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dirtysvthoughts · 2 years ago

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𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER THREE

pairing: prospective club owner! joshua x stripper! reader

word count: 2.2k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, worldbuilding before the dirty stuff (be patient 😉), female! reader, mildly cocky! shua, dom! shua, power play/brat! reader, full nudity for reader, use of pet names (love, baby, sweetheart), shua tries to get reader to fall for him but to no avail (or yes avail?)

playlist songs: special affair - the internet, give me head - sweet the kid, na na - trey songz

notes: chapter 3 baybeeeee! sorry this took so long, but it’s finally here! i’m gonna start working on chapter 4 and that should be done vv soon! hope you enjoy besties!

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba

“and i’m telling you, i don’t need any help, take your service elsewhere,” your boss, mia, says over the phone, curtly hanging it up afterwards. “fucking nuisance,” she mumbles under her breath as you enter her office.

“somethin’ happen?” you say as you shut the door behind you, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“shouldn’t you be getting ready, sage?” mia says not even looking in your direction, fiddling with whatever paperwork is in front of her.

you roll your eyes, “it’s 5 PM, i only came here early to practice my new routine. plus, i needed to ask you something, but then i overheard you. you know i’m one of the few people you actually trust here. so seriously, what was that all about?”

she stops messing with the papers and finally directs her eyes towards you, breathing a heavy sigh. “okay, so you know the club has a few more debt payments before i can solely own this place right? well, this man i was on the phone with can more than likely wipe away the rest of the debt with a snap of a finger.”

“so if he can do that, why would you tell him to fuck off? i don’t get it.”

“because he wants to own majority of the business! all of the creative decisions, finances, even down to the dancers’ employment would be his decision. i’m not doing that! i’ve worked way too hard to get to where illusion is today. and do you know how many strip club owners are women? not a whole lot. this is my pride.”

you both sit in a minute of silence, her words repeating in your mind. she was right, so much went into this club and those who weren’t on the pole proved that a club could run without a man’s help or approval. and you knew your boss wasn’t desperate enough to give in just yet.

“well no one but you is gonna run club illusion. fuck another owner or a co-owner,” you firmly say as mia shakes her head and smiles, now directing her attention at her desktop, moving her mouse around.

“why do i like you so much, sage?”

“i dunno, i guess i have that effect on people,” you smile as you push your hair back, opening the door so you could start getting ready.

“by the way,” you say with one foot out the door, “what was the guy’s name?”

“somethin’ hong, i kept forgetting the name, why? does it ring a bell?”

“nah, just wanna have a name in mind just in case he shows up, you know they like doing that.”

“well let’s hope not,” she groans as she stretches her arms out. “i really don’t need the extra stress - i can already tell tonight’s gonna be extra for no reason.”

and crazy enough, your boss was right. security had to break up two fights, one of the dancers ended up getting sent home (she was overly drunk), and a bartender ended up quitting - all in the span of four hours.

you look at the clock on the wall, readjusting your bodysuit straps and making sure your makeup was still intact. it was finally midnight, which hopefully meant the rest of the night would be better until it was time for the club to close.

“crazy ass night huh?” your closest friend and fellow dancer, hana (also known as chardonnay) approaches you. she finds her makeup kit and grabs a brush, dolling up her face.

“who are you tellin? and it’s only thursday! if heads into the weekend,” you say but hana finishes your thoughts.

“oh hello no, do not manifest that energy. this weekend can be busy, but not crazy,” she puts her kit back in her corner and checks herself out.

min then walks into the dressing room, hastily scanning the area for one person. “hana!” she calls out, slightly panicking. “you have a whole party waiting for you and you’re talking in the dressing room?”

“i know min, i just had to make sure i was ready, sheesh,” hana rolls her eyes. “gimme five and i’ll be out. they can wait.”

“you better hurry up,” min says walking away, “mia already has had to deal with a lot of shit and i’m pretty sure the last thing she wants to deal with is y’all acting out.” she closes the door behind her and the music becomes muffled again.

“lemme head out there before even more hell gets raised,” hana sighs as she switches her clear heels for her champagne-colored ones. “i guess i’ll see you out there in a bit.” she and a few others leave the room, leaving the space nearly empty.

——

after checking yourself out, you finally head back on to the scene, deciding to walk around and look for clientele since you already performed on the main stage for tonight.

as you get deeper into the center, you notice a figure at one of the small, standing tables. intrigued, you walked closer and your body can’t deny it’s reaction when you see how handsome he is. his dress white shirt had a few buttons opened, his black hair styled to where not all of it was in his face, and his eyes? oh you felt like you could melt in them.

when you finally get close enough, you place your hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you, putting his glass of whiskey down. “hey there,” you smile flirty at him, and he responds by smiling back at you.

“hey beautiful,” he says in the most soft, yet incredibly sexy tone. “i haven’t seen you around before, are you new here?”

“oh, so you’ve been here before,” you say going to the opposite side of the table, your eyes not leaving is. “that’s interesting, considering i’ve never seen you, i practically have a sixth sense when it comes to this place.”

“mmm, different days, different times, maybe,” he picks up his glass and takes a sip and when he puts it down, you reach for his hand and take hold of it.

“well that can’t stop us from getting to know each other better,” you rub his hands softly. “what’s your name?”

“hong. joshua hong, to be more specific,” he says. “and yours?”

you try to keep a poker face, but you fail drastically as your expression changes. “hong?” you think to yourself. “hong.. why does it sound so familiar?”

you mind then recalls the conversation with mia, and you slowly remove your hand from his. “w-wait a minute, hong? are you a club owner or something?”

“actually i am, how did-” you interrupt him by scoffing and shaking your head, not believing what could’ve happened.

“no fucking way.. you’re the man that called my boss earlier today weren’t you? about wanting to own this place?”

“yeah, that was me,” he says with all the pride he can muster and it made you a little annoyed. “this place has so much potential, and it’s becoming one of the most popular clubs in the area. with my help, it can reach that and more! everyone would benefit.”

“look, hong - whoever you are, this club is doing fine. mia didn’t need a savior before and she doesn’t need one now, especially from some cocky motherfucker who he thinks he can change everything just by walking into the room.” you walk away ready to find another customer, but he comes in front of and stops you.

“you’re bold as hell.. i love that in a partner,” joshus says grinning as he begins to kiss the side of your neck teasingly, his lips feeling like a soft pillow. your body and your mind are now drastically confused. yes, he was trying to take over the club and you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t deny your physical attraction to him either.

after a few more seconds, joshua pulls away and smirks at you, clearly enjoying the fact that you were starting to break down your walls. he takes something out of his pocket and slides it into your hand, and when you feel it - it’s a thick wad of cash.

“let’s go upstairs baby,” joshua says as he pulls you towards him, having you lead the way. watching your surroundings, you firmly grab his hand and you lead him to the vip rooms, walking up the steps and then finding the closest, empty room.

unable to hold back anymore (and away from any other eyes), you sharply pull him closer to you and smash your mouth against his, hands roaming his hair as he walks backwards. when he reaches the edge of the couch, joshua gently sits down and pulls you onto his lap, his hands now palming your ass. you lowly moan at the feeling as you begin to roll your hips into him, his touches becoming more firmer as he squeezes your cheeks.

“you couldn’t resist me, could you?” joshua laughs to himself. “just a second ago you were telling me off, and now you’re like putty in my hands.”

“fuck you,” you moan out when he starts playing with the crotch of your bodysuit, dragging two fingers over the cloth. he continues the motion until he can start to feel a familiar dampness.

“awww cute, you wanna fuck me,” he gloats, dragging his fingers into your bodysuit, playing with your inside lips. he continues the motion for a few moments and then you muster every good bone left in your body, to pry his fingers away from your now dripping core.

“fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this.. i really shouldn’t be doing this,” you say hesitantly.

“well why not? we’re already here aren’t we? no one has to know, baby. this’ll be our little secret, m’kay?”

and that was all you needed to hear. this was definitely something you’d be carrying with you to the grave.

“fine. one round and then that’s it-” you can’t even finish your sentence before joshua slams his lips once again on yours, this time with more vigor and fever.

——

for the millionth time tonight, your body and your mind are in two conflicting states. how could something this bad be so incredibly good?

“m-mmm, sh-shua,” you moan into his ear as he thrusts into you, your bodysuit completely off and his pants pooling down at his ankles. “you feel amazing,” you continue to feel him up, pressing down on his shoulders. joshua hisses at the feeling, guiding your hands down to his waist so you can see and feel what he was doing to you.

“that’s all you,” he smiles as you move a bit to match his pace, almost moaning with you at the new intensity you both set. “with me here, you could have this every night, hmmm, maybe even more than that to be real with you.”

he was really trying to get you over, but for your sake - it couldn’t happen.

