffed cheeks, and you were forced to stare directly at your wrist, and the words tattooed there by some idiotic magic. some cursed, freaky foolery that made you rethink your life the past two days at least ten times, searching for even one mistake, for even one moment you could feel something wasn’t right.

but to your dismay, there was nothing. everything in your life fell to pieces so perfectly, as if you were the princess in a dream of every five year old girl in the world, only now could you realize, it was all too good to be true. well, except one part.

the words stared back at you, burning into your flesh, your glance holding them into place, as if they were to disappear if you did as much as blink.

“and one day more”, the tattoo said, directly and clear, never changing tint painted your skin black, no matter how desperately you wanted the letters to shift into something else. you wished to be hated right now. you wished for it to be an insult, and yet, the words remained as cheesy and painfully romantic as the first day you saw them.

so he wasn’t your soulmate after all.

all these years, never once had you doubted that. since the moment atsumu introduced him to you, since the moment he said “oh and i guess this is omi-kun, but it’s not like you’re gonna have a conversation wi—”

and since the moment he interrupted.

“i am perfectly capable of introducing myself, miya.” since the moment he glared at him, fingers constantly running through his hair, all messy from practice, by which he was visibly annoyed.

“hate to break it to you, but my actual prefered name is a bit more mundane than that cursed nickname”

“hey, i came up with that! it’s not cursed!” atsumu pouted, half mockingly, half serious,

“precisely” he mumbled, making the setter narrow his eyebrows even more, before huffing and proceeding to leave, “i’ll be coming back to practice. it was so nice of you to come! just yell at me if you want me to rescue you” he winked, and soon was gone.

“so? are you actually going to tell me your name?” you asked, one eyebrow raised, as his eyes focused back on you.

“please, like you don’t know” he chuckled, internally surprised with himself that somehow, his usual anxiety and disgust wasn’t kicking in, instead he felt relaxed and in place when talking to you, even if it was no more than thirty second since you met each other.

“oh, so you consider yourself a celebrity, huh?” you laughed, causing him to shake his head.

for a second he didn’t respond. you were starting to feel startled with the way he started at your smiling lips, but then he blinked finally, and answered.

“i have places to be and balls to spike, smiles. let’s just say...”

and that, that was the precise moment since which you knew. since the one line he said before running off, a smug smile you should never be able to see, and yet you did. you were sure and certain. this was your soulmate.

“... i only share that information with people i actually like”.

“sure you do, omi-kun!”

since that moment, your heart began to settle and as much as you pushed that thought away, saying that you were too young to know, and after all you just exchanged a couple of truly meaningless sentences with him, you couldn’t deny the fact that you knew. knew for a fact, that you’ve found your own person.

it was so random and sudden, so casual, countless evenings did you stare at your mirror and let your mind wonder, trying to find answers as to why you were feeling so strongly so fast. it was uncharachteristic of you, even if you were ever in love, you didn’t believe it could happen on such first sight, and yet there you were. was it the magic your parents always told you about? the one so inexplicable that they always stated that “you just have to feel it”, and “you’ll know when it comes”?

you thought it was just your lonely brain pulling tricks on you, until that one night you decided to hang out with the MSBY team, and went to tsumu’s apartment, waiting for hinata, meian and sakusa along with tsumu and bokuto.

you didn’t pay much attention to their talk, it was mostly plans for the upcoming season, until they shifted the subject.

“hey, did you ever read what was on omi’s wrist? he never covered it, but maybe that’s why i didn’t pay attention” the blonde wondered, his fingers playing with the edge of his glass. bokuto shook his head.

“no, i think it’s too personal to check. why’re you curious? you hope you’re his soulmate or what?” he laughed in his usual, loud way, and the word “soulmate” called for your attention.

“no you weirdo, it’s just he started covering it recently, and i just wonder, did he meet his other half?”

“my ma’ always said that there’re no other halfs, because you’re a person on your own”

“yeah yeah, cute, but not the point here, bokuto” atsumu sighed. “and he didn’t even tell me... bastard.”

there was comfortable silence between the three of you for a few brief seconds, before the blond setter started the topic again:

“hey, you’re oddly quiet, where’s your tattoo located?” he asked with genuine curiosity in his eyes, as you glared at your wrist, covered loosely with the bracelet you wore over it ever since you got the tattoo, it being something so intimate you didn’t want to share it with the entire world at once, concealers didn’t work on the ridiculously black tint, and the bracelet made it harder to read.

“you didn’t notice? thought you were observant?” you teased, making atsumu roll his eyes and take your hand into his, pushing the piece of jewelery away to read the caption.

“it’s on your wrist too? awh, maybe you’re omi’s soulmate!” he exclaimed looking at the writing from every angle possible.

“what’s written on there?” bokuto asked, not wanting to shift from his seat across the table.

“oh, it’s and—”

“we’re here!” hinata yelled at the same moment, giving you an opportunity to move your hand back.

and so it stayed a mistery.

you shifted onto the bed you shared, still messy after you both woke up those couple of days ago, earlier than you were supposed to, because of a text he got from his mother. a text that set him off for the entire day and finally caused everything that happened next.

your heart couldn’t stay still when you put your head over the pillow, the familiar scent of the other side of the mattrace hitting you no matter how hard you tried to hold your breath.

you noticed a small package laying on a nightstand next to your fiance’s side, and you went over to grab it, eyes getting hot when you realized what it was.

a set of band aids.

omi wore band aids on his wrist for as long as you could remember, but according to atsumu, he only started wearing those after meeting you. they were always on the inner side of his wrist, and after a while putting them on was his routine, it grew on him so much he didn’t even really think about it - just bought a pack once a week and put it on 2 times a day, for it to stay hygenic. didn’t make it a big deal or anything, but if you asked, he’d turn really gloomy, while also trying not to worry you too much.

“hey, weirdo, let me see what’s under that band aid. you of all people should know that if you get a cut, you can’t have it covered all the time, it won’t heal like this” you muttered against the couch you were laying on, gently grabbing his hand by the little finger, only for him to jerk it away, not even moving his gaze from the book he was reading.

“it’s not a cut” he just mumbled, eyes following the printed letters in utter focus.

“then why do you cover it?”

“i don’t want you to see it” he explained straight away, in the blunt way he always would, not finding any reason to keep it away from you.

“why?” you asked sincerely, apparently enough to bring his eyes away from the book. he reached out to grab the tips of your fingers into his and slowly rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand, a soft smile wondering on his face but never actually reaching to lift up the corners of his lips.

you couldn’t help but grin a bit yourself, making him raise an eyebrow.

“quit smiling at me, i can’t stop messing up what i’m saying if you look at me like that”

you giggled.

“like what?”

“nevermind, dummy. just... don’t worry about it. just trust me and don’t check, okay?” he pulled your hand to his chest so you’d come and sit beside him in the armchair. you curled up against his chest, hair still wet from the shower damping his t-shirt, enjoying the smell of his perfume and the delicate, intimate aura of the moment, even though curiousity wouldn’t let you out of its hold.

“is it your soulmate mark?” you asked, remembering the conversation between you and atsumu, about how he started to cover it.

“thought i told you not to worry, didn’t i darling? can i trust you that you won’t check?” he mumbled against your hair, and let out a breath when you nodded. he trusted you wouldn’t, and you didn’t.

although now you wish you did.

“what’re we reading?” your sleepy voice ended the silence in your living room after a while, your eyes too tired to see for themselves. sakusa shifted and relaxed in his position, taking a breath before he started telling.

“it’s called the orange girl. it’s a story of a boy reading letters from his dead dad, who wrote them while terminally sick, about a love story he shared with a girl, whom he met on the tram, she got his attention because she was holding a basket of oranges. she then disappears and shows up at random places at random times, acknowledging him but never actually talking, and they continue this hide and seek until she gives him a riddle, which he solves. they can’t be together for long, since he’s sick, but they had to, since their love was so true they couldn’t stay away from each other without falling into pieces. they were like the glue holding each other together, the mistery being the only shared link they had for a long time” he kept lowering his voice as he felt your head growing heavier and heavier against his chest, to the point he practically whispered.

“that’s... sad” you mumbled, half passed out, and he tried so hard to surpress his laugh, so it doesn’t bring you out of your blissfull state.

“i don’t think it is, no. see, they didn’t have much time with each other, but that was enough for them, they cherished every moment and would much rather spend so little together than eternities alone. no matter how long she’ll have to spend alone before meeting him again, she’ll love him forever, and so will he, even though he’s not physically there, i think it’s poethic.” he stated, getting hair out of your face, gently leaning forward to put the book down.

“just as i’ll love you.” he added, now thinking you were asleep completely “even if you’ll hate me. come on, big baby, let’s get you to sleep”

come to think of it, he always said he’ll love you forever. never an eternity, always forever. in his proposal, it was “always and for always” and whenever you fought and made up it was “for as long as the sun shines in the morning”

never an eternity.

it’s not like it was something bad, he could be really a master of his words if he wanted to, and if he ever used that one, you’d obviously get scared and tell him to quickly say something else, not to tease fate too much, but he never did.

as if he knew.

you wanted to show him just as much you respected him and his privacy after that night, scared by the last sentence he said, and thought you didn’t hear, and made it your goal to find a new set of band aids for the both of you. it was often “look, omi! i found ones with elza, from frozen! she reminds me of you, so here. take these”

“excuse me? if i get elsa, you get swen”

“why the hell would i get swen?”

or that time when for your anniversary you had ones custom made with some of his favorite song quotes. it was an inside joke, not much of a joke but much of an inside between the two of you, that always put a smile on your faces while still reminding you that before love, before passion and before even friendship, there was always trust and respect between the two of you.

and that reminder was often needed.

he could be a sappy romantic, at times, but it was still the sakusa kiyoomi you met that first day, still a blunt jerk, accents on jerk, still closed off, still a bit egoistic and cold at times. you two had similar tempers, and it often resulted in fights. very often.

you loved his fierce attitude, you adored his honesty. appreciated the straight forward notices when he didn’t like something you did, and liked the way he always spoke what was on his mind when around you. but sometimes what was on his mind didn’t exactly cover what you wanted to hear.

as you put away the box of band aids, your hand grazed over the photoframe still damaged from the one time he had to glue it back together after one fight, after he threw it on the ground to let out his anger in some way.

you yelled at him for your fair share of over twenty minutes, and only when your voice started to get sore, did he start talking, but whenever he wanted, venom could cover those sweet words he’d so often whisper, as if his sentences were sharp enough to cut through glass.

