#i love the laundromat and also i dread going.

[spacelesscowboy]

close! i am actually the deep embarrassment of walking past a group of middle schoolers with a shopping cart full of freshly folded laundry. i am thursday mornings spent waiting to go home. i am dry hands and dry teeth and warm clothes that make my teeth rattle in my skull. i am the shame of being poor and the pride of doing what i can with what i have anyways. i am an empty space full of people who will never stay. i am the sunlight filtering through the clouds of smoke from the men who congregate outside to gossip. i am the decoy security cameras AND the real security cameras that were only installed a few years ago.

i do insist on using change though, you were right on the money with that one. and also i am frustration and anger and also horror at realizing the big machines are now $9 instead of the $4.50 they used to be.

if i was a place. i would be a laundromat.

[khjcs]

group: ateez

pairing: idol!hongjoong x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, oneshot

trope: lovers to strangers ? to lovers again *head scratch*

rating: 18+ MDNI <<< don’t make me block

word count: 6.3k

warning: angst, mild cussing, mention of death (no one dies or plans on it), argumentS (yes, plural), mention of cheating, pregnancy on two occasions (not reader), mention of an abusive partner (neither mc), if i missed any, please lmk

synopsis: an argument between you and your significant other leads you to ponder on whether the man you’re with is actually the one indicated for you.

song playlist recommendation: “west coast” “young and beautiful” “video games” “say yes to heaven” all by Lana Del Rey

a/n: i know for pairing i put “idol” hj but it’s only alluded that he is. there is no actual scene in which it shows he is an idol, just small mentions of it. don’t get your hopes up if that’s what you were looking for. also, this is, in NO WAY a depiction of the artist. think of this more of an au than a fanfic if it helps. i really hope you enjoy:)

special thanks to: @luvt0kki for proof reading🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 oh and my sister for putting me in such angsty mood (by playing lana del rey in the car), bringing this piece to life. but she’s not on tumblr and let’s keep it that way. oh and the rain outside for pushing me to post this. i swear the mixture of rain, a good playlist, and a comfortable bed is such a good cocktail for writing.

navigation ・❥・ masterlist

Waking up in the arms of your lover on a lazy Sunday morning was on of the best feelings ever. You cuddled your face deeper into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent as the morning sun began seeping through the white curtains of your room. “That tickles,” he let out a chuckle. “I’ve got to take advantage of you allowing this skin-ship,” you retorted, both of you just smiling, allowing yourselves to be engulfed in each other’s embrace. “We have to get up,” you grumbled while pulling the covers off of your body, the cold rushing in quickly, creating goosebumps on your skin. “I don’t want to. Let’s just sleep in today,” Hongjoong whined as he got up. “You’re already out of bed. Tell you what, after we finish cleaning, we can have ourselves a small movie marathon, yeah?” “With cuddles?” His eyes sparkled. “With cuddles,” you laughed at his hypocrisy of “hating”skin-ship. It had became a habit of his to spend the weekend at your place. On Sundays, you two would clean your entire apartment together just before Hongjoong had to go back to the dorms for work. This week, however, you both had been busy and only had Saturday night and Sunday to yourselves, making the cleaning all the more dreadful.

“I say, we just do the laundry,” Hongjoong was still trying to negotiate with you. Missing your boyfriend’s presence, you were quick to give in, “okay fine.” Both dressed in comfortable clothes, you grabbed your load and the sheets, making your way to his car. On the way to the laundromat, he received a call that happened to appear on his car screen to which he declined. The all too familiar number kept calling. “Just pick up,” you rolled your eyes as you answered the call on his screen. A woman’s voice was heard, “Joong, I think I’m in trouble,” she cried through the phone. Hongjoong glanced your way and back to the road, “I’ll have to call you later, I’m a bit preoccupied right now.” Your mood had turned sour in an instant, you knew in a few seconds he’d be running to her rescue. “Love—“ “I know, you have to go to her,” you cut him off as he arrived at the laundromat. “I shouldn’t take long,” he got off to help you carry the load inside. “See you in a bit, okay? I love you.” You didn’t reply, you couldn’t. I mean, how could you? Your boyfriend of almost three years was still running behind his so called “best friend” when she needed him. “Love, please don’t be mad, it might be serious.” He tried soothing you, but you were too angry with him. “Serious? Hongjoong, I’ve seen you drop everything for that woman. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you practically ran out of your studio when she called. But Lord forbid I need you while you’re at work. I called you to hang out Friday afternoon and all I got was a sad excuse of how you’re stuck at work. And I get it, maybe you needed to get your creativity out onto a piece of paper and get it started. See, I kept thinking that to myself, making excuses for you. I thought you and I were in a relationship, not you and her.” You began walking off, trying to not cause an even bigger scene in public. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that. Please love,” he reached out for your hand. “Please what? You want me to be understanding of the situation? Because trust me, I have tried these past two, almost three years. Even before we started dating. I just can’t anymore,” you half whispered the last part. “What?” “I can’t anymore Hongjoong,” you spoke up this time, “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to be second to no one in your heart.” “But you’re not,” he held both your hands. “Oh but I am,” you pulled your hands away, busying them with the load that you were to wash. “Look, I have to go. We’ll talk about this at your place later.” “No. I’ll just finish cleaning on my own. Just go straight to the dorms afterwards. I’m not counting on you to come back.” You waited for him to fight for you in any way. You begged inside of you for him to understand you and stay. But of course, like a fool, you sat there waiting for your clothes to wash after seeing his car drive off. All of this ripping away the feeling you had not even 2 hours ago.