“and with you here, you’d probably take out 20% of my pay,” you chuckle but it’s immediately cut off when joshua thrusts sharply into you, causing you to hunch over and moan, almost loud enough to where someone could hear you.

“i thought you needed to be quiet? you’re fucking the new potential owner, can’t have everyone finding out, right?”

“fuck, fuck, f-fuck,” you whisper, joshua not sure if that was from the sex or if you were still frustrated that your morals have gone out the window.

you feel a tightening in your core, and you knew any minute that you were about to come. as he continues to thrust into you, the coils in your become smaller and more detailed.

“joshua, shua, i- mmmm, i-!” you call out for him and moments later, you juices leak on him. you relax into his chest, regulating your breathing to a slower pace.

——

“this doesn’t mean anything you know,” your back facing him as he helps you fix the strings on your bodysuit. “i’ve already crossed some lines that i can’t return from.”

“i keep telling you sweetheart, no one has to know. you’re making it seem like you have to tell the whole world.”

several thoughts run through your mind, including ones of him railing you from behind in one of the secluded vip rooms. you try and push them out of your head when you finally speak.

“and if i did want to see you again, how would i go about that?” joshua then hands you a business card and pats your back, signifying that he was done.

“just gimme a call love.”

you both walk out the room, and he turns to face you again, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “see you soon, baby.” he walks away, leaving you dazed and in suspended motion. you almost don’t hear your name being called out.

“sage!” hana calls out to you and you walk over to her.

“who was that? he’s so fucking hot! how’d you bag him?”

you sigh as you lie through your teeth, “he’s no one special. just another customer.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #joshua smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua imagines #hong joshua imagines #hong jisoo imagines #joshua fanfic #hong joshua fanfic #dsvtt: kenny’s works #dsvtt: private dancer

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manonblaqkbeak · 1 year ago

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Scaling in the Moonlight

Hello everyone!!! Long time no see!!! It's been eleven months!!!!! since I last wrote anything. I hated the fact that I missed last years rowaelin month and was determined to write something for this years rowaelin month (and a special thank you to @goddess-aelin for her lovely note saying she missed my work <3)

And thanks to the lovely people that run rowaelin month!!! you are all amazing!!! @rowaelinscourt

Apologies in advance if my writing and grammar and characterisation is a little rusty, like I said, it's been eleven months since I last wrote anything and I'm slowly getting through my ToG re-read (which has really opened my eyes to how traumatised Aelin is as a person/character).

Words: 800+. CW: none, I don't think.

Day 18- Aelin and Rowan's hawk form.

It was two AM and Aelin was out, wondering the dark city streets of Orynth, looking for the right building.

Instead of using the castle's obstacle course like most sane people would, Aelin decided that she needed to do this the way she was trained too—by scaling the side of buildings, using every muscle in her body to pull herself up to reach the top of the building, to run across the rooftops to get closer to her target.

She needed the reminder that she could—and that she hadn't lost her edge.

Although, she was sure she had lost it. She did still train, from magic to weapons to hand-to-hand combat, she did whichever she was in the mood for with what free time she had, but as Queen and mother to five children, she had no need to scale buildings and jump from rooftop to rooftop.

So she had decided, as she ate her dinner with her family, she was going to relive her past life; if only for a couple of hours.

Aelin walked through one more street before she found a good starting point—a shoe store that she did frequent with Rowan and their children. It was two storeys tall and she knew that no one occupied the apartment above the shop so no one would see her.

Hopefully no one would hear her either.

Stretching before climbing, Aelin told herself that it would be fine. She had given birth to five children, all without pain relieving herbs, she could—would—scale this building with ease.

Finding her footing was easy enough, so Aelin started her trek—and thankfully didn't fall off, although she did slid time a few times and had to grit her teeth to stop her cursing from echoing around town.

The burning in her muscles took her back to how she used to be, how she used to be able to demand any contract and fat coin purse she desired.

She didn't miss that life, not at all, but it was part of who she was and she was not ashamed of it.

Taking one last gulping breath, Aelin hoisted herself over the roofs ledge and let the accomplishment rush through her.

So determined she was in proving herself that she could still do this, she hadn't been aware that she had a follower.

A follower that now clicked his beak at her.

Aelin's head snapped upwards, taking in her mate's large hawk-form as he perched on the chimney.

“You were asleep when I left,” was all Aelin could think of to say.

Rowan clicked his beak again, as if to say And now I'm awake.

“Clearly,” Aelin said, “how'd I go from your end?”

She waited for him to shift back but he didn't. He wasn't mad at her, she knew that much, but she didn't want anyone to see her talking to her mate like this—it felt too intimate to be like this in public, but after two decades together, Aelin could converse with Rowan in his hawk form as easily as she could talk to him in his Fae form.

Rowan didn't say anything but flew to the building next to her. He clicked his beak. You can climb well enough, let's see how you can jump.

Aelin moved to the ledge, looking down to the ground, if she didn't make it, she wouldn't die, but she'd probably be bruised all over.

She looked at Rowan, who was waiting patiently. “Will you nurse me back to health if I fall?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at her husband, who rolled his eyes.

“That better be a yes,” she said and moved back to take a running jump.

Gods, if she fell, she'd never get over the embarrassment.

Aelin ran and jumped—and just made it. She hit her chin hard enough that when she made it over the ledge of the building, she laid down and stared at the open night sky.

A flash of light brighter than the moon came and went, and then there was Rowan, taking her in.

“Fireheart,” he said, his voice deep and concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Aelin said, her chin sore but she would live. She eyed her mate up and down, however, and said, “But I would still appreciate being nursed back to health—especially if you take your shirt off.”

Rowan rolled his eyes again, but obliged her, his shirt coming off in one easy movement that had her contemplate making a sixth baby.

“Where does it hurt, milady?” her king-consort asked, his rough fingers moving across her collarbone.

“Here,” she said, pointing to her chin, and soon she was better, especially as she chased Rowan around in his hawk form, easily jumping from roof to roof as the hours went by.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #my work #rowaelin month 2023

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callsigncrash · 2 years ago

Note

Eey I got an idea

Yamori, Naki and ur homelander boyos with a gn or male s/o that's autistic and has a lot of cute, happy stims, like swaying from side to side, flapping their fists when bored, whistling like a bird, hopping a bit on their heels, swishing their leg from side to side or bouncing their leg and such

But s/o has too anxious stims that can be confused by the happy ones, like flapping their open hands with a rather neutral expression when being rlly anxious, tapping their foot real fast and having to switch which foot their tapping since they get tired fast and that makes them sway a bit from side to side, whistling a rlly specific melody over and over again when scared or anxious, trying to swishing their leg/foot a but too agressively and bouncing it way too fast to be comfy and maybe scratching their own hands and arms ¯\_(ツ)_/

Idk I just got my own stims and hope that's some good examples and you can work with it, I was just curious on how the boyos would react to a s/o like that and such

Anygays! Have a great cycle of 24 hours! ^^

Autistic S/O HCs

Another ask that makes me feel seen! I’m not entirely autistic but I am on the spectrum and so is my dad so hopefully I do this justice!

________________________________________________

Yamori

He had a feeling so he was already observing what you did, what you like, and what your boundaries are. This man literally has a list.

He’s a very patient man so he doesn’t get annoyed with you at all. He also just loves you so annoyance is off the table for him when it comes to you.

Respects your boundaries like crazy.

He goes out of his way to make sure that you’re not put in a position that could make you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable when you’re with him.

He strikes me as a guy who has days where he just prefers not to talk so if you get like that too, he already understands.

Feeds into whatever you hyperfixate on. He’s got money to throw around so go crazy.

He makes sure Naki understands your boundaries. He’s sweet but he’s a little too overexcited sometimes.

Likes to hear you babble on.

Gets on people for making you upset in any way. He doesn’t tolerate that.

His quiet and calm demeanor at home is a huge comfort and is seriously grounding.

Naki

He genuinely didn’t know until you told him.

He wants you to tell him if there’s anything that you need or if there’s anything he can do.

Your boundaries and needs are very important to him. Your comfort is his top priority!

Pays attention to your mood and surroundings just in case you feel like you need some time and space for yourself to collect yourself.

He likes how you think a bit differently than others. He’s a little odd so he likes bouncing his goofy ideas off of you.

If you’re someone who needs to be moving your hands or fiddling with something then please play with his hands. He really wants you to and he gets to be helpful!

He wants you to be open with him about how you feel so he’ll try his hardest to lessen any anxiety you might have about telling him things you’re feeling or needing.

Have hyperfixations on specific things? Tell him about them! He likes hearing about what you like and why you do.

Those days where you just don’t really feel like being sociable or verbal, he lets you do you.

He’s as supportive as a person can get so he’ll do anything and everything he can to be accommodating and make you feel loved and understood.