“why can’t you just let someone care about you?” you’d shout, voice cracking at the end, causing you to put a hand over your throat, realizing it’s time to stop talking.

“because you won’t understand! you’ll never understand! that’s the thing, y/n, you may try as hard as you want to, but in the end, you’re too—” he’d manage to bite his tongue before saying something he didn’t mean, and yet your eyes widened.

“too what? too stupid? too much of an idiot to mit the intelectual standards you have set? is that it?” you’d drag and tease, as every muscle in his body would tense up, fists curling as he’d take the frame and smash it onto the ground, soon realizing how much of an overreaction that was, but not just yet.

“stop putting words in my mouth! i never said you were stupid, for fucks sake—”

the door closing behind you would wake him up from his thoughts, as he whispered a quiet “fuck” under his breath, and go after you.

nevertheless you’d never leave, you always went to the bathroom, put some water in your face, take a few deep breaths, and by the time you were ready to go face him, he’d already have calmed down and would be ready to talk, apologize if it was his fault, forgive if it wasn’t.

cause after all, you were soulmates.

you were meant to be with each other. you wouldn’t survive with each other. two puzzles of the same picture, fitting perfectly, and not with anything else.

right?

he’d mutter the lyrics to can’t help falling in love while he’d occasionally do your hair, he’d come behind you while you were cooking and rest his chin on your shoulder. leave notes in your lunch.

he was the most thougtful person you ever met. the most precise in his actions, most affectionate in what he was capable of doing for you, most selfless in giving his all into bringing a smile on your face.

one night, he came home from practice, and there was just something so weird about him, you remembered, about the way he smiled almost like he was fifteen again, all excited and hyped.

you lifted yourself up from the bed, finding it hard to move, since the ache in your heart was roaming throughout your entire body,leaving you tired and defenseless. however you managed to get to the dresser, and search for one through your shirts.

“so, you know how i’m not the biggest fan of merch, right?” he said, his eyes lit up as he turned around to grab a nicely wrapped, loose gift from his bag.

“i know? you don’t understand the hype people get from wearing things that have your surname on it, you’ve told me countless times”

“yes, but—”

“you’ve also told me that doing figurines of living real people is somewhat creepy”

“yeah, that too—”

“and that the plushie they made with you scares the living shit out of—”

“i know! i know! but listen” he’d say, handing you the package. as you began opening it carefully, he continued “you know that because of privacy policy they can’t make the merch jerseys the exact same as the real ones? the merch has the surname and number smaller by 2 centimeters, and the space between each letter is wider by exactly a half of a centimeter. and since we’re redoing the shirts with a slightly different design, i ordered—”

“you ordered one more for me” you whispered as you held the soft material in your hands, the paper laying somewhere on the ground, by your feet.

“i ordered one more for you.” he finished, scratching his neck in a nervous gesture “i know that i’m not the best boyfriend—”

“fiance” you corrected.

“fiance, when it comes to letting you wearing my things, so i hope this makes up for it in a way?” he suddenly flinched as if he remembered something right in that moment “oh, and...” he reached to his bag again “these are my perfumes. if... oh my god, this is so pathethic, why was i so—”

you took the bottle out of his hand, and, since he didn’t like to hug right after coming home, you gave him the brightest smile you could.

“it’s perfect. you’re perfect.” you muttered, hand moving upwards to ruffle his hair and mess with him just a little bit “come on, go clean up, dinner’s almost ready”

would it be a violation of your agreement if you just wore his shirt now? it’s not like he’d come check. you didn’t need your own-his shirt right now. you didn’t need to have “the one original that no fan will ever have”, you didn’t give a fuck about those 2 and a half centimeters of difference that meant so much to you.

you hastened to open the bottom drawer, and then, folded nicer than your version, was the real, real sakusa kiyoomi number 15 MSBY shirt, the one and only, a little harsh from being used and washed a lot, but right now, there was no softer fabric in the world.

you hid your head in the folds of the jersey, begging for the tears that you knew damn well were building up to finally come out.

“you idiot” you whispered, “you idiot, you idiot, you fucking idiot!” louder and angrier every time you began wailing, the black material being the only thing covering your screams. “why’re you always so stupid? so... so fucking precise? couldn’t you spend one night, one night without me? one night in anger? you’d still be— you absolute, fucking idiot, sakusa!”

only anger and frustration came to your heart as you recalled all the things he did with you.

all the dances to classical waltzes at three in the morning in the small light over your oven.

your walks with his dog, faces white and noses red from the winter cold.

all the events you’d go to along with him, when he’d dress up all pretty and would ask you to do his tie, even if he was the master of the art himself.

the time he actually taught you how to tie a tie, while you were both drunk talking in your bedroom after a college party.

all the things he did for you. the good morning forehead kisses, the cups of hot tea with the exact amount of additions you liked, the way he always wrapped your scarf a little bit tighter around your neck, the way he’d remind you to wash your face if you were too tired to motivate yourself to get up and do it.

why would he do all those things with such ease, how did he memorise every single line of your character, every single habit you ever developed, if he

wasn’t your soulmate?

your sharp breath began to even out after a while, as you recalled the most recent events.

he was very set off that morning. his mother, who he hated with all the hatred available in his heart, texted him something about an alledged family dinner he had to go to that evening.

the text woke you up at six in the morning on a saturday, not making a great start to a day full of nerves. ever since that text, he’d been more irritable and annoyed than the usual. he didn’t finish his morning coffee, he got splashed with rainwater by a car while on his run, everything was wrong.

everything was wrong.

you left the stage of your relationship where you were afraid of making each other mad long behind you, and yet you were kinda afraid to ask for the basic things that day. like, what did his mother text him? why did it annoy him that much?

you didn’t know that at the time, but what woke him up wasn’t a text, it was a burning feeling under his band aid. he lifted it, noticing you were still sound asleep and looked at the writing. nothing had changed, but it was burning hot, and didn’t allow him to stay asleep.

“what the hell?” he mumbled, rubbing the skin, as if that was supposed to help, but there was no result.

“mm?” you mumbled, asleep, and he just glued it back on and laid down next to you again.

“nothing, don’t worry about it.”

nothing, don’t worry about it was a phrase he overused. not that he wasn’t comfortable with you, no, it was the complete opposite, but as he was raised in a very traditional way, some things were just meant to remain a secret.

it was a sort of protection he’d give you, protecting you from his dark thoughts, his mind that often didn’t listen to his commands, from himself, putting it short.

little did he know, all you ever wanted was to see those parts of him that he kept caged from you.

that was the one difference between the two of you that nothing could get over, but, even in a puzzle, elements have to be different in order to fit, right?

right.

you called yourself stupid as you recalled that now.

turns out you would fit, just... not together. but why would someone be so perfect for you, why would your heart jump out of your chest every time you saw him, if it wasn’t meant to be? why did it feel so right if it just wasn’t?

as simple as that. he wasn’t your soulmate, after all.

that night, you got into a fight. you finally told him how many fucks you give about him wanting to protect you, how secretive he is, how dumb and idiotic, and weak it makes you feel. how you hated it.

you glanced at the delicate ring placed on your finger, and sadly didn’t recall the moment he’d put it there with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, but the moment you almost took it off the other night, driven by emotions and stupid, selfish motives.

if only you knew then... if only.

you wouldn’t say “do i even truly matter to you, kiyoomi?” you wouldn’t laugh sarcastically, you wouldn’t stare at him as if he was the worst person on earth. you wouldn’t make him feel so worthless and so pathethic.

“of course you do. that’s why i don’t want to get into it, what’s so hard to understand about that? why is so hard for you to accept, that i may just have things that i’m not gonna share with you? where is that privacy and respect you so like to talk about, huh?”

“kiyoomi, respect for privacy is one thing, you’re just isolating yourself from me! what, did you get bored of me? did you realize i’m not fit for your fantasies anymore? is that it?” you did know you shouldn’t have said that in the first place, you knew you did it purposely and only to hurt him, but emotions have taken over your brain completely.

“what the fuck! i know you’re just trying to make me more mad so i say something i regret, don’t think i didn’t catch up with your sick methods already, mrs smart!” he turned around to face you, a heartbroken look in his eyes, as if the trust he had for you was disappearing by the second. instant regret hit you, but that was just the deal between you two, nobody knew when to zip it and back off.

“oh so i’m suddenly so bad, huh? so hard to deal with, is that so?”

his face went all white, blood rushing away as he heard those words.

“that’s right. i heard you talking with atsumu.”

“hey no, you’re taking it out of context, i would never mean it like that and you know it damn well”

“do i? do i know it damn well, kiyoomi? or do i just try to believe in something about you that just isn’t quite there?” tears appeared in the corners of your eyes as you realized it wasn’t about the text anymore.

“no. no, no, no, no, don’t go there. you need to calm down, you’re being ridiculous!”

“i am being ridiculous? I AM being ridiculous? you’re the one that makes me hate you right now!” you shouted, as you turned around, grabbed your keys and phone and left the apartment.

it’s fine, he told himself, you just went over to the bathroom like you always do, but minutes and hours flew by and he realized you truly... left? he searched everywhere, and you just weren’t there. he began to panic.

especially with his tattoo burning it’s way into his skin even more.

it doesn’t matter where you went, it doesn’t matter for how long. what matters is when your phone finally rang from someone else than sakusa kiyoomi and you picked up, it was the worst possible call you ever got.

he was at the hospital.

car accident.

drunk driver.

it was so obvious, it was so basic, it was so... idiotically predictable.

you obviously rushed there, obviously with fear at heart, but you didn’t fear him leaving you forever. he didn’t say his “and one day more” yet, right? he couldn’t go.

you checked every document, talked with every doctor, with every relative already present, even dealth with his hell sent mother and overprotective sister, and dismissed every single bad news, every single “he might not make it”, every “i don’t know wether he’ll wake up, it would be a miracle.”

and when you entered the room, he did look as if he was he was one foot in his grave already. you were careful to reach out to to his forehead over all the little cables and tubes, and get his annoyingly curly locks out of his eyes.