With a heavy heart, you finished cleaning the rest of your apartment. You had cried as you folded his clothes neatly, placing them in the drawer you had cleared out for him. Everyone had warned you about this. At the time, you were so naive, seeing him only through pink glasses, wanting so desperately to feel loved, which you did. He had made you feel so important when he worried about your wellbeing, sending you money so you could buy yourself whatever it was you needed. He had always checked up on you when you were sick, even calling days off to go and personally take care of you. All of this making you think that you were the one he loved, so it didn’t matter if every now and then he ran off to help his best friend, given their history. You couldn’t blame him for your obliviousness when he had been so honest with you from the start about their friendship. “She lived in my neighborhood so we would play a lot when we were younger but only gotten closer at age 14 when we started walking home from school together. She opened up to me a few years later when her parents were having a messy divorce. She really just needed a shoulder to cry on, and I was there to provide comfort. I see her more as a younger sister than anything, I promise you have nothing to worry about.” You laughed at yourself remembering his words seeing as he’s with her right now instead of with you.

You plopped yourself on your couch, in front of the television, eating a spoonful of ice cream to help with the sadness. The doorbell rang, making you jump. You reached out for your phone, wiping your tears away, to check the time. It was already past 8:00 pm, with no messages on your notifications; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone at this time. “Love, please open the door,” your heart clenched. You quietly rushed to turn off the TV, making your apartment pitch black. “Don’t pretend you’re not here, I saw the light of the TV turn off.” You curled yourself back into a ball on your couch. He had the pin to your apartment door, so why didn’t he just come in? If he really wanted to come inside to talk, he would have, but he never came in on his own. You waited until he left, which only sadden you even more. Only realizing now that he wasn’t fighting for you, for your love, or your relationship, making you conclude that he doesn’t love you the way he claims. The way you loved him. That if it came down to it, you were ready to lay your life for him, but was he willing to do the same? This only saddened you more. You reached out for your phone to call him, but the longer you stared at his contact, the more you thought about how he chose to leave instead of staying to talk things out.

You no longer had the energy to deal with this. Even if your heart ached, you knew you had to end it with him, for your sake. The thought making you feel stuffy; you planned for a late night run to help you muster up the courage to end the relationship. Making your way out of your apartment, you stumbled upon something, or more like someone. It was too dark to make out who it was. Afraid to take a step closer, you waved your hand in front of the motion censor light. With it illuminating right outside your door, you were finally able to see. Noticing a sleeping Hongjoong, your eyes soften as you reach out for him, “wake up.” You shook him, but he didn’t budge. “Hongjoong,” you shook him again abruptly, waking him up. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he stood up, unaware of his surroundings, that is until he saw you, “please, can we talk?” “Let’s just talk tomorrow,” you sighed. “Can you drive? Do you need me to call your manager? A taxi?” You pulled out your phone. “No,” he placed his hand over yours to stop you from calling whoever it was, “I just really want to talk. I want to fix this.” Hesitating a bit, you decided to let him into the apartment, figuring you should hear what he had to say. After all, he did wait outside for you when you thought he wasn’t willing to fight for your relationship.

You two settled down on the couch after you fetched him some water. “I really am sorry. I realize now how you must be feeling with all of this. I’m sorry I made you feel like you were second to her.” “Then why do you still go running after her? Why do you prioritize her so much? Her parents’ shitty