Homelander

Like I said in my OCD post, he doesn’t totally understand or have patience for it at first.

He’s probably one of those people who does the whole “Just be normal!” type of spiel.

He does soften up and become more understanding later on.

It’s a bit of a “learning curve” for him.

During your relationship, his tolerance for people gets a little better as he learns what you need, what your limits/boundaries are, and how you do things.

The first time it really becomes something he gets and finds common ground with was at a Vought event.

He didn’t want to go, and he knew that you really didn’t want to go but you had to.

The music and the people were very loud. It was overstimulating but he had to keep going. Gotta keep up appearances. Then he heard your breathing really change.

He looked across the room to see you in the corner. He knew he was overstimulated but he could handle it, you couldn’t.

A wave of sympathy hit him hard. Excusing himself as politely as possible, he quickly cut through the crowd to you. Taking your hand, he nodded at you. Within seconds, you were out of there and on the roof. The air was cold and it was quiet in comparison. To your surprise he asked you if you were ok and sighed. He really understood you now.

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nancypullen · 2 years ago

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Typical Tuesday

Life moves at a snail’s pace here but so do I. I used to be such a bouncy, bright gal until my ankles and feet decided to turn on me. Now everything hurts and cracks, and scoffs at me when I say, “Hey we should dance!” Boy, I miss dancing. I still shimmy around the kitchen when I cook, but sustained dancing for an hour or so seems like a big ask. Poor, poor me.

I’m only thinking about that because I just tried making an appointment with an orthopedic doctor for a weird thing that’s causing pain in my left ankle, formerly known as my “good ankle”. I was on hold for about ten minutes, went through the new patient song and dance with a very friendly young woman, gave all of my pertinent info, and then she said, “Okay, just as soon as your former doctor sends your medical records someone will call you to schedule an appointment.” Well, crap. I replied, “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you will not request those records.” She confirmed that, said I’d have to get them to fax the records, and hopefully everyone would do their part and I can see a doctor before my foot falls off. Immediately after ending that call I placed a call to my doctor in Tennessee and said I needed my records to be faxed up here. That not-so-nice lady said that would require an official form from the doctor’s office in Maryland, and blah blah blah. I explained that they told me I had to make the request and maybe I get the form from them, or perhaps it could be emailed to me, or could I possibly find it on their (TN) website. I was battering her with all of the ways I might be able to get my hands on the form and get this done today, when she finally sighed and said, “Look just email me giving your permission to release the records and put your name and date of birth in the email.” Now, was that so hard? I thanked her profusely and sent the email fifteen seconds after we hung up. Who thinks that this will all go smoothly and I’ll get a call this week? I’d say those odds are slim. I hope I’m wrong, but I’ll bet I have to request the records at least once more and won’t see a doctor before September. Ugh. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I don’t post enough and I’m trying to make myself show up. It would help if I had something to actually write about but you’ll just have to bear with me. If I show up every day maybe my muse will show up too. Cross your fingers, light a candle, rub some beads.

Today started the way our days it always start. The mister gets up early and goes out for a long walk. He likes to show off his healthy feet. He listens to audiobooks and watches the town wake up. While he’s doing that I play word games on my phone (Wordle, Spelling Bee, Letter Boxed, Connections, etc). Then I have long conversations with the cats, eventually get up and make the bed, and ease into my day. We’re very different people. For example, he’s been watching Wimbledon and he caught me tuned into the Hallmark channel’s Christmas in July.

Don’t judge me. The world is on fire, I needed a dose of predictable sweetness with a happy ending. Speaking of sweetness, on Sunday we drove over to spend an afternoon with the Edgewater gang. Everyone is getting ready to scatter on different trips, so we wanted to hug them before that happened. Little Miss was as entertaining and fun as always. We were treated to a mermaid water show in her pool, I played Barbies with her for a little while, and then she belly laughed while driving her cats bonkers with a laser pointer. It was a full afternoon. A big storm blew in and dumped tons of rain that same afternoon. We made our exit when there was a break in the radar and raced the rain home. As we started across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge I saw these big freighters lined up to head into port, and those ominous clouds hovering above them. Yikes.

That was snapped from a moving car so the quality isn’t great, but...anyone else notice there’s a chunk of the bridge missing? I didn’t notice it when I took the picture, I was too busy looking at those ships. Doesn’t look big enough to alter the integrity of the structure, but what the heck happened there? Someone had a bad day.

On a happier note, I’ve got one sunflower fully opened and several nearly there. Aren’t they cheerful? I just love ‘em.

Other things that give me pleasure are clean windows (how’s that for a segue?). My sister turned me on to this fabulous spray cleaner.

It’s amazing. Even better, it smells wonderful and it’s just $2.50! I picked up my can at Walmart, I’m sure it’s sold elsewhere. Anyway, it’s cheap, it leaves windows sparkling and streak-free, and the fragrance smells just like the lobby of the fancy-schmancy Grosvenor House Hotel in London. No lie. When we stayed there like the Clampetts a few years back it was one of the best parts of the stay - walking into that lobby and being enveloped in the fragrance. I didn’t know if it was all of the fresh flowers, some special spray they used, or if that’s what loads of money smells like. Whatever it was, you can have it in your home for $2.50. I’m a fan. I’m not a fan of my hair. I mean, that’s not exactly news. It’s been an on-going battle since kindergarten. I’ve let it grow again, it’s long again, and I look stuck in the 70′s. My hair behaves a little better when it’s long, the weight is like a Thunder Shirt. But I don’t think the length is a friend to my face, I know the style isn’t. To be fair, I go through this every year during July and August. The height of summer heat and humidity always makes me want to shave my head. I was zipping along just fine in June, it wasn’t even hot. Right around the 4th of July the sticky heat arrived and my hair lost its dang mind. I’m walking around looking like this.

So I’m spending lots of time on Pinterest looking at short haircuts. I’m going to do it it’s just a matter of choosing a style (which won’t work), a place (good luck with that), and screwing up my courage. We all know this will be a disaster. It always is. I don’t think I’ve even once walked into a salon and walked out feeling better. It’s a generational curse. But it’s been quite a while since I tempted fate, and I’m feeing so ugly lately anyway, might as well. Best case scenario, I end up with a cute, fresh style that I like.

Worst case scenario, I look like Mrs. Claus.

It’s a safe bet that I have more Mrs. Claus tendencies than I do Helen Mirren tendencies. Darn. If nothing else maybe it’s just time for a change. Will I miss the ease of a ponytail or a big hair clip? Yep. Will I miss this same, old, tired hairstyle? Nope. Well, maybe. There’s always comfort in what we know vs the unknown. Finding a place is daunting. I called the Ulta salon in Easton thinking that if the haircut sucked then at least I’d be inside Ulta and I could treat myself to a new lipstick or something. They only have two stylists and a haircut and blowdry is $70. I will start up the weedeater and let it cut my hair before I pay $70. I don’t want to go to the salon that I visited in Denton, the owner cut my hair and she was delightful, but the haircut was not. There are plenty of others in the area, mostly pricey, so I may just have to throw a dart and pick a place. Or I could spend the rest of my life in a ponytail. Back to Pinterest...

Raise your hand if you’re tired of hearing me talk about my hair.

Told you I didn’t have anything to write about, pretty sure the glass cleaner was the high point of this post. I think I’ll head upstairs and soak in a bubble bath and lose myself in a book - a book where the main character has perfect hair. I hope that your week has been a delight so far. I hope that you have had at least one good laugh and at least two moments of pure pleasure. If not, hey, it’s only Tuesday! There’s plenty of time. Sending out loads of love tonight. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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luimagines · 2 years ago

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*walks on in tiredly, hands you a mug of hot chocolate and a basket filled with cake to match, does not elaborate* Hey there, just passing on by to wish you a nice day, hopefully things have been well for you and if not, may your days brighten soon for you surely brighten a lot of people's days ^^

Not really much to say today because my brain is too tired and sleep deprived but yelling about your writing shall come eventually xD, as for assumptions, hm...

Likes The Legend of Zelda obviously, favorite game is probably a tie between Twilight Princess, Ocarina of Time and or Majora's Mask and Skyward Sword, possibly one of them was your first game too.

Really kind and patient person, though quite clever too and talented given your merch, you have a lot of asks and presumably a lot on your plate but still manage to answer as many as possible and don't mind people rambling here about different concepts or series and also write with a good degree of frequency, also quite firm to put your foot down when you're not okay with something, not in a bad way! More in a fair sense, and willing to offer an ear or empathy if someone's having a hard time, not many people can do that while keeping a level head.