“why did you follow me, dumbass?” you whispered, eyes set on his closed lids. “you know i’ll always come back to you. i love you too much to leave, you know that, right? you’re aware? why did you do such a dumb thing? you’re smarter than this! we’re smarter than this!” you whined and whined, but to no response.

his mother gently informed you that it might be time to say goodbye, but you didn’t listen, you didn’t care. it wasn’t the day he’d die.

you stayed in his room alone for a little while, gently rubbing his hand with your thumb, mentally apologizing for being so, so difficult, and stubborn, and— and stupid!

you didn’t know what it meant when all the devices started beeping suddenly, you had no idea.

but even you would recognize that line that was supposed to jump at the speed of his heart rate going straight. you’d recognize that awful beep. that deadly calm on his face.

“hey. hey, hey, hey!” you started shouting. “don’t you dare leave me yet, you idiot! we still have so much to do together, no, no, no start working! start fucking working!” you screamed at his still heart, looking at the dark screen.

“no. no no no no no, i refuse, i won’t let you do me like that, sakusa, you hear me? you’re not allowed to—” you began panicking as you shook your fiance’s body desperately, barely managing to even move him a bit.

“wake up, you idiot, wake up!” was the last thing you said before your words started blurring together and becoming an incoherrent mess, before the doctors got into the room, before some nurse escorted you out.

that was the last time you’ve seen your boyfriend.

and now you were supposed to be getting ready for the ceremony, you were supposed to act like the composed, grieving partner, his never-to-be spouse, picture perfect form of sadness, yet you couldn’t pick yourself up from the floor, where you were sobbing in the material of the damn jersey, ironically, cause he’d be so mad for it, if only he was there.

honestly, anything would be better. any screams, silent treatment, any fight, any tears, anything. would be better than this.

because not only were you incapable of picking yourself back up after loosing your only love, you were also painfully reminded that this man, the man that meant the whole universe to you, he wasn’t your soulmate. he was never in the plan for you. and you were so mad, at whoever was up there, at fate, at god, at whatever, you couldn’t believe it, you felt like a glitch in a system.

he had to be your soulmate.

and yet the last words you heard and are ever gonna hear from him were “you’re being ridiculous”.

as you tried to get up from the floor, hands clenching around the material, you realized you have no idea what time it is.

you had no idea where your phone was, at that. you didn’t check it in over three days, you didn’t have the nerves to read all the “oh my god, are you okay? i’m so sorry for your loss” bullshit.

they would never understand “your loss”.

so as you finally found it somewhere in your purse, it was all out of battery. it took a while to charge it, and after you realized how little time you have until the funeral begins, you received a ton of messages all at ones, just as predicted.

you didn’t mean to go through them, you truly weren’t in the place to do so. but there was a chat that was always pinned at the top of the list.

your eyes widened.

1 new message from:

omi <3

your fingers and breath both shook endlessly as you pressed the highlighted font, eyes watering finally when you realized,

it was a voice message.

it took a while before you pressed it open.

sounds of traffic were heard, as if someone was calling you from inside a car. “hey there, smiles, it’s me, your favorite douchebag of a boyfriend! no, without all the jokes, we all acted on impulse, didn’t we? i’m sorry for all i said. you know i am. just let me explain it to you in person, okay? i’m driving around here, but you’re nowhere to be found, and your friends don’t know anything about where you are, neither does atsumu. you can be mad at me all you want, but please come home, okay? it’s getting late. we can fight but i won’t stop worrying about you ever, i won’t ever stop caring. please, baby, please tell me where you are? you’re not picking up, so that’s why i’m leaving you a voice message...”

your heart was beating like crazy as you listened to your boyfriend’s voice, realizing this will be the last thing you’ll ever hear him say.

“... anything is better than not knowing if you’re okay, y/n, any screaming and yelling you have planned for me, truly. i didn’t mean what i said, and neither did you. but i do mean that i will really try to be more open with you, if that’s what you want. i’ll try to make up for every mistake i’ll ever make. and remember, i’ll love you

for eternity, and one day more”

after that, his speech was interrupted by a loud noise, him saying “what the fuck” and some sounds of metal being smashed. and after that, there was a whole minute of silence.

a scream left your throat as you realized,

he was your soulmate, after all,

but you lost him forever.

after you finally made it to the funeral, greeted by your friend and hugged tightly by sakusa’s sister, coldly glanced by his mother, you realized, the cascet was open.

why the fuck. would they leave it. open?

“hey, sakusa-san?” you asked your fiance’s sister, and she turned around with a tired smile.

“please honey, call me by my first name” she said gently, playing with your shirt, as if she had to do something with her hands.

maybe it ran in the family.

“why did they... why did they leave it like that?” you pointed towards where your boyfriend surely was, and her smile disappeared suddenly.

“mother wanted it like that, honey. do you want me to help you go see him?” she grabbed your hand tightly and smiled, as much as she could, and when you nodded, she leaded the way.

it was hard. it was very fucking hard. you wanted to run, you wanted to disappear, to not be there anymore. he looked as if he was sleeping. as if he was going to wake up any moment. you swore his eyelid twitched at one time.

maybe you needed to do something with your hands too, because you noticed something wrong about his suit.

“who the hell made that?” you asked while reaching over to his hand.

“who do you think?” the woman sighed, pointing towards her mother.

“he has his sleeves uneven. he’d hate that” you chuckled under your breath, adjusting said sleeves, when suddenly, your fingers grazed over the black ink on his writs. you looked, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

wake up, you idiot! said the writing. you let out a breathy sigh as you reached over to your purse, and glued one last “frozen” themed band aid over the tattoo.

“you’re my eternity. and my more, too”

#haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #angst #hq angst #hq fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu icons

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radioactivechoirboy · 2 years ago

Text

Where Have You Been? Ch 3

River was only slightly aware that she had knocked someone over as she rushed out the door.

As far as she was concerned, they could sort out the incident when she got home because when it came down to it, it was really both of their faults. Sure, she could have slowed down just a little bit, but to her knowledge, most people with anything close to common sense or human decency didn’t move in until well after noon, and it was only about 10 in the morning.

She heard her new roommate mumble some obscenity under their breath just before she was out of earshot.

She rolled her eyes.

River couldn’t stand profanity.

In her eyes, there were roughly 171,146 in the English language; if you had to settle for one of the cheap words, then it said more about your own education and upbringing than it did about the situation at hand.

She generally kept her thoughts on the matter to herself, but she did tend to make her roommates aware of her stance, not to police their self expression, but more to keep the peace when they all interacted.

She had even had the idea to implement a swear jar in the common area, the change each month was put towards utilities or the rent.

It was the best thing she had come up with, but it did mean that their old roommate Gladys did wind up paying utilities most of the time.

River shook her head, a way to push her to clear her mind. It was a trick her therapist had come up with. Something about the physical action making the mental side all the easier.

‘Okay, today doesn’t have to be all that hard. Let’s keep it simple and break it into steps,’ she slowed her pace to a mall walk so she could keep her thoughts straight, ‘step one: go to therapy. That’s easy enough.’

She took a breath and adjusted the strap of her saddle bag. It had her smaller camera, tape recorder, pencils, and three separate notebooks. One with her dreams so she could show her therapist, one for her captions for the photos she was going to take at the fair that night, and the final notebook was for her notes from therapy.

She had gotten the idea from a man with thick rimmed glasses that she saw when she was a child.

His name was also a color.

It didn’t matter anymore, but her parents had taken her to him once a week, every week, for nearly five years. He was a nice enough man, but all he did was take a lot of notes and occasionally change her dosages of different medications, trying to solve her brain the way she had seen her brother try to solve a Rubik's cube.

Writing down where each path led, and when there was a dead-end, making a note, then trying a new combination.

The only difference between her brain and a Rubik's cube was that he never did solve it.

He did, however, give her the idea to start taking notes whenever she was in a meeting of any kind.

It didn’t matter if she was in book club or if she was at a doctor’s office. She had a pencil in hand and was taking note of everything.

It helped her make sense of everything.

Lost in her thoughts again, she almost tripped over the small step that separated the sidewalk from the office of Dr. Lamb.

River took a deep breath and bounced on her toes for a second. It wasn’t that she was particularly nervous, but she had noticed that her brain seemed to want to wander more and more when she was worked-up; and today, between the new roommate, the sudden realization that she was the one covering the fair, and the early morning wake-up by yet another odd dream, she found herself wound tighter than a spring.

Dr. Lamb opened the door before River even got her fingers around the knob. The quick movement caused River to jump in shock, she didn’t think she had been that loud.

To her credit, she hadn’t been, but Dr. Lamb had noted River’s history of being fifteen minutes early to every session.

“Good morning River, how’re you doing today?” Dr. Lamb greeted the younger woman cheerfully, holding the door open for her.

“It’s been a morning… are you sure it’s okay if we start before 10:30? I know you have other patients, and I don’t want to cut into anyone else’s session, “ River rambled on. “And I do know it’s early and I don’t want to cause you to start your day off on the wrong foot, believe me, I know how that goes,” she took a breath to continue when her therapist set a hand on her shoulder.

“Has it been another one of those nights?” Dr. Lamb asked gently, keeping her question as open as possible. She had learned early on that if it even sounded like she was making an assumption about her young patient, she’d shut down all over again and they’d lose weeks of progress. It had happened twice since she’d taken her on.

River lead the way into Dr. Lamb’s office and made herself comfortable in one of the big, plush chairs. She carefully pulled her therapy notebook out of her bag, along with a pre-sharpened number two pencil. Once she got herself settled, she set her bag on the floor next to the chair.

Dr. Lamb sat across from her, criss-cross applesauce, in a jumbo bean bag chair. She pulled out her flower print clipboard and pulled out a pen for her own notes.

“Okay River, what do we want to work on today?” She adjusted her glasses and gave the girl a small smile.

“Do you ever have weird dreams Dr. Lamb?” River crossed her ankles and looked over at her therapist, tapping the head of her eraser against her chin.

Dr. Lamb set her clipboard back down and folded her hands across her lap and smiled a big, toothy grin.

“Honey, I’ve had enough weird dreams to fill novels. Hit me with your worst,”

River actually smiled back before bending over to pull out her notebook full of dreams.

“You can read it if you want to,” She handed the journal to Dr. Lamb, who handled the book with the same level of reverence people reserve for family bibles.

She thumbed through the pages and read passages here and there, ghosting her finger over the lines to keep track. She noticed the pattern quickly, but was careful to keep her emotions fairly neutral.

The last thing she wanted was to make the girl aware of how upset the passages made her.

“You know, these remind me of something that happened back when I was just a little younger than you,” Dr. Lamb handed the book back to River before continuing, “ Back before you were born, there was a bit of an accident at the fair, you know that?”