Very cozy? The type of person who's very comfortable to be around in a sense, the type you think is really cool even if you only interacted once, but definitely the type someone might feel shy when actually approaching to interact or who might not go through with talking with as a result of said ahyness, plus your writing really makes my day some times, specially during bad ones, nothing better than suddenly find out you posted and reading through it with a mug of coffee or a cup of tea while my dog is curled up nearby, specially after some tiring days. Like a warm cappuccino cup with a book on an autumn afternoon if you will.

So over all someone who's doing their best and who anyone would be lucky to be friends with really ^^

Also Twilight is definitely one of your favorite Links, I have no idea who the runner up to him could be (possibly Time, because we all are simply Circe and Calypso when in the face of that man who'd give Odysseus a run for his money), but you can definitely talk about him for a long time and as a Twilight enjoyer that delights me a lot XD

Anyway, not really much to say besides that which likely has not been said before, so once again, thank you for all your work in the fandom, for inspiring me a d of course I hope you have many nice days and nights ahead of you!

-Just a Tired Anon on a Stroll/WintertimeStoryteller 🐚

Actually nope on the game guess. XD

I've been in the fandom for a while, but I've only played my first LoZ game back in 2020 and it was Breath of the Wild. ^.^*

My merch?..... My merch!??!... Like my shop? XD

Goodness, I've associated that word with like... youtubers and stuff with their own brands and such. It hit me like a truck until I remembered the full meaning of the word. Whoops-

(I do try to patient no matter the person/circumstance DX I'm glad it comes off that way.)

Cozy is the probably the highest compliment I've ever received from anyone ever. I gotta hang that up somewhere.

Twilight is one of my favorites, yes.... and also very quickly followed by Time. -.-

I realize that I am not subtle in that at all. XD

And you're an incredible individual as well. <3

I hope your days and nights are pleasant and darling. I love your rambles and long asks XD

#pinky replies #pinky answers #this was very sweet and a lovely surprise to find in my inbox <3 #I'm still on that wild west story you're teasing me with #Don't think I've forgotten ;-)

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 14 days ago

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Hi, do you have a snippet from one of the stories chapter to share?

Yeah, I can share something. This is currently everything I have written for Visited on the Son. I haven’t worked on it in a few weeks because I’ve been getting a lot of asks recently that I’m trying to work through. Also I’ve just been super busy with work this week so I haven’t had as much time or energy as I’d like to write. Next week will be more normal for me so hopefully I’ll get more done. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Spider sat in the dirt, the little charms he’d made for his Sempu’s songcord spread out in front of him. He wasn’t really sure what his father would want past a bead for Spider’s birth but that didn’t stop him from finding options. A pretty rock with swirls of color. A soft, vibrant feather. A dried flower. Spider was happy with his little collection but knew he still needed more. His Sempu was old. He probably needed about a hundred different beads for his songcord. Maybe there’s some nice shells by the river. Or maybe I can find an animal claw if I walk around the forest….

“Spider,” Sempu called from the distance. The boy hurried to put all his trinkets into his hip bag. The bushes rustled behind him, his father stepping into the small clearing. He stood over him, hands on his hips. “What are you doing?”

Spider jumped to his feet, clutching his bag close. “Nothing!”

Sempu raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. “Well you’re definitely up to somethin’. You know better than to wander off by yourself.”

“But Mrs. Sully called my friends back home for lunch and nap time!”

“So you come back to me. You don’t go off into the forest without a word.” Spider pouted, hanging his head. Sempu held out his hand to him. “Come on now. I think you're due for lunch and a nap.”

Spider stomped his foot in protest. “But I’m not hungry and I’m not sleepy!”

Sempu just laughed at him, too used to this song and dance to be affected. “Okay sunshine. Whatever you say.” Without warning Sempu snatched him up, balancing Spider on his hip. Spider yelped in surprise but didn’t fight it, also used to this. “My lessons are done for the day. Let’s head home…”

“Nnnooooo!”

“Yessssss! It’ll be easier for you to eat at home. And wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed…..”

“No!” Miles rolled his eyes, choosing not to argue with his seven year old. He knew perfectly well that his boy would cheer up once he ate, then happily snuggle up in bed with his viperwolf plushie.

As they crossed back into the village, the father held his head high. The very second a villager caught sight of them the hissing, jeers and glares started. Gently, Miles guided his son’s face into his shoulder. He cradled his boy’s little head, softly pressing his palm into Spider’s ear. As he walked he ignored all the people throwing venom his way, keeping a swift but seemingly unbothered pace. Spider was obviously to it all, though he was annoyed and irritated by his father’s firm hold. “Sempu!”

His father’s fingers pet his hair but his palm refused to budge. “Shhh. It’s okay.”

Spider started squirming. “Sempu! Let me down!”

“Just hold on a minute,” Miles said patiently as he quickened his step. Surrounding him was nothing but a sea of hateful faces.

“Sempu!”

“It’s okay.” A villager acted as if they were going to attack, lunging at him, only to rear back and laugh as Miles went on the defensive, clutching his son tighter. The father glared but didn’t stop.

“Let me down!” Spider beat his fists into his father’s sides. Miles ignored him to focus on getting out. Mercifully the gateway to the village came into his view. Without any more incidents they crossed its threshold. Spider was still fighting for release but his Sempu refused. He did however move his hand away from Spider's head, giving him room to turn and look around. “Sempu!”

His little boy was red faced and raging. “I know, I know you weren’t a fan of that.”

“So why’d you do it!”

Miles sighed. There was no way he’d be able to explain it in a way that wouldn’t upset Spider. Instead he brushed the question off, “oh I just wanna hold y’a is all. One day you’ll be as tall as me! I’m not gonna be able to pick y’a up or carry y’a or…”

Spider giggled, “you’re silly Sempu! I’m never gonna be as big as you!”

Miles grinned. He moved Spider from his hip to hold in the air, lightly throwing the boy upwards. His son shrieked with laughter. “Not with that attitude! If y’a eat all your vegetables, get a good night's sleep, and take a nice long nap every day then I know you’ll be as tall as me!”

“Really!” Spider’s eyes were shining.

“Really.”

“Sempu, can I have one of those salad things for lunch?”

“Oh, y’a mean the thing you refuse to eat every night because you say it’s icky even though y’a never try it.”

“Yeah that! Can I have one of those!”

Internally Miles was cackling over his stroke of brilliance. “Of course y’a can! And after that you can take a nap.”

Spider radiated excitement saying with a big bright smile, “okay!”

As soon as they reached their apartment Spider dashed off to his room to change. After the heat of the jungle the poor boy was nearly shaking from how cold the base felt in comparison. Miles busied himself with making lunch, preparing a salad of mixed greens, shredded carrots, chopped tomatoes, and a sprinkling of cheese all tossed in a honey mustard dressing. Then he threw together a turkey sandwich to serve on the side, setting the meal in Spider’s spot at the table with a glass of water. Perfectly timed, Spider came trotting into the room, snuggled in a light blue fleece hoodie and loose sweatpants, his viperwolf plushie clutched close.

“Wolfie gonna eat with us,” Miles asked, as Spider climbed into his chair. The boy happily nodded. “Okay then.” Miles grabbed a small bowl out of the cupboard, setting it on the table for Wolfie to “eat” out of. It was much easier giving the stuffed animal imaginary food, then to try and pry Spider’s prized toy away to wash after the boy smeared his food all over it in an attempt to “feed” it. Spider walked his plushy to the bowl, making little animal noises as Wolfie “ate.” When he was satisfied that his toy was full he placed it beside him then dug into his own meal. Miles smiled down at him, petting Spider’s hair a few times before taking a seat to quietly watch his son.

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hairtransplant-stories · 3 months ago

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Stand-up Comedian Gets Hair Transplants to Make Jokes About Bald People!

youtube

When laughter meets change, the result is inspiring and enjoyable. Meet Arjun Rana, a stand-up comedian who brings humor to many stages and social media. Known for his relatable corporate-themed sketches, Arjun makes people laugh while highlighting the quirks of corporate life. However, he also has a personal concern - his receding hairline.

Introducing Arjun Rana

Arjun isn’t just a comedian; he’s a storyteller who finds humor in the mundane. With over eight years of stand-up comedy experience and a growing Instagram presence @arjunranacomedy, his content has gone viral multiple times. Whether he’s portraying a grumpy manager or interacting with his imaginary team, Arjun’s goal has always been to make people laugh and think. Yet, like many performers, his physical appearance, including his hairline, started to affect his confidence.

In Arjun’s words: “For the past 5–6 years, I’ve been noticing my hairline receding. I’m not saying being bald is a bad thing — many carry it off brilliantly — but I felt a full head of hair would suit my personality better. It’s about what boosts your confidence, right?”

Why Hairfree and Hairgrow?

After years of research and trying various treatments with little success, Arjun stumbled upon Hairfree and Hairgrow, India’s leading hair transplant clinic. Established in 2011, the clinic boasts over 100,000 satisfied patients, multiple branches across India and Bangladesh, and a soon-to-be-launched branch in Dubai. Their state-of-the-art facilities, experienced doctors, and patient-centric approach set them apart.

Arjun’s decision to choose Hairfree and Hairgrow wasn’t just based on their reputation. A conversation with a friend, who had a positive experience, led him to book a consultation at the Pune branch with Dr. Kiran. From the moment he stepped into the clinic, Arjun was struck by the warm and friendly atmosphere.

The Consultation Experience

In his signature humorous style, Arjun shared his initial skepticism: “You know how some clinics feel like a black hole? You get sucked in, and there’s no escape! But this was different. Dr. Kiran treated me like family. He explained the science behind the treatments, clarified my doubts, and even told me what I didn’t need.”

Dr. Kiran suggested a minor transplant procedure for Arjun’s temples and a tailored care routine. Arjun appreciated the honesty and lack of unnecessary upselling. The staff’s professionalism, combined with a personal touch, made all the difference.

What’s Next for Arjun?

Arjun is currently undergoing the recommended procedures and is optimistic about the results. As he humorously puts it, “Hopefully, my next movie role won’t be ‘the hero’s dad’ but ‘the hero’ himself!”

In addition to the treatments, Arjun has collaborated with Hairfree and Hairgrow to create a series of entertaining and educational videos about his journey. These videos capture his signature humor and provide valuable insights into the hair transplant process.

A Sneak Peek at the Videos

Here’s a glimpse of Arjun’s houmor:

“Doctor saab, I’m 35 years old… or am I just a grumpy manager in some IT company?” “Fitness certificate for this six-foot-two-inch body? Really? Okay, fine, let’s do it… but jokes apart, appearances can be deceiving.” “I’m not saying hair makes you Superman, but a good hairline? Now that’s kryptonite for low confidence.”

Stay Tuned!

Arjun’s journey with Hairfree and Hairgrow is an ongoing story. With his treatments underway, he’s excited to share the results with his audience. The first video in this collaboration is already live on YouTube, and there’s more to come. From candid consultations to behind-the-scenes moments, these videos promise to be as entertaining as his stand-up sets.

So, stay tuned and join Arjun as he combines laughter and transformation in his quest for confidence. After all, when humor meets heart, the possibilities are endless!

#arjun pratap rana hair transplant #permanent hair transplant #hair transplant #hair transplant in india #hair transplant surgery #hair transplant before and after #best hair transplant #male hair transplant #best hair transplant in india #hair transplant teaser #direct hair transplant #non trim hair transplant #hair transplant results #hair transplant doctors #celebrity hair transplant #hair transplantation #hair transplantation clinic #natural hair result after dht #Youtube

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pennzance · 1 year ago

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Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 8)

Episode 8: Long Black Hair

Date: August 30th, 1998

Incident report by Jeremy

I discovered something about myself today: I like watching horror movies, but I do NOT like being IN them. Especially when all of my muscles hurt.

Amber’s new ‘fitness program’ is sort of brutal. I get that she was in the military, but it was the Air Force. They can’t have been THIS crazy about fitness. I’d also like to put down on paper that ‘burpees’ are complete horseshit. My arms have never hurt this badly before and I want my mommy.

All of that aside, we responded to another call from the hospital following up on a previous visit to the 6th floor of the Mental Ward. According to the call, the long black hair had returned. Since it vanished on us last time, Amber and I took the Ecto-908 with all haste to the hospital, leaving Bryan to his research and Eric to… whatever Eric does. I’m not a hundred percent clear on his contributions, honestly. Anyway…

We each took a pack, a trap, and a meter, and we split up to make a full sweep of the 6th floor. This was our first mistake.

Port Huron doesn’t get a lot of crazies, at least not the murderously psychotic kind, so most of the residents of the Mental Ward are on suicide watches or recovering from psychedelic drug overdoses. People in that state are prone to any kind of behavior, so responding to the first scream I heard didn’t help anyone since all I did was be in the nurses’ way as I tried to question a guy still hopped up on a nearly lethal amount of acid. He did not provide good information.

The meters were registering low levels of activity though, so there was something still on the 6th floor. Hospitals, especially old ones, can be mazes and cliché though it may be I’m not the kind to ask directions or look at maps, so I was flatly lost. I was trying to find my way back to the elevators when I rounded a corner and saw it.

It looks like someone just laying on the floor. Ther head was pointed toward me, face down, with long black hair splayed out everywhere on the floor. I heard a squeaking sound and realized that was its hands on the floor, sliding slowly backward as it bent at the waist, dragging its face on the tile. I called out, thinking it might have been another patient, and that’s when it looked up, the hair completely obscuring the face.

It let out a scream and bolted up from the floor into a run toward me.

I let out a scream and ran the hell away.

A nurse I passed in the hall pinned herself to the wall as I ran by and I heard her scream as well as she saw what was chasing me. I risked a look over my shoulder to see it hadn’t bothered with her and kept coming after me. I shouted for Amber, not entirely sure I wasn’t running in a circle with all my muscles on fire.

She stepped out into the hallway in front of me and levelled her nuetrona emitter. She waited for me to pass her before she let that thing have a full blast of positron collider in the face. I skidded to a stop and grabbed my own nuetrona wand, heating up the pack and determined to avenge my dignity.

The thing writhed under the undulating beams of light we hit it with. I only noticed then that Amber had the trap out and ready, and in a stomp of one foot and a flash of light, the long black hair was sucked into the steel trap of science.

I doublechecked the trap, and Amber just started laughing. Apparently it’s ‘hilarious’ that a man of my size screams in the octave I do. I fail to see the humor. Also my voice is quite hoarse now. Everything hurts.

End of Report.

ADDITIONAL: Jeremy moves VERY quickly for a man of his size with the proper motivation. We went out to get some ice cream to calm his nerves after we finished sweeping the hospital for any other activity. He’s a sweet guy when he isn’t absorbed in his tinkering. I feel like the team is getting along better now than we used to, which is good. Hopefully we keep getting better. – Amber.

ADDITIONAL ADDITIONAL: I contribute a lot, thank you very much! – Eric.

#pennzance writes #ghostbusters #ghostbusters port huron

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unhingedexperimenter · 6 months ago

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"If you want to talk about it when you're ready, you'll know where to find me." Rachel smiled at her friend. "I know. Now take your potion. I'm sure Hyde is itching to be freed. I know he's telling you to hurry." Henry couldn't help but laugh at that as it was indeed true. Hyde enjoyed his freedom so much. He would jump at any chance of it. Rachel went outside the room to allow Henry to finally ingest the vial of HJ7. Both Henry and Edward hated being watched during their transformations. It was often a vulnerable state for them. It also felt somewhat embarrassing to be gawked at. Hyde had to chase off lodgers with his cane. Before the fire incident had happened. When the transformation was finished, Hyde dressed himself up in new clothing that he had recently bought. Papers, pens, and supplies were soon shoved into a worn bag. He smiled widely as the adrenaline pumped through him. Today was going to be much better than the previous. That was for sure. He wasn't going to be chased down this time. Hyde wasn't going to encounter that strange man. Hopefully. He was going to be properly trained. Hyde spotted Henry's old goggles and had a thought. His grin became wider. "This will complete my brilliant outfit!" He took the goggles and placed them onto his hat. This was purely an aesthetic choice, and Hyde liked it a lot. Once the criminal was satisfied with his appearance, he finally opened the door and stepped out to see Rachel. She was patiently waiting outside to see him off. "Hyde, please be careful. I know that you're excited, but please be cautious when out there. Alright?" Rachel worrying over him wasn't exactly new, but the way she seemed this time. It was different than usual. "Oi! I'm the spirit of London at night! I'm going to be just fine! No one will mess with me!" That was his way of reassuring the other. She gave him an appreciative smile. "As long as you watch yourself. Thank you, Hyde." Hyde just huffed at that. Not wanting to admit that he was touched by how worried she got. Hyde quickly spent a little time with Amber before he left. Telling her he loves her. Giving her loving encouragement. He didn't want to leave her so soon, but Dr.Two-Brains was expecting him. He didn't notice the extremely troubled expression Rachel had as he left the apartment. Hyde decided to travel by foot once more. If he was going to be honest, Hyde preferred it this way. He hated driving. It always felt much too cooped up for him. Having to follow so many rules. It was better just to travel by foot and rooftops. When he finally arrived at the warehouse, the blond knocked at the door. One of the henchmen answered. It was Manny. "Hey, boss told us you were coming. Hey. You tricked us before. But that's okay since you're supposed to be here now." He was surprised that Manny forgave him so easily. He was not getting mad at him. There was that pang of guilt. Damn it. Repressing emotions wasn't his thing. It was Henry's. "Thanks. Where is Whiskers anyway?" Manny stepped to the side, allowing the other in. He wasn't expecting Dr.Two-Brains to be with four people. One who he recognized. "He's talking with the other, but he'll be right there." Charlie joined them. Smiling at Hyde with no trace of anger in his face. They were far too nice. “Really? Fine. I'll wait here until they're done talking.” He huffed in annoyance. Hyde made sure not to be late and he still ended up being late! “Be patient, Hyde. I'm sure it's something important.” Hyde rolled his eyes at that. “What? I'm waiting.” He glanced over to see a ray gun on a table in the distance. That immediately caught his attention. “Hyde…don't even think of it.” He grinned. “I don't know what you could mean.” Henry frowned. He knew that look anywhere. When the henchmen were distracted by something, Hyde took advantage. Quickly making his way to what caught his attention. “Hyde!” The criminal ignored his counterpart. Picking it up and examining it closely. “Wow. Look at that-” Hyde didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. While he had it pointed at himself, the device was activated.