River nodded, tucking her journal back in her bag.

“What do you know about what happened?” She asked the younger girl, still not bothering to pick up her clipboard from where she set it earlier.

“I know that one of the rides malfunctioned and some people died and I know it happened on my birthday,” she trailed off for a second, her eyes focusing on something behind her therapist’s head.

Her thoughts began to fill with the giddy excitement of going to the carnival and riding the tilt-a-whirl; she quickly realized those thoughts were not her own.

She hadn’t willingly gone to the carnival in her life.

She focused back on Dr. Lamb’s face before continuing, “but I think that’s all my parents ever bothered to tell me.”

Dr. Lamb took notice of the slowed speech and far off look.

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, a nervous habit of her own, “it looks like you know all the basics,” she cleared her throat before she continued.

She wanted to tell River how she had the same dream.

Not nearly as often, but how it was the same dream.

She wanted to tell River that she had been on the doomed ride with five incredible teenagers who gave up their lives so she could have a second chance.

There was so much she wanted to tell her, but it wasn’t her place.

“How about we look into some grounding techniques to help you get some more sleep?”

“You don’t think the dreams are weird?” River set her pencil down and watched Dr. Lamb’s face for any indication that she was doing this therapy thing wrong.

“Weird? Maybe,” Penny started, “but the simple fact of the matter is that dreams are designed to be weird.”

“They are?”

“Yeah!” Penny got up from her bean bag and went to the bookshelf behind her.

Laying on one of the higher shelves, was a yellowed book on dreams and how to interpret them.

“See, for years, people have been trying to figure out parts of their life, using their dreams. Some people are trying to use them to tell the future while some people think the dreams are windows into the human psyche,” Dr. Lamb flipped through the pages before handing the book to River, “You can read through it if you’d like.”

River stared at the book in awe.

It could hold the answer to everything going on in her head.

“Is it real?” She asked in a quiet voice, not taking her eyes off the book that was now sitting in her lap.

“I don’t put a whole lot of stock in the fortune telling side of it, but I have found that dreams are a great way for your brain to decompress,” Dr. Lamb let herself fall back into her bean bag to punctuate the sentence.

River looked back to her therapist, then back to the book.

Then she looked at her watch.

They were nearing the end of her session.

“Hey Dr. Lamb, could we schedule my next appointment for the same time next week?”

Penny hated to admit that she often lost track of time when River came in, it was much like talking to an old friend.

“Of course honey, any door knob confessions this week?”

River gathered her items, tucking the book and her notebooks back in her bag, placing her pencil back into the small elastic ring designed to hold it.

She stood up, stretched briefly, then smiled at her.

“I think I accidentally made Gladys move out and now I have a new roommate who I definitely already made a horrible first impression with,” she hurried through the sentence as she hurried out of the office and out the front door of the small building.

“See you next week!” She called out, already making her way down the sidewalk.

Dr. Lamb stood in the doorway of her home office and shook her head.

#ride the cyclone #ride the cyclone musical #ride the cyclone fanfiction #Where have you been?#river #ocean o'connell rosenberg #penny lamb #jane doe

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relenafanel · 4 years ago

Text

Dicks (in every definition): a fake-relationship AU

Geralt/Jaskier

Find it on Ao3: Dicks (in every definition) by relenafanel

FOR THE MODERN AU CHALLENGE. WEEK 1: Fake-Relationships

Tag: witcherauseptember

________

“I can’t believe anyone could be such an unmitigated puss-filled dick,” Essi said, staring at her phone in disbelief. Jaskier groaned and let his head thunk on the bar.

“I can.” His sticky forehead was the least disgusting part of the evening. He'd just come out to forget his ex, and maybe celebrate being free a little (as fucked up as that was) and quite frankly felt attacked by his social media.

“If I believed it from anyone it would be that narcissist,” she conceded, biting on her lip.

“I know,” Jaskier agreed. “That’s the worst part. I feel like it’s my fault being blindsided by this, as though I should have known something was going to happen today.”

Essi snorted. “It’s not your fault your ex is the worst.”

“No, but I was with him for almost 3 years. I don’t know. That’s my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Look at this desperate fucker. Do you actually think he’s winning? He might be in a new relationship but the look of this guy makes my vagina want to shrivel up and die.”

Jaskier took her phone from her and looked again. Yeah. Yikes. Valdo was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel with that one. Jaskier hadn’t even tried to join any dating sites post-breakup, but he was pretty sure there were better options. It wasn’t even the guy’s looks so much as he just screamed skeevy douchebag. It was making Jaskier’s metaphorical vagina also want to die.

“You need to get drunk. Maybe laid.”

“No,” Jaskier said, an idea starting to form as he looked at the relationship status change. “No. I need to match pettiness with pettiness. I need to find someone so hot that I’d have trouble getting him - let alone Valdo with his sad, small dick - and make sure to post a picture on Facebook.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

Jaskier smiled with teeth. “I think it would.”

***

It was their third bar of the evening and Essi was definitely sick of the manhunt. She probably hadn’t realized that when Jaskier was judging men fully objectively and not looking for matching personalities (relationship goals) or a willing body (one night stand goals) he had incredibly discerning tastes.

Probably too discerning.

“How about him?” Essi asked, barely looking up from her phone. She gestured to a guy sitting at the bar trying to make eye contact with a woman across the room.

“Ehh,” Jaskier said. “Sweater vest.”

Essi rolled her eyes. “But cute.”

“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for eye-searing hot.”

“I’m having trouble remembering how you’ve ever been in any relationships with these unrealistic expectations.”

“Valdo thought I was hot.” Jaskier thought about that for a moment. “Did I stay with someone for three years out of flattery?”

“Probably. Fuck. Get therapy.”

“I am.”

“You’re going to be working on tonight for a while.”

Fucking true. “Oh god, we just saw Valdo’s taste in men. Tell me true… am I ugly.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“You’re spiraling!”

“Yes,” Jaskier agreed, pulling at his hair. “I’m so aware.”

“Based on the guy in his status update I’m going to guess you’re the hottest guy he could get.”

“You’re a good friend.” Jaskier pressed his head against her shoulder.

Then, a table opened up across the room, revealing the man sitting on the other side of it. “Holy shit.”

Essi looked up. Then she looked up. “Wow.”

“I hope he’s into men,” Jaskier said. “Or at least willing to play along with pretending to be for long enough for you to get a picture.”

“You’re going to walk up to that?” Essi asked. “You have more balls than brains.”

That was probably true.

***

“Hi, I’m Jaskier,” he opened with, dropping into the seat across from the gorgeous man. Up close he was even more startlingly pretty, with a chin dimple that highlighted his strong jaw and drew attention to his mouth. “And my boyfriend broke up with me two months ago, only to post his new relationship on Facebook today. Our three year anniversary. It’s the dickest of moves, right?”

The man hummed in agreement, but otherwise didn’t stop frowning in Jaskier’s general direction. Like someone waiting for him to get to the point. Jaskier saw that frown often.

“The reason for the oversharing is that I just forced my best friend to follow me to three different bars to find someone so phenomenally hot for me to spend time with and get picture proof, and here you are. I’d do jazz hands but you don’t seem like someone who responds well to jazz hands.”

“What are jazz hands?”

Whoa.

What a voice. What a sexy, sexy voice. Jaskier knew what he was talking about. He was a connoisseur of voices.

Jaskier wiggled his fingers at him. Tada! “Jazz hands.”

“Huh.” The man took a drink of his beer. “You want to use me as a revenge plot?”

“Exactly. Can I buy you a drink?”

The man gestured to his mostly full beer. “I’m not drinking to get drunk tonight.”

That was only a no to the beer. “Nachos or some other foodstuff?”

The guy seemed possibly interested in food.

“Fine,” he agreed.

****

Facebook: Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia.

“Who’s Julian Pankratz?” Geralt muttered, staring at his phone.

“What?” Jaskier groaned, coming out a shitty sleep to a few realizations:

He’d gone home with the hottest guy on earth, which he should be pleased about, AND WAS PLEASED ABOUT

He might throw up

He’d done something last night. Something he’d said “that’s up for tomorrow Jaskier to sort out” because his drunk self was apparently a fucking masochist, and now Jaskier wasn’t really sure what that was.

Only Geralt was still scowling at his phone and seemed to know his real name.

So.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. His mouth tasted like nachos and the regret of doing shots too late in life. He was 28 years old, not dead, but his hangover didn’t seem to know that. “We didn’t get married , did we?”

“...”

Jaskier risked the light filtering in through the edges of the blinds to look at Geralt. His hair was beyond mussed - Jaskier didn’t know hair could get that tangled overnight. He was still frowning at his phone.

“I’ve been calling you Jaskier.”

“I go by Jaskier,” he promised. He was too busy having his own crises to deal with Geralt’s! For fucksakes. “Now, back to the marriage thing??”

“No.”

Phew. That was probably on him. He wasn’t sure people could actually get fake married overnight. Legally. He’d seen a lot of movies, though.

Ok. Next problem. “I might throw up.”

Geralt turned his head slowly to look at him. Yikes. Too much beautiful-man-face in his face for this early in the morning.

“It’s eleven,” Geralt told him in the dry tone that told Jaskier he’d said that all outloud.

“Eleven after getting to bed at what? Five? Eugh, boo. Do you have any food?”

***

Geralt did have food.

Well, Geralt had protein bars and electrolytes, which was basically the same thing. Jaskier could always fall on top of a burger on his way home if he had to. He’d finally looked at his phone by the time he was halfway through his breakfast.

107 new notifications.

What the fuck?

Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia

Geralt and I were going to wait until announcing this wasn’t an asshole move, but now that it doesn’t really matter, I just wanted everyone to know that I’m doing GREAT.

Attached to it was the picture of the two of them together that Essi had taken with the caption of “I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Jaskier tonight”

His drunk self had a lot to answer for. No wonder Geralt had been scowling at his phone.

“I can’t believe I went Facebook Official with someone I haven’t even had sex with yet,” Jaskier mourned. “What is it, 2007?”

***

It took Jaskier almost the full day to recover enough to actually look through his comments on Facebook. By the time he had, they’d almost doubled and he’d made the mistake of clicking into Instagram to find one of those quintessential happy-relationship-our-feet-are-cute-together bullshit pictures. He had a different following on Instagram, mostly using it for pictures of himself singing.