@thecountoflondonfansite

(You can tag me on my tgs side blog. I also apologize but I know a few Scottish words. So to anyone reading this I apologize for the inaccuracy.) Becky Boxleitner noticed a change in the atmosphere as she and her pet monkey Bob walked into the sixth grade classroom. All of the students were excitedly chatting with one another. Becky and Bob exchanged confused looks at the scene. 'What is going on?' They both thought. Becky walked to where her friends Violet Heaslip, Rose Franklin, and Todd Scoops Ming were sitting, also joining in the excited yet low volume chattering. "Hey guys what's going on?" Becky asked her friends. They each turned their heads to greet their friend. "Hey Becky guess what, we're getting a new teacher for our class!" Scoops exclaimed. Becky looked surprised at the announcement. Bob also mimicked her facial expression. "Wait really? What happened to Miss Davis?" Becky asked, wondering what happened to their old teacher. It was just a week only into the new school year so a sudden teacher exchange was a complete shock to Becky especially since there were no announcements about it beforehand. "Miss Davis had to move back home because of a family emergency." Rose Franklin answered. "The principal had to scramble to find a new teacher to fill in for our class. It was all last minute stuff." Becky nodded in understanding of her friends' answers. It was a nice perk to be friends who were upcoming reporters. Soon the final bell rang which indicated for every student to take their seats. Becky took her place beside her best friend Violet and Bob plopped down next to her. Soon a man who looked to be in his mid 30s walked in and towards the desk. He had curly brown air, an arched nose, and reddish brown eyes. He wore a tan button-down shirt with a red vest as well as brown slacks and dark suede shoes. The man gave a pleasant and warm smile to all the students there. "Hello my name is Dr. Henry Jekyll and I will be your teacher for the school year." Becky and the other kids ears perked up as they took note of the man's accent. Even Tobey became slightly interested in his new teacher. None of them were sure where their new teacher was from. Dr. Jekyll gave a light chuckle as if he could sense their growing curiosity about him. He lightly clapped his hands together to gain their undivided attention and focus. "Well since this is my first time teaching here, why don't we all play a little game so we can all get better acquainted with each other. Here's what to do. One at a time, say your name and share a wee bit about yourself. Likes, family, interests and all that. I'll go first to show ya what ah mean. Again. My name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. I was born in Glasgow but ah moved to London where I attended university. I have a five year old wee lassie or daughter named Amber. I enjoy chemistry and reading on occasions. Now who would like to go next?" @unhingedexperimenter

Of course Tobey had taken the opportunity to place attention on himself and to have a reason to boast about himself. “My name is Tobey McCallister the third and I will be the most intelligent student you'll meet here.” The others had rolled their eyes, used to this kind of behavior from their peers. Becky seemed to be the most annoyed by it. Having been forced to put up with his destructive tantrums in the past. Henry smiled just as warmly as before. Unbothered by the obnoxious behavior that the boy had been displaying. Tobey had been going on about himself for a good few minutes before the teacher finally spoke up. “Ahem, yes. Thank you for that Mr. McCallister. Would anyone else like to tell me a bit about themselves as well?” No one could tell that behind the facade, Dr. Henry Jekyll was becoming more irritated by the moment. Not by the child but by the pest that refused to leave him be. Scoffing within his head at what they just heard. He didn't share the disembodied voice's opinion but wanted to give the other children a chance to introduce themselves as well. To the others' shock, Tobey seemed to have taken this well. Quickly going back to his desk with no issues. Becky was relieved at that. Soon the other children had started to introduce themselves to their new teacher with little to no issues. He seemed genuinely nice enough to her. This new teacher didn't seem like most of the adults within this city. Some she had to define words repeatedly for. Dr. Jekyll knew what he was teaching and knew his vocabulary. It was Violet who had brought Becky out from her own thoughts, calling her name. Waving a hand in front of her face. “Becky?” The girl smiled in an embarrassed manner. “Huh? Yes?” Violet smiled, patient with her best friend. “Why don't you introduce yourself now? Nearly everybody else already did.” She had given a surprised expression. Becky hadn't realized that she was so lost within her thoughts until then. She stood up and began speaking. “My name is Becky Boxleitner and I also like libraries,reading and Pretty Princess.” The presence that was grating at the teacher's nerves had deemed this too dull to enjoy. Leaving Dr. Jekyll be to his teaching. Well, getting to know his students. He was happy to see that they were engaged in these activities that were meant to break the ice. Though one student in particular had caught his attention the most. Becky. While she did seem rather bright, there was something strange about her behavior at times. Pausing whatever she was doing at the time to listen in on something. Thinking it went unnoticed. Even once looking alarmed and she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. He had allowed it. Feeling that it would've been better to have let her. It seemed…oddly familiar. As if he had seen that behavior somewhere before but couldn't figure out exactly where from. When the school day was finally over, Becky had gone to go home like the others. Dr. Jekyll had of course stayed behind to set more things up within his new classroom. Making a plan on exactly what he'll actually start teaching the next day. Though, the grating voice had returned to be a thorn in his side. “Come on. Leave this boring stuff alone. Leave it until tomorrow. I've been pent up for far too long. Let's have some fun.” This had earned an eye roll and a loud huff from the teacher. “No, I've got to get this done now. You will have enough time tonight. Just be patient until then.” A shadowy figure formed in front of Dr. Jekyll. A frown on its face. “But this is so extremely dull. I want to stretch my legs. I want to make myself known already.” Dr. Jekyll glared. “And that is precisely why I'm so hesitant to let you out so soon. At least let us get acclimated to our surroundings first.” The figure let out an annoyed groan. “You know you want this as much as I do. Otherwise you'd never have any actual fun in the sad and pathetic life you call yours.”

@thecountoflondonfansite

#rp

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17boyzz · 3 years ago

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young love - joshua hong

seventeen as romantic tropes - high school sweethearts

some high school au, idol joshua x gn!reader ish?

•

you started dating joshua the summer after freshman year. the two of you were young, dumb, and foolishly ‘in love’.

you met him in your guitar class elective, him being assigned as your partner for the semester. he was the same as he is now; sweet, gentle, patient, and always knew how to bring you to comfort using his words. he always made you feel safe and secure, even just as your guitar partner. you cheeks would heat up whenever he got a little closer and gently arranged your fingers on the fingerboard to form the right chord, taking your other hand in his to help you strum.

“see? isn’t it easier?” he giggled, watching you repeatedly strum the new chord you learned to play.

it had been like that the entire semester. you were falling - had fallen - so deeply for joshua hong, you couldn’t handle it anymore. you had absolutely no idea if he felt the same, but it being the last day of school before summer break, you decided to go for it.

“h-hey, joshua…” you sat next to him in your assigned seat.

“hey y/n, what’s up?” he asked, instantly noticing something off.

“oh nothing, i just had something i wanted to ask you, you know, if you’re fine with it”

“of course i am. when have i never been okay with you asking questions?” he smiled, giving your shoulder and friendly pat.

“i don’t know, well, okay… i was wondering if you like, i don’t know, maybe wanted to go out with me?” he asked quietly, but you know he heard it because of the way he looked at you, the same way he looks whenever he’s processing what you say.

“i thought you’d never ask, y/n. of course i do” he smiled widely, taking your hand in his.

“text me a date, time, and place. i’ll be there, i promise”

that was the very beginning. you lasted through the summer with him becoming your boyfriend, and all your friends were surprised at the beginning of sophomore year when you finally told them about the relationship.

people change throughout high school, it’s a common knowledge. but joshua, joshua on the other hand, he didn’t change one bit. okay, that was a lie. throughout the years you dated him, you watched him grow into himself, grow into a better person. he became even sweeter, kinder, and overall and lovely person to be in the presence of.

“you doing okay over there, babe?” he asked from the foot of your bed.

“yeah, good enough i guess. chemistry is just kicking my ass, though” you sighed, throwing your pencil down.

“oh, i think i still have my sisters old chem notes from when she was in 10th grade. let me find them” he instantly turned to his bag and dug around, and you watched him with a gentle smile on your face.

“oh i found them - here! hopefully these should help. my sister was really good at note taking” he hands you the obviously old papers with colorful and organized vocabulary and definitions.

“you’re the best, shua” you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“i try. also, you missed” he gives you a cheeky smirk.

“missed? what did i miss?” you asked, only a little confused.

“i said… you missed” he points towards his lips.

“joshua, i’m not having my first kiss with you in my bedroom over chemistry homework” you folded your arms, and he rolled his eyes.

“whatever, i tried. i’m going to kiss you this week, you’ll see” he sent you a cheeky wink and went back to his homework, leaving you to ponder upon what his plans were.

he kept his promise.

the boardwalk was oddly empty for a friday night, though most people do tend to visit and leave at sunset. you and joshua though - it was nearing 1am and your phone buzzed with missed calls and texts from your parents, but you couldn’t care less.

he held you under the stars, gazing out into the pacific. your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, the two of you sharing body heat.

“y/n…” he called gently, making you hum and look up at him. he held eye contact, and it wasn’t awkward like it had been with others. it was gentle, loving, and comforting. he brought a hand to rest on your jaw, tilting your head up just a little more, eyes dropping down to your slightly parted lips, anticipating his next move.

he leans in slightly before speaking, “can i kiss you?” you feel his breath on your lips. you could only mutter a small ‘yes’ before he closes the gap. it was perfect, the perfect first kiss. it felt like a fairytale, even though neither of you knew how to kiss back then.

“i love you, joshua. don’t you know?” you pulled back to whisper, leading to his small chuckle.

“i think you’ll need to tell me again, and maybe just a couple more times after that to be sure. i love you more, y/n”

junior year is when joshua left. you respected his dreams of being a kpop idol of course, who were you to stop him? joshua was so in love with you, you knew that if you asked him, he would stay for you. you knew that if you asked him, he would give up his dreams to stay for you. joshua would do anything for you, it was your selflessness that made him happy.

“i passed the audition” he announced, holding your hands in his.

“oh my, that’s good, isn’t it? i’m so proud of you, shua” you smiled, taking one of your hands to cup his face.

“i’ll have to leave, you know? leave you, leave the school, leave this all behind” his voice had dropped to a whisper and he instinctively leaned into your palm.

“i know, shua. i know” you brought your other hand to his other cheek, bringing him in to rest his forehead on yours.

“i don’t want to leave you, y/n” he mumbles, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“i don’t want you to leave either”

“y/n”

“what’s up?”

“if you want me to stay… just say the words and i’ll stay” his arms wrap around your waist.

“shua… we both know what i want…” you sighed, knowing joshua was going to be a little stubborn about this.

“then i’ll stay”

“no, joshua. you should go. i want you to go” you pushed, shaking your head a bit.

“you… want me to leave?”

“shua, don’t get me wrong, okay? i want you to stay. i love you, i love you so much and just thinking about being away from you breaks me inside. but, this is your dream. i want you to be happy-“

“but you make me happy”

“i know, josh. but, people come and go. the opportunity to chase your dreams doesn’t come everyday. once you’re out there and famous, you’ll have everybody falling at your feet. people like me come and go. dreams stay, and i want you to chase your dreams. i don’t want to be in the way of your dreams”

“y/n…”

“if i have to be the one to do the breaking up, then i will. i’ll still see you off at the airport, but you need to start thinking of yourself now. just know, i’ll always support you, okay?” you pressed a small kiss to his nose, and he nodded.

“joshua hong”

“y/n?”

“i’m breaking up with you”

and that was it. the best relationship you started and ended. you never met anybody else better than joshua. no matter how many dates you’ve gone on, nobody ever stood a chance to joshua. but you’re happy.

now, you’re able to turn on the tv and see your high school sweetheart on tv, happy, and living his dream.

it hurt. it hurt so bad breaking up with him. it hurt seeing him off at the airport, the last time you ever saw him; in person at least. but you’re happy.

#comet writes svt #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fics #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen joshua #seventeen joshua hong #joshua #joshua hong

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poisonedapples · 4 years ago

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other.

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit.

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s��cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

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pingguins · 3 years ago

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Begin Again | Chapter 2: Grit

Newt x Reader

Words: 2,826

Warnings: Talks of suicide and mentions of torture.

Synopsis: What do you do when you’ve gotten out? Out of the Maze, out of The Scorch, with WICKED supposedly destroyed? When the love of your life turns into the monster you and your friends have tried and failed to outrun?

The story takes place after Death Cure. Newt’s alive, but so are the workers of the people who trapped and tortured you.

As more of the story unfolds, Y/N and Newt have to survive and live with the fact that both are willing to die for each other. Hopefully, with allies ahead, they will go on to have a life instead of just surviving.

Everything happens for a reason. Now that Newt’s life has been given another chance, we can only wish that the story ends without having another’s taken away.

Even when all else fails, with enough time and perseverance-often times with strategy and purpose-life finds a way to begin again.

The lights were blaring as usual. This wretched place was always so bright, even at night. They said it was so that they can continue to monitor what I do in my room, as if I had anything to help me escape.

I lay on my bed, dressed in my white hospital gown, the areas where they inserted the needles still ached. It’s been a week, exactly seven days. They experimented on me just when I woke up, and right before I went to bed.

And every time, without fail, I would hear Newt shout my name, hoping to somehow ease my pain as he banged on the glass door.

Starting today, though, they said they would only “monitor” my brain activity once a day before I go to bed.

Hopefully, that would give Newt’s hands some time to rest.

Speaking of Newt, Grace brought something of his back to me the other day. I stood up, purposely tripping on my own foot as I fell down onto the white-tiled floor. I used the bed for support to stand back up, all the while discreetly getting the bracelet from underneath the mattress with my other hand.

I bunched it up at small as I can, the leather and twine rough against my palm as I sat on the bed, making sure to hide the bracelet under the white linen cloth and left it there.

Turning to the camera in the corner of the room, I yelled. “I know you’re watching you shuck-faces. Go tell someone to give me some water, I’m thirsty. It’s the least you can do after poking around in my brain all week,” I scoffed.

I swung my legs up onto the bed, draping the blanket over them, making sure that my left hand was also being covered as I clutched the bracelet tightly, fidgeting with it as I patiently wait for my water to arrive.

There was a button I could use beside my bed to call for someone when I needed it, but I never used it when I wanted a specific person to come to my room.

Matt was always watching—at least I hoped he was—and if I was right, Grace would be walking in soon with a glass and a pitcher of water, complete with a WICKED uniform.

As I waited, I laid down on my bed, placing the blanket up to my neck as I clutched the bracelet close to my heart. I was tired, I was lonely, and I had no idea if my friends ever made it to the Safe Haven. Tears spilt from my eyes as I silently cried for the future I yearned to have.

“The Maze Trials are going to start soon, the subjects have to be prepared,” Janson’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Like usual, I could feel the wires attached to my body, whirring machines could be heard accompanying the voices from behind the glass where Ava and Janson spoke.

“They’re already prepared. They’ve got through all the tests. All that’s left is to actually send them into the Maze,” Ava answered.

For supposedly smart people, they certainly aren’t mindful enough to notice when they’ve left the mic on.

“I’m not talking about the Group A and B,” Janson replied. I couldn’t see how they communicated, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were clearly hiding something.

“We don’t even know for sure if she’s going into the Maze or what group she’ll be in,” he continued.

“We’ll have to see how she reacts. Besides, we aren’t sending Subject A5 in until the 3rd month. We have until then to intervene,” the woman replied, her voice remaining firm and professional.

“So that’s A6, A7, A13, and A5 as the first four subjects?”

Shit. Alby, Minho, Matt, and Newt.

No answer came after that, just a low hum that made my heart sink to my stomach.

Later that day, I spoke to Matt about what I heard. I wanted to tell the others, but Janson and Ava had been keeping tabs on me entire day, Matt was the first person I could get ahold of the moment they left me alone.

We were in the corner of the cafeteria, and Matt just about had a breakdown when he’d heard about how close the Maze Trials were.

“I don’t want to leave—”

“You’re not leaving,” I interrupted. “If there’s anyone here who’d serve as an asset to them, it’s you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I continued. “And I don’t want to leave him alone in there. You don’t want to go into the Maze because you have no reason to, but I do. All you have to do is trust me.”

I woke up to the sound of the door opening, and glass hitting metal as a pitcher and a glass cup were placed on my bed-side table. The person who entered wore a full WICKED uniform, the masked figure looking up at the camera and back to me before removing their mask.

“Matt can only give us ten to fifteen minutes tops before he gets caught. So, any updates?” Grace asked, with one hand on her hip as she smoothed her hair with the other. I smirked.