Yikes. Yikes. Yikes. This wasn’t a contained problem, if you could call their mutual friends and families on Facebook that had been gathering in the wings for 15 years a contained problem . Fucking Facebook. Jaskier friended people he’d met once. He had a database of acquaintances. It was great for - you know - being a musician looking for gigs. He’d done 15 weddings in the last year.

It was pretty shitty when he’d faked having a boyfriend so people wouldn’t feel bad for him.

But, as he read through the comments and realized that some of them weren’t for him, he realized that maybe he wasn’t the one with the biggest problem.

Jaskier: Did you just come out?

Jaskier: Are you EVEN INTO MEN?

Jaskier: I REMEMBER YOU THINKING THIS WAS FUNNY AND AGREEING TO IT

Jaskier: BUT

Jaskier: I REGRET COMMITTING TO CAPS SO SOON BECAUSE I MEAN THIS IN CAPS AND BOLDED

Jaskier: WHOEVER LAMBERT IS JUST CONGRATULATED YOU ON FINALLY GETTING DICKED DOWN BECAUSE IT MIGHT MAKE YOU LESS GRUMPY

Geralt: I see you’ve read the comments

Geralt: my brother

Jaskier: YOUR BROTHER?!

Geralt: bold and caps?

Jaskier: and italics what the fuck. Why’d you let me do this?

Jaskier: wait.

Jaskier: WAIT

Geralt: there it is

Jaskier: this was your idea

Jaskier: did you use me to tell everyone you know that you’re gay or bi or whatever you identify as?

Jaskier: what a brilliant opportunity last night was for both of us

Geralt: you went back to sleep and didn’t process any of this yet, didn’t you?

Jaskier had been seen with that, fuck. He made a face at his phone even though Geralt couldn't see it.

A few moments later a response to Lambert popped up from Geralt himself.

@Lambert who says I haven’t been getting dicked down this entire time you heteronormative asshole

Followed by someone named Yennefer posting a picture of a strap on.

Who were these people? Could you love someone based on how their friends reacted to their ill-advised fake-relationship status change? Asking for a friend.

Geralt: for context, that’s my ex-wife

Geralt: we’re ok

Geralt: especially when she’s helping me fuck with my brother

***

Jaskier was debating the merits of asking Geralt if he wanted to come up with a break-up plan or just date when another comment showed up.

Vesemir left a comment:

You’ll bring him to brunch tomorrow?

Geralt left a comment:

We’ll be there

Vesemir left a comment:

Leave the frightening device at home

Geralt left a comment:

He doesn’t need it

This was followed by a string of variations of LOL and OH SHITs from about 7 different people. Jaskier watched it all unfold feeling like he’d stepped into the middle of something he didn’t understand - yet. He was definitely in trouble, if the way his heart rate increased at Geralt’s he doesn’t need it was any indication. It wasn’t even the dick reference, though that was amazing. It was the snappy, quick response. The underlying sarcasm.

Jaskier had a type. He could end a fake relationship that was based on seeing a searing hot guy across a room, but it was a bit harder when the guy had a personality he liked. If Geralt turned out to have a heart of gold, Jaskier was screwed and would probably be proposing marriage by year’s end.

Yeah, we’ll be there , he commented.

Geralt: my dad

Geralt: thanks

Jaskier: no problem

Jaskier : gonna call

“So I’m thinking,” Jaskier said the moment Geralt’s face showed up on the video call. He was squinting at his phone like no one had ever tried to video call him before.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, looking amused.

“I’ve been debating the merits of planning a breakup for our fake relationship or just… dating? I’m thinking maybe we should date? Do you have input?”

“Dating’s fine.”

“But do you… are you even attracted to me? Would you pick me?”

Oh fuck, what was that?! Something new to bring up in therapy.

Geralt tilted his head. “You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m capable of saying no. Overly capable, some of my family might tell you.”

“So you’re not saying no?”

“I’m pretty confident I said yes instead.”

***

“As Jaskier’s best friend and the only witness,” Essi said into the microphone, holding up a glass of champagne to salute the two of them. “Our happy couple gave me full permission to tell the story of what happened the night Geralt and Jaskier met. Like Jaskier himself, the story is partially an embarrassing tale of bad decisions, half-cocked plans, and a lot of heart.”

Jaskier grinned, and nudged his shoulder into Geralt’s.

“And,” Essi continued with glee, “dicks in every definition.”

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcherauseptember #the witcher #fanfiction: drabble #fake relationship

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the-young-and-forgotten · 4 years ago

Text

A Glimpse Through The Years ~ Third Year

| Masterlist |

September 1st 1993 - Third Year

Your father shook out his notebook as you pulled your suitcase down the staircase, struggling. “Daaaad” you complained “HELP. PLEASE.” You head snapped towards him as he gasped, completely ignoring you. You drop the suitcase and walk towards him. “What could be more important than your daughter almost being crushed to death?” Your eyes fall on the front of the newspaper and your heart plummets. “Oh”

There was a picture of Sirius Black, grinning evilly, baring his teeth. Underneath was a caption reading “BLACK STILL AT LARGE”. Your dad notices the look on your face and puts the newspaper face down, standing up to go help with your suitcase. “Hogwarts will be well protected honey.” You roll your eyes “I know dad. I was shocked he could’ve gotten out of Azkaban.”

You could tell your dad was desperate to get off the subject as he tried to make a joke about how heavy your suitcase was. You laugh falsely, indulging him.

The drive to the station was quieter than it had ever been. Not that you minded much. It did give you time to think. How did Sirius Black break out? Why after 12 years did he pick now and What the hell does he want to do now that he’s out? All of these questions captivated your thoughts for the entire journey.

Your father beeped his horn to shake out of your thoughts “y/n, we’re here.” You lean over and give him a huge hug, promising him good grades and tons of Hogsmeade sweets. You collect your case from the trunk, running into Kings Cross Station. You wave to your dad for the last time running off to where the portal for Platform 9 & ¾ is located, a big grin on your face.

Another year at Hogwarts was starting. Sure, the school years so far have had its up and downs, but that's what you get for being in the same year as Harry Potter. You grab a spare trolley and quickly throw your belongings onto it, running full speed at the pillar between platforms 9 and 10.

You emerge onto platform 9 & ¾ a small smile gracing your face. You stand on your tiptoes, looking over the crowds of people and spotting Theo and Blaise talking with Draco. Your eyes light up as you push your trolley towards them. Over the summer break, you had been consistently conversing via letter with Blaise and Theo, making the three of you pretty close friends.

“Hey boys!” you say grinning. Theo gives you a hug as they both greet you. You look at Draco and smile sweetly at him “Hey Dray.” He blushes a little and moves to hug you as well. “Have you guys been doing okay?” Theo slung an arm around your shoulder “Yep! Mother was freaking out about big ol’ Black but I’m not fussed.” “I saw you with your mother Theo, you were scared shitless.” “Hush!” he said, placing a finger over your lips and glancing around. No one needs to know that!” Blaise laughs as the two of you start walking away, taking long steps to keep up with you. “Sounds like something he’d do..”

Draco runs to catch up, walking in silence beside you. Linking your arms through his, you shove Theo off, telling him to “Stop leeching off my trolley, I know what you’re doing Nott.” You and Draco walk ahead of your trolley (Theo somehow ended up pushing it), the bickering coming from Theo and Blaise acting like background music.

“What’s wrong Draco.” You say, breaking the silence between you two. He startled, blushing. “Oh! Nothing Y/n, I was just..” “Lost in your thoughts?” “Exactly.” “...” “You know you can tell me anything right?” “Yeah, I know.”

You take a deep breath, ready to interrogate him further. But before you could get a word out, he straightened up suddenly, standing on tiptoes to look over the heads of the crowd. “Hey look! I can see Crabbe and Goyle! I gotta go! See ya!” He runs off with his trunk, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Confused by his sudden disappearance you stand on tiptoes, searching for his friends as well. But you see nothing save a sea of new first years. Frowning, you walk back and join in on Blaise and Theos squabble, walking onto the train.

You fling open the door of your dorm, slumping down onto your bad, extremely tired. The train started to have malfunctions that turned out to be dementors that started feeding on your energy, making you weak with tiredness. Then, as per year, Dumbledore's speech had dragged on a little too long, making you almost fall asleep in your food.

And now you were back in your dorm, dead tired. Eyes heavy and brain-fried, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The first week back, as always, was a pain. Long lectures, mountains of books and homework and one too many headaches. Now, because of the escape of Sirius Black, the school was even more on edge. Students talked in low voices about the dementors, pointing out to the black, barely visible creatures standing at the edge of the borders to their friends. Gryffindors kept freaking out the First years, laughing as they jumped with fright. Teachers scolded students more harshly than before, glancing nervously at the dementors. Hogwarts had become cold, filled with fear. Cold but not boring. You ran down the hallway with Theo and Blaise running for the Divination classroom, drastically late. You burst through the trapdoor just as Professor Trelawney was explaining the significance of cups. Sneaking along the back of the room, the three of you slumped down at Dracos desk as he raised an eyebrow. “Long story” Theo said “Don’t bother asking,” Blaise added. “We exploded part of the potions cupboard.” you blurt out. Theo and Blaise sigh, giving you looks. You shrug at them as Draco holds in his laughter “How did you manage that?” “Theo doesn’t know how to use his damn wand” you glare at the boy in question, who turns red and shakes his finger at you.

Professor Trelawnley suddenly approaches your table and picks up your cup, peering closely at it, her eyebrow rising. All conversation halts as you shift uncomfortably, wondering what she is seeing. “Ahh dear, you have a somewhat tragic future ahead of you.” She turns the cup and hums a little. “In the close future you are going to lose someone close to you, this will warrant discourse in your life, but be careful of cutting them out completely because you never know what they decide.” With that, she put down the cup and left your table bustling to the front of the room. You looked back at your friends disbelief and confusion written all over their faces.

You jumped down from the divination classroom, the last one to exit. “What's next?” You ask Blaise as he pulls out the timetable “We all have DADA together… that should be interesting.”

Draco pushes open the door of the classroom and you all file in. The desks were all pushed to the back of the room, leaving a big empty space with a sole cupboard in the middle of it as a scarred middle aged man leant against the side of it, reading a book.

He looked up at the sound of the door closing and snapped shut his book “Ah, the last stragglers! Right, let's get down to business.” He gestured for the class to stand in front of him as he moved to the front of the cupboard. “I'm Professor Lupin and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year. We’ll be learning all about the creatures in the magical world and today we are learning about the boggart! Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart is?”