“How’s Newt?”

Grace sat down on the bed with an exasperated sigh. “You signalled me here… to ask about your boyfriend?” she pouted.

“More or less, yeah,” I giggled. “No, but seriously. He has WICKED wrapped around his finger so we can really use him.”

“Well,” she sighed, giving me a pointed look. “If you really want to know, Newt seemed bored as hell, not to mention how worried he’s been for you. I don’t get how that guy hasn’t broken his vocal cords from all the screaming yet,” she joked. Well, half-joked. I wondered the same thing.

Before I could respond, Grace shifted so that her body faced me. “What did you dream about? You— you were mumbling in your sleep.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to recall what exactly happened in the dream. It was pretty vague, but I could remember enough details, I guess. “I— it was before the Maze. Matt was there, and we were talking about something about him not going into the Maze?”

She froze as her breath hitched. I could already tell what she was thinking.

“So… I’m guessing it was a memory?” I asked. Grace kept her mouth shut as she nodded. I hummed, “Yeah, they said with all the klunk they’ve been doing to my brain that some of my memories might get jogged.”

I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing. The people we were before and after the Maze are very different people, and whatever happened in the past has got to be left behind. Who knows what can change if any of us remember?

Taking a deep breath in, I shake my head to get rid of the image of Teresa standing with Ava Paige in that Berg. She was on our side until she got her memories back. I can’t risk that for Newt and I.

“I don’t want to remember,” I whispered. Grace didn’t say a word, she only placed a gentle hand on my back to comfort me. “What if remembering changes how Newt sees me? What if I go back to being who I was before the Maze?”

The girl beside me chuckled, patting my back before fiddling with her helmet. “What makes you think you’re so different from before?”

I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“I’d say more, but you said you didn’t want to know, so…” she teased, smirking as she side-eyed me.

I scoffed, hitting her gently on her shoulder as she laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep going,” she giggled, letting out a breath as she recalled stories from several years ago. “Matt...he prefers to stay behind and take care of the cameras because he doesn’t want to talk to you.” Grace looked directly at the camera, giving it a pointed look, “yes, Matt, I’m telling her.”

She shook her head, her gaze going back to the helmet that her hands fidgeted with. “From what I know, you weren’t supposed to be in the Maze, he was. I’m not quite clear on how, but you knew the order of who was going into the Maze.”

My mind went back to the dream I had a few moments ago, recalling the events that had happened. It’s funny how even in my dreams, my brain was still being monitored and I was in a facility that looked eerily similar to the one I’m in now.

“Matt didn’t want to go…” Grace continued. “But you did. Because you wanted to be with Newt to make sure he was safe, even if you knew you weren’t going to remember each other. You caused a lot of chaos for that to happen,” she finished.

She looked up, looking directly at my eyes, her eyes swimming with emotions I couldn’t read. “Your memories were taken away from you, and yet, even after all of that, your mind never changed. You still want Newt to be safe, and you’re still going above and beyond to make that happen.”

I didn’t know what to say, I could only look back at her as my mind searched for the missing memories that I still wasn’t sure I wanted back yet.

Grace sighed, breaking eye contact as she stared ahead, yet I could tell by her eyes that she was still inside her head. “Believe it or not, Y/N, you didn’t change much. The only thing you did was grow up, and so did Newt. Regardless of your memories, I doubt anything is going to change,” she sighed.

She patted my thigh twice before standing up. “I’m not sure about Matt, but I’m ready to get out of this place whenever you are. You know the risks, though. If you want Newt to get far enough away from here, you might have to get left behind for a little while.”

“I know,” I replied, my face stoic.

“You sure about this? If I’m taking Newt to safety, I can’t ensure yours while I’m gone.” Her stature was that of a soldier, but her face showed uncertainty. “I’m asking because I sure as hell know that Newt wouldn’t approve of this,” she paused. “And neither do I. But it’s your call.”

I sat up straight with my head held high. “You said it yourself, I go above and beyond to make sure he’s safe,” I sighed, giving her a small grin as I showed her the bracelet on my wrist, looking at it with fondness in my eyes. “I can handle myself, more so if I have the knowledge that he’s out of here.”

She firmly nodded, not saying anything before walking towards the door and moving to put her helmet on, but before she could, I spoke. “Wait…”

The girl stopped, turning to face me as she waited for me to continue speaking.

“W-were,” I stuttered, caressing the bracelet with my thumb, my eyes directed at Grace. “Before the Maze Trials...were Newt and I…” I trailed off, not knowing what the right words were.

I was sure I cared about Newt way before the Maze, but I had no clue if the feelings were beyond just friendship and if the feelings were reciprocated.

“Will my answer change the way you see him?” she raised, to which I immediately shook my head and replied with a no.

She smiled, “Then it doesn’t matter.” Grace put on her helmet after that, leaving the room, letting the door close behind her and leaving me with my thoughts.

“I know you only wanted to help me, but going into the Maze at night was so shucking stupid.”

I looked up at Newt, my hand laid on his chest, his left arm behind me as we laid next to each other inside the med-Jacks hut. His leg was broken in three different places, so it was propped up, the Med-Jacks telling him not to exert himself more than he already has. You know, like breaking a shucking door down…

“Well, I don’t regret a single thing.” I stood my ground as he looked down directly into my eyes, his brown ones firm and authoritative.

“As the now second-in-command, I won’t allow you to go in there again.”

My eyebrows furrowed in irritation. frustrated by the tone that he was using. I didn’t want an argument to ensue, so I kept my voice levelled as I replied. “And as someone who cares about you, I won’t allow you to tell me what to do when I’m only trying to help you.”

“Well, your way of trying to help me may have gotten you killed.” His voice was slightly raised now, opting to look at the ceiling instead of my eyes.

My gaze, on the other hand, never strayed away from him.

“You did the same thing and you weren’t even trying to help anyone,” I replied, tears clouding my vision as they fell on Newt’s shirt. The bitterness I felt couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Had I succeeded in taking my own life, you wouldn’t have gone in the Maze.” His voice was cold and unwavering.

“Had you succeeded in taking your own life, you would have taken away a piece of mine,” I sniffled, sitting up as I looked straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. “I know you’re hurting way more than you let on, and I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you won’t le—”

“I won’t let you because I don’t want you to feel like I’m burdening you—”

I slammed my hand on the bed that we were on as I spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to tell me what to feel!”

Still, I didn’t meet his eyes even though I could feel it burning a hole at the back of my head. More tears threatened to spill as I looked up, trying to keep them at bay. “You would know that if you could just get it into your thick skull that I’m hurting way more than I let on as well because the person I’m in love with just tried to kill himself.”

I choked back a sob as I felt the tears flow down my cheeks, Newt sitting up slowly without a single word. “You’ve been trying to protect me since we became friends, but you know by now that I can handle myself, more so with the knowledge that you’re alright.”

I felt a hand touch my shoulder, as another cupped my cheek.

Then, lips against mine.

After a second of processing what was going on, I closed my eyes and reciprocated the kiss. It was soft, it was genuine and it only lasted for a few moments before he pulled away from me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes looking into mine as our foreheads touched. “I’m not okay, and I don’t expect to be for a little while. But much like you, I feel better knowing that you’re alright, which is why I was so terrified that I could've lost you to the Maze after not speaking to you for an entire week,” he sniffled.

He pulled away slightly, running his thumb over my cheekbone. His eyes, though brimming with tears, were filled with stars. The emotions held within only made him more beautiful.

“I’m in love with you, too, if you can’t already tell,” he chuckled, sniffling as a few stray tears flowed down his cheeks. “And I promise that I’ll try my bloody best to get better so we can get out of here and I can take you out on a proper date somewhere that’s not surrounded by a deadly, monster-filled Maze,” he grinned, kissing my forehead as he pulled me to him, holding me tightly.

“And I promise not to go into the Maze,” I paused as I felt him sigh in relief. “Unless it’s completely necessary,” I added, hearing a groan from the boy.

“Well, I guess that’s better than nothing,” he chuckled as I felt his hold tighten a little. “Thank God for this broken leg.”

I was about to say something, but he spoke first.

“If I didn’t end up here then I wouldn’t have been able to tell you how I bloody felt.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “The only reason you did it was because I did it first!” I laughed. I felt his shoulder shake as he laughed as well, making my smile even wider.

“Damn, I can’t even take credit for finally getting the girl,” he replied. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could hear the smile on his face.

“You don’t have to. You've always had her,” I grinned.

#Begin Again #newt #newt x reader #newt imagine #newt angst #newt fluff #newt x reader angst #newt x reader fluff #the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #thomas #minho #gally #newt fanfic #newt x you #the glade #the scorch trials #the death cure

48 notes · View notes

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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