As the class was entertained by the explanation of boggarts, you felt someone poking your shoulder. You follow the hand to its face and glance at Theo who wordlessly gestures to Draco.

Draco had a blank look on his face and seemed to be shaking? You share a concerned look with Theo and go to ask Draco what's wrong before Lupin tells the class to line up in front of the cupboard, separating you from him. Oh well, you can just ask him later.

You were halfway through the line watching as Ron defeated his fear. While everyone cheered for him, you watched from the corner of your eye as Draco walked up to the Professor and said something to him. Lupin nodded and Draco headed out of the room. You, Blaise and Theo all look at each other with concern before continuing on with the lesson. After watching Blaise beat the banshee and Theo defeat a severed head, it was finally your turn.

You nervously step towards the cupboard and hold up your wand defensively, ready for what the boggart was going to create. Slowly, a figure steps out. Quick as a flash, you point your wand at it, and scream “RIDDIKULUS!” at the top of your lungs before anyone could see what your worst fear was. The boggart starts spasming as Lupin steps in front of you, putting the boggart back into the cupboard.

He dismisses the class not before he scrutinises you for a second. You ignore this and run out of the class, barely having time to grab your bag in the hopes of finding Draco.

You ran through the corridors, but he was nowhere in sight.

One day, in DADA class, Snape took the lesson for Lupin. Your teachers mysterious illness was a monthly occurrence, something you were keen to know about. You sat there pondering on it as Snape argued with the Gryffindors. What could be so serious that he had to stay off for at least a couple of days? You snap back to reality at the mention of your books. You pull it out and puzzle over the chapter he had assigned you to read. Werewolves? You weren’t supposed to cover this yet…

You shrug and start to read through it, engrossed in the knowledge it was feeding you. The signs and facts of spotting a werewolf were vaguely familiar to you though you couldn’t think of why. You glanced up briefly seeing Snape gaze at the class with a smirk, who looked like he was plotting something. Now that you thought about it, why did he pick this chapter? He knows they weren’t up to it, what could be his real intentions? At that moment, Snape looks at you and you shift your gaze back to your book pretending to read even though you had already finished.

The lesson slowly crawls by and he finally dismisses you, everyone running for the door. You stepped over the threshold, still thinking about that chapter and how familiar it seemed. Your eyes widened as realisation struck you in the face and everything clicked. No wonder it was so familiar to you. Professor Lupin… was a werewolf.

Days later, the match arrived. Hufflepuff against Gryffindors. You hurried along the corridor, disastrously late for the game. You glance out the window, noticing the horrible weather ‘Ugh, glad I'm not on the quidditch team.’ you think, picking up the pace.

Your breath starts hitching, as your mind reels on the thought of the game. ‘All negative thoughts...’ you realise, eyes widening. ‘Oh no…’ you run to the window, grabbing onto the railing and gasping at the scene ahead of you.

You shivered as you watched several dementors move towards the quidditch pitch, frozen in shock. You shake yourself to snap out of it, taking a few steps back. “I gotta warn someone…” you mumble, thoughts wild “I gotta- DUMBLEDORE!” You take off down the corridor, running as fast as you could to the quidditch field.

You push through the teachers, tugging on Dumbledore’s sleeve. “De-dementors” You puff out, struggling to speak. He looks at you with a hard gaze before standing up and hurrying down to the court. You go to follow him, not knowing what else to do.

You feel a hand tug on your sleeve and turn to see Hagrid pulling you back, shaking his head slightly. You sink down onto the bench beside him, trying to calm down from the adrenaline still coursing through your body. “Dumbledore’ll take care o’ it, don't you worry” You jump at his voice, but nod along what he said. “I know… I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” He looks down at you, smiling broadly “Dumbledore let a student be hurt? I wouldn’t spare it a second thought”

Several agonizing minutes go by before you hear any news. Without any insight as to what had happened, the school was sent back to the dorms. You could hear students all around you grumbling.

Amidst the voices you heard your name being called. Shoving through the crowd was Theo and Blaise “Finally! We were looking for you everywhere! What happened? Do ya know what's going on?” Theo pressured you.

“The dementors got into the school” you told them bluntly “probably lured in by the emotions coming from the stadium” They stare at you in shock, waiting for you to say you were joking. When none was forthcoming, they screamed “WHAT” together, busting the eardrums of everyone in a 20 meter radius.

As you walked back, you filled them in on what had happened to you during the game, making them stiff with shock and hardly believing it.

“So you saw a dementor up close?” Theo asked. You were back in the common room and playing a game of chess. You moved your pawn before nodding. He leant over the game and shocked you with his closeness “WHAT WAS IT LIKE?!”

You push him away, glaring “It wasn’t fun at all Theo” He sits back sighing “I know, sorry”

You stare off into space again before responding. “I looked out the window and felt like a shell. I couldn’t feel anything. Completely numb.” You curl in on yourself, replaying the scene in your head. You felt a hand place itself on your shoulder as a distinctive voice asked what was happening.

Looking up, you see Dracos concerned face. A smile stretches across your face at the sight of him. You hadn’t seen him in so long. He notices you staring at him and gives you a weak grin. You shuffle over and pat the spot you just created. He shakes his head and remains standing. “Uhh actually I was hoping we could take a walk?” You get up and follow him out of the common room, trying to ignore Blaise and Theo’s unsubtle sniggering.

“Whats up, Dray?” you say as soon as you step out. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t been hanging out much lately..” the two of you walk in silence for a bit before he mumbles something you barely catch. You look at him curiously as his face becomes flustered under your gaze. He pretended to muss up his hair trying to hide his red face. “I missed you” he says, still mumbling “Like, a lot.” You smile at him and link your arms through his “I’ve missed you terribly as well you know?”

He trips over his shoelaces and laughs it off nervously eyes darting to you as you laugh with him. He clears his throat, and opens his mouth to say something. “Sorry I haven’t been around around lately-” You clap a hand over his mouth to shush him. He looks at you in surprise, noting your determined stance. “I have no care for your reasons as to why you stopped hanging out with me. Just long as you keep our old promise okay?” Draco nods and you remove your hand from his mouth.

He stares at you for a little too long for it to be accidental before turning away and jogging slightly ahead. You run after him, laughing as you catch up.

He watches you laugh as the sunlight from the windows you were passing reflect on your face, making you look angelic. He smiles and blushes again and re-links your arms. He pulls you along and starts talking aimlessly with you about anything and everything, wasting away the hours.

The next few weeks were perfect for you. It was nearly the end of this school year.

Even though the idolized “golden trio” were being as obnoxious as ever, Draco had started hanging out with you as well which made you forget about their behaviour.

The golden trio just kept getting more suspicious. From subtle glances and hushed whispers has your curiosity piqued. You could see it was affecting Draco too, but neither of you made a move on that.

A few days go by and you watch as Professor Lupin leaves the school, his secret now out. You were sad to see him go as he had easily been the best teacher you could ask for. As you waved him off, you saw Draco smirk out of the corner of your eye and you frown wondering if he was somehow connected to all of this. Days go by and Dracos snobby side comes out momentarily, shouting about how glad he was that Lupin was gone. You keep your distance, not wanting to be caught up in the strings of hate he was causing.

Finally it was the last day, the Great Feast was just in a few hours. You race down the staircase, still disappointed from the last match. You knew it was likely Gryffindor would win, but maybe, just maybe, Slytherin could snag it this year, you were, after all, in the lead right now.

But alas, that was not what fate had set out for you. You and Draco watched in disgust as the Gryffinddors celebrated and the room was clad in red and gold. They mussed up Potter's hair and almost broke his glasses. “Why are they winning again?” Draco asked “Because Potter fell off his broom and they all took pity” you snap back. Blaise rolls his eyes at your petty disgust “Pretty sure its ‘cause they won the damn Quidditch Cup” “Shut up Blaise” You and Draco chorus.

You sigh and pick some confetti off your plate, sitting down. “Well, I call it favouritism.” The Slytherins within earshot nod at your words, all silently cursing the Gryffindors. Minutes go by and you eat your food in silence before you speak up, glancing at Draco. “That petition is really starting to look tempting eh?” “You sure are right Y/n”

Waking up the next morning to Pansy’s obnoxious laughter was a pain, you rolled off your bed and lumbered around, gathering the stuff you had prepared last night. You stumble down to the Great Hall where Theo, Blaise and Draco were waiting for you. They laughed at your tired state, teasing you all the way to the train.

You slept for most of the ride, catching snippets of conversations that didn’t interest you at all.

Hours later, you were woken up by Draco gently shaking you, holding out your bag for you to take, you smile at him and grab it, racing off the train.

One foot off the train and you feel a pair of cold stares coming from across the platform. Looking up, you stare directly into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy who looked at you with disgust.

Rolling your eyes you turn to Draco, whose face had turned grave. “Well I guess this is goodbye Dray…” you say reluctantly “Yeah…” The two of you stand there awkwardly for a bit before you drop your bags and throw your arms around him, drawing him in close. You feel his face turn red and you chuckle softly. “I’m gonna miss you” He was quiet for a moment before responding “Not as much as I will” He lets go of you and keeps his face hidden as he walks off to his parents.

You feel Blaise and Theo creep up behind you, staring at his retreating figure. “You reckon he’s gonna be okay?” Theo asked “Yep. The Draco I know is stronger than you can guess.”

Blaise smiles at you and gives you a quick hug, signalling to his parents he was coming. “Well, I will take your word for it Y/n. You know him best” You hug him back before he runs off.

Theo looks at you for a second before scooping you up into a bear hug, laughing “Write me?” he says, letting you go. “As if I won’t” You retort, winking. He grins wildly, as he passes and salutes you. “Well i'm off! Take care Y/n!” You salute back shouting after him “see ya, you big oaf!”

Theo’s laughter rings in your ears as you run towards the pillar, knowing that the muggle world is waiting for you, just beyond the wall.

taglist: @just-a-belgian-girl @kashishwrites @hahee154hq @astoria-malfcy @naviation-xx @abitofeverythinggg

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#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #a glimpse through the years #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine

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softer-ua · 4 years ago

Note

in regards to what you pointed out a few posts ago, ngl one of my least favorite fandom things is when they make Kaminari the Har Har Stupid Joking ADHD Bi Playboy Who Is Never Serious Trope. like, he's very smart, 'worst in ___ area of a UA course' is very impressive and I don't remember if it even said that or just that he was studying with some other students, worried about his grades overall, calls himself stupid with implied insecurities about it, and didn't think he was very smart compared to the other people in the course. quirk overuse makes him loopy, incoherent, and think everything's funny. and yeah, he's a bit of a flirt and made a few perverted comments and actions that he clearly didn't think through that well. I'm pretty sure he's not ever stated to be bi in the manga because it was written by a coward, so I think people should think more about why they're associating and pairing together the idea of "hot flirty playboy who if legally able would sleep with everyone he meets" with emphasis or joke in the captions of whatever the content is on him being bi. I don't think this is inherently bad, even put together, but the execution feels kind of :/ and shallow. and I mainly just wish they'd pause to consider if there's any reason (subconscious or intentional) why one of those makes them think about the other, and at the very least lean back to see if they're blatantly making those traits centric around each other and tweak how they're showing them a little. Part of this is also because it's basically his fanon sexuality, but then they stick together "oh he's bi and everyone thinks that" and "he's made flirty or perverted comments and actions in canon at some point" and then mentally exaggerate and have this Canon Image of him as *waves hand at above* and I don't think that's happening consciously in most cases but. again. Cookiecutter Bi Party Playboy Who's Made a Date Offer to Everyone In The Building. not a flirty Person or a Playboy who is bi and flirts with more than one genders

I myself headcanon him as adhd and while the exact sexuality depends on my mood I think of/have him as bi in a lot of my content, but it's the same thing with why non adhd people see how he acts and label "adhd!" Especially about comprehension speed and derpy acting and intelligence and attention span jokes/tropes. Again, not bad in and of itself, but the specific parts of his behavior that make them think he's adhd, or that they start making jokes about or Ha Ha ADHD'ing, or that they think is why we project ADHD on him, (which they aren't necessarily wrong about, but like right in a really disrespectful look at how funny this is oh look squirrel way that's only funny when adhd people are doing it and it isn't all mocking like that) when they see other people calling him adhd, are the wrong ones, I think, and it shows in their characterization of him.

I'm not saying that any of those traits are bad in a character, but as a queer adhd girl with very high annual test scores and Gifted Kid Intelligence but extremely poor grades, focus, and brain damage (admittedly nothing like his, it was a longterm passive thing that mainly just made me have a Lot of Really Bad headaches, and closest thing it did to me was make me sluggish and emotional on bad days and also techincally have the potential kill my language bit if left untreated or the surgery messed up, which it didn't, and it won't be a problem again. but even after explaining that it wasn't cancer or any sort of tumor, and after seeing it do very little at all to affect my behavior outside of irritability and performance, because y'know, constant migraines, gone after the surgery but this was before that, Certain People I Was Vaguely Kind Of Acquaintances With started to treat my like I was a fragile glass thing going to to drop dead and revive myself speaking like a comic relief cartoon crazy person at any moment which was. patronizing.) I've since had surgery for, the way the fandom combines them into stereotypes and portrays them really just rubs me the wrong way- "Flirty Bi(tm) Playboy" "Har Har ADHD Can't Focus Or Get Things After They're Explained To Him, He's Still Confused And An Idiot" "Stupid Person With Brain Damage Who Can't Take Care Of Or Think For Themself And Acts Stupid And Funny For People To Laugh At" which tbh is super ableist even and especially when people irl do fit that description, and also reminds me of the Autistic Person Freaking Out And Being Dramatic sense of humor. And I know it's not helped by canon, because it done for comic relief and to limit his powers, but explored more I think it as a limitation could have been used way more interestingly than canon did and also call me biased but that quirk induced brain frying sounds at least as concerning as Izuku's quirk's backlash.

And it's a shame!! Because he's so much more interesting than that! Instead, the fandom gives me the Cookicutter Funny Bi ADHD Flirt Who's An Idiot and I am sad about it.

tbh it reminds me of what happened to percy jackson, esp with the ADHD Idiot Trope thing. which sucks because apparently it originated in the author making up stories around characters like his adhd and dyslexic kid inspired by Greek myths to tell him after running out of actual myths because it was his special interest and he wanted more. and then the series got kind of all over the place and the fandom processed that the adhd and dyslexic main character who does dumb things sometimes but is very combat smart and great at strategizing and leading gets bad grades and has trouble focusing and has, y'know, adhd, and made him the ADHD Idiot and erased his Gifted Kid girl friend's traits and ADHD and dyslexia into No Nonsense Calls Him an Idiot And Thinks He's Stupid And Has To Tell Him What To Do And Manage His Life For Him and honestly that just kind of sucks and it reminds me of what happened to fandom Kaminari. and now that I think of it people have jirou like that around him a lot too.

im fine with you answering this publicly if you want or have something to add but probably tag as ableism and maybe a biphobia mention content warning for people who don't have the energy to deal with thinking about those kinds of negative things rn because I kind of Went Off About It

I love this! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences 💚(and double thank you for tag suggestions)💚

I couldn’t agree more that a lot of fandom has messed up Kami’s character, which is why I’ve kinda been posting more about him cause he’s just stuck in my head.

I think a lot of fandoms have trouble with characters like this, people have a hard time with duality in characters and fast/fun posts are easier to make if you flatten a character down.

The did it to Kami, they did it to Percy, they did it to Ron Weasley, they do it to Thor, the list goes on. If being the Smart One ™️ isn’t your thing and you can be goofy than you get pigeonholed into the idiot trope.

I feel for Kami a lot(probably because I have adhd/brain damage too)

It sucks when you’re smart but it’s not the traditional, measurable kind of smart(even if by national comparison Kami technically is).

I got terrible grades growing up, and I pretty much got the absolute lowest gpa you can get and still graduate. But absolutely no one would have known if I didn’t tell them, because I’m not dumb.

(It’s okay if you are “dumb”, I love me a head empty just vibes friend. You’re 100% valid, stil worthy of joining discussions, and should be listened to and taken seriously. This just isn’t about that tho)

I joke sometimes that I’m clever and witty but not smart, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

I have lots of thoughts and ideas that I think I articulate pretty well, I am excellent at finding the humor in things and expressing it in a way that’s funny to others too, and there is almost zero problems I can’t find a work around. And the people in my life love it, and they love to use it.

But eventually everyone in my life finds out that I’m not smart. They see the way I have to pause to Google how to calculate a tip, that I don’t know the name of all 50 states or even where to find them on a map, or I legitimately just can not spell (if you ever see a post where it looks like I used a weird word choice it’s probably because I tried 4 times and autocorrect+Google couldn’t help me and voice to text wasn’t an option)

No one ever questions my intelligence until they find out about my adhd and/or catch me struggling with it. After the mask comes off it’s like they can’t even hear me anymore, nothing I say could be true or matter because I’m now just the goofy accident prone spacy girl. My family literally calls me Spacy

And ya know what sometimes I just let people think that because it’s easier, it’s easier than explaining that I’m dyslexic and that I didn’t have a single geography/history clas until 10th grade and shocker the capital of Iowa doesn’t come up much by then. And it’s easier for me to laugh off losing my keys again than dwell on the fact that sometimes it feels like I’m losing my marbles.

And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if after this post I get a lot more “fact checkers” and push back on anything else I post.(not talking about people who want to genuinely engage,y’all are always welcome, I’m talking those people who don’t wanna look it up themselves but no longer trust me to know what I’m talking about)

Kami is a sweet brilliant boy. He’s in a nationally high ranking school, he loves the weather channel, he’s careful about his quirk that could easily hurt his friends in combat, he has a very high emotional intelligence level, he wears dorky shirts with electricity puns on them, and he pays attention to his friends and remembers a lot of little things about them.

He wants to be a hero and he takes that seriously, and the series has tried time and time again to tell y’all that smiling and laughter are an important part of that. Kami excels at this part! So what if his history grades don’t rival the top of the class, the top 5 students would struggle hard to do what Kami does.

Iida can’t relax, Momos rather shy, Todo struggles with social cues, Midoriya is canonically not funny, and jfc where to even begin with Katsuki. I’m certain they’ll all grow up to be excellent heros in their own right, but none of them are going to bring the level of joy and camaraderie that Denki can. You can’t test that into someone.

Kami also just notices people differently and has any easy way of joining in with them, he doesn’t struggle approaching Katsuki or Shinso. Sure he doesn’t hit the the nail on the head the same way Deku does but he’s the only one who has the guts and skills to try. Also he’s not that kinda friend, he’s not looking to a save these guys but pal around with them

I think Kami 100% realizes what a special case and tough nut to crack Bakugo is, I don’t think he’s just careless or too dumb realize his life’s at stake or whatever.

I think he’s purposely testing Bakugos boundaries all while trying to not be a threat to Katsukis actual ego and calling Bakugo out when he needs it in a way that not to serious. Kami knows how to be just goofy enough that he’s approachable. He’s also keyed in that the way to Bakugo is through Deku, meanwhile everyone else is stuck believing the opposite.

Kami also realized how important music is to Jiro and saw an opportunity to let her display her skills and combin the two worlds she lives, and he wasn’t afraid to get some back lash from her for it.

Like Deku Kami isn’t afraid to be uncomfortable. You really can’t teach that level of social ease, you can teach the posture and feed people a couple of lines but it’ll never hit the same. Funny approachable people have spent a lifetime learning the craft, usually out of necessity.

It’s actually what gives me the biggest adhd vibes from him, because adhd is (speculated to be) a dopamine deficiency disorder. People with adhd are constantly trying to raise their dopamine levels, and that means looking for praise and reward and nothing makes the human brain light up faster than postative human connections.

Adhd children struggle a lot with connecting with peers and often find making people laugh a fast way into people’s circles and makes it more likely people will overlook being interrupted or spaced out on.

Also adhd people are pretty much forced by their own brain structures to be genuine in all they do, low dopamine levels make it very hard to do things you don’t enjoy because there no promise of dopamine from the activity and you don’t have enough to spare, plus impulsiveness makes it really hard to not show when you do or don’t enjoy something.

I agree that Kami is also painted as overly perverted at times, he’s a little flirty but in a fun casual way but it’s not the foundation of his personality and it’s really mellowed out over the course of the series.

And while I subscribe to the bi hc from his interactions with Jiro and Shinso, we should all be very mindful that we don’t lump these characteristics together. The are separate facets of his personality that are not dependent on each other in anyway.

Kami deserves all the respect and love, I can’t wait to see our electric king again 🖤⚡️🖤

#tw ableism #ableism #tw biphobia #biphobia #softy answers #I have a sorta sad one shot about Kami and his quirks effects #should i post it?

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robron1609 · 4 years ago

Text

Robron Week 2021 - Day 1

Meet-Ugly + "That's not an explanation."

New Beginnings

(ao3 link)

Aaron’s eyelids fluttered like a candle in the wind, the hustle and bustle of the city pecking away at his head with a sledgehammer. The bitter taste of ale, the fruity taste of wine and all the combined spices of every spirit known to man were stagnant on his tongue as he peeled his damp limbs off the leather sofa beneath him.

He let out a dry cough and it felt like someone had shot him in the brain during his sleep. But other than that, he was as right as rain.

It took him longer than he would care to admit to remember that he did, in fact, not own a single item of furniture that had even an inch of leather on it, and he lived in the in the middle of bloody nowhere where the only thing (apart from his mother) that made him shake a leg in the morning was the bellows of Moira’s cows when their troughs were being topped up.

So, there’s that.

His brain caught up and he bolted upright, his whole face moulding into a sculpture of what, where, when, how and why. He took in his brand-spanking-new surroundings; a lavish penthouse overlooking London’s skyline, decked out from head to toe in a fusion of ultra modern and industrial pieces. Not really his style, to put it nicely. It looked like something straight off the front page of one of those overpriced interior design magazines on the top shelf of David’s shop that no one ever bought.

Aaron could only hope that whoever lived here was some bloke he’d pulled in the haze of last night, if it wasn’t then… what the actual fuck was he doing here?

When the room had stopped spinning on all its axis and Aaron was eighty-nine percent sure that he would be able to hold his vomit in if necessary, he braved the hallways in search of other life. He detoured to stand in front of a back-lit mirror that had beckoned him over, and he was introduced to his reflection. It gawked right back at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of neon yellow boxers and a Scottish flag that he was wearing as a cape. The flag was fastened loosely around his neck with a frayed shoelace and there was a big tear down the centre of it.

Jesus fucking shit. Absurd didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sweat dripped down his top lip when he heard a deep voice through the wall. He teetered around the corner until he was close enough to pick up most of the words.

“I won’t be in today.” There was a pause. “Does it fucking matter?” Nice manners, then. “Look, unless you want me hurling all over the new contact, I suggest you grow a pair and attend the meeting without me.”

Aaron gripped the glossed door frame, his clammy hands squeaking on the wood as he snuck a look at who the voice was coming from. The man was stunning. He was all sun-kissed skin, choppy blond hair, and a gorgeous mouth that dipped dramatically in the corner.

“Shit!” With a jolt, the blond dropped his phone and it landed on his face with a mocking smack.

“Sorry-”

“Why are you in my house?!”

“I’m Aaron.” No shit, Aaron.

“That’s not an explanation!”

“Sorry.”

Aaron cringed. All of a sudden he was big on apologies, apparently. Blondie was now sitting up, scratching the fluff on the nape of his neck as he shuffled out of bed and adjusted his duvet accordingly whenever it slipped below his waistline. He just glared at Aaron, waiting to hear something that made sense.

“I was kinda hoping you could tell me,” Aaron said, using all of his self-control to stop his eyes from drifting downwards. “My head’s mashed. I remember being on the train with Adam and Vic, and then-”

“Vic as in my sister Vic?”

Aaron just stood there, catching flies. “I- I dunno, I think so. Sugden?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ohhhh, Robert Sugden. Aaron finally put a name to the face and felt like giving himself a pat on the back.

…..

“Here you go. Extra strong.”

"Ta."

Aaron warmly accepted the cup of coffee, the steam flying off it and dissolving in his pores. He used the piping hot liquid to swamp down some paracetamol before tightening the strap on the dressing gown that Robert had lent him a little earlier with a side-eye and a grumbled, “Make sure you give it back.”

With the current cycle rumbling the machine into the ground, Aaron glanced at the digital timer displayed on the appliance. Just forty-eight minutes until he could grab his screwed up clothes, slap them on, and leg it to the underground with his tail between his legs. The longest forty-eight minutes of his life, no doubt.

Hoping to make a crack in the ice, Robert led Aaron to the scene of last night’s crime. Through the sliding doors, across the patio and up the spiral stairs, secluded in the corner and illuminated by the steady flicker of the firepit. Robert was surprised that it hadn’t burnt out in the early morning under the April showers.

The rooftop terrace was what sold this place for Robert. It was his haven, complete with everything that made his superficial heart weep. This morning, however, it looked how he felt.

He absorbed the aftershocks of his party (shards of glass littering the outdoor table, remains of finger foods welded to the deck, and a pair of nude stilettos abandoned on the bar) and sagged. Turning thirty was dismal enough without having to clean up after his colleagues. Or, as he liked to call them, a bunch of wound up, hoity-toity pen pushers who didn’t even know his middle name—just a sniff of free booze and they were squeezing into a Ralph Laurent polo that still had the label on, and patting him on back with a bout of boisterous laughter as if they were best mates.

Wow, he was in dire need of some proper friends.

Aaron propped himself up on the bar. “Bet you don’t get tired of this,” he said, looking out at the sparkling city.

“It’s a great hangover cure,” Robert said, nursing his Americano and watching the ripples dance over the surface as he lightly blew it. “It can be lonely, though,” he admitted, unsure as to why. This handsome and hungover stranger was just waiting for his ticket out of here, he didn’t want or need to become Robert’s agony uncle to fill the time, that was for sure.

“Why’s that?”

Oh. Perhaps Aaron, for one reason or another, cared. Or he’s got nowhere else he needs to be and Robert’s left him with no choice but to sit and listen because it's the polite thing to do. Aaron looked at Robert all doe-eyed and Robert wanted to stay here until he’d told Aaron every single intricate detail of his life up until this point. But that seemed a little crass.

“Don’t know, really. I just… don’t like to be alone with my thoughts, I suppose. And being up here, well, it’s a whole lot of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Aaron said. “How long have you lived here?”

"Nearly two years on the whole." Robert calculated, Aaron giving him an amicable nod in response. Robert licked the coffee froth off his lips, clearing his throat. "I've lived in London a while, though. Since I left the village, pretty much."

"And you never thought about going back?"

"I couldn't." That would mean looking back. And after the trail of destruction he'd left in his wake, that was never going to happen. They were better off without him. Or at least his Dad and Andy were. Vic and Dianne never stopped reaching out, however, offering their support through texts and unanswered voicemails.

Aaron changed the topic, sensing that Robert's internal trip down memory lane wasn't a smooth ride. "You heard anything from Vic and Adam?"

"They were both flat out in the spare room last time I checked," Robert answered. He'd been less than pleased to find them entwined together on top of the duvet, dead to the world as Adam slobbered away on the satin pillowcase like an excited dog, and Vic let out a mishmash of unconscious sounds from sniffles to whistles, her makeup crusty and her outfit dishevelled by a night's sleep in it.

"Vic had a whole itinerary planned. Some museum, Leicester Square, and then this ridiculous hipster coffee shop near the station," Aaron said with a dreary eye roll. "Even though our train leaves just after two."

"She's just excited. She doesn't come here often."

"'Suppose not."

"Anyway, I recommended that coffee shop so you better not miss it," Robert said. Aaron snorted because of course he did. "Come on."

Robert rose, perking up a bit as he stretched his arms until they clicked with satisfaction. Aaron followed in his footsteps, literally, but they stopped in their tracks, coming face to face with a rumbled Victoria.

She looked dead and alive all at the same time as she swung her phone about. "There they are, the newly engaged couple."

Robert choked on air and Aaron gave him a splash of side-eye before snatching Vic’s phone. "What are you on about?" And Aaron had to check that the digital date displayed in the top left corner of the screen wasn't April the 1st. Nope, it was indeed the 23rd. And under that was a Facebook post on his profile; a blurry, backlit photo of him and Robert flashing the camera with two rings that didn’t even match, accompanied by a slurred caption.

yayy ENGAAAAAGED! whoop whoop!! hears to many many many many many year <3

Aaron groaned, throwing his head back in sheer embarrassment when Vic grabbed a hold of his and Robert’s left hands. Sure enough, the rings were still there. “Oh my God,” she cackled, her voice like a siren in the middle of the night. “This is brilliant. A few more of those cocktails and you’d be halfway to vegas, ey?”

Robert massaged his temples, kneading roughly at his dry skin. “Whatever’s in them is lethal,” he grumbled, peering over Aaron’s shoulder as he watched him scroll through the comments and squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief at each one.

“It’s your bar, mate. You should know what it’s serving,” Aaron said. He had a point. “Let’s just pray we left it at cheap rings.”

(Aaron couldn’t even begin to fathom at what point during the party he and Robert had fled the penthouse and ended up at a jewellers of all places. Who’d thought a proposal was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect night? Who’d taken that photo? And who in their right mind was selling giant fabric flags in the early hours of the morning? It would be a miracle if he becomes sober enough to answer at least one of those questions.)

Robert pouted. “That’s a shame. I’ll cancel the tickets to Vegas, then,” he teased.

“I dunno, I could do with a holiday just to get over the shame.” Robert grinned at the younger man’s flirty tone.

“Cheers,” Robert scoffed. Aaron handed the phone back to Vic who watched the pair with a knowing glint in her eye, her head bouncing back and forth between them.

“Only joking,” Aaron said. “Could be worse.”

Vic pocketed her mobile with a yawn and tightened her ponytail. “Right, I’m gonna drag my lump of a boyfriend out of bed and start gathering our stuff. I’ll leave you two to plan the wedding of the century, shall I?”

Vic left the rooftop, her flats scuffing all the way down the metal staircase. Robert gulped down the remains of his coffee and turned to Aaron with a smirk.

“So, fiancé,”–Aaron shot Robert a fiery glare which, if Robert didn’t know any better, would leave a bruise on his ego–“I know a great place where we can get some brunch. Why don’t we ditch Vic and Adam and I’ll drop you off at King’s Cross after.”

Aaron pulled a face. “ Brunch? I’m not paying £8.99 for a plain scone.”

“My treat.” Robert offered, hoping that would seal the deal.

“Like a date?”

“If you want it to be.” Aaron paused for a beat, not that there was ever much to contemplate.

“Fine.” Robert didn’t miss the bashful smile taking over Aaron’s face. Robert bit the inside of his cheek when Aaron began to descend the stairs. He crammed his hands in his pockets, his heart going into overdrive as he kicked his feet into gear.

#robron week #rw2021 #robron fic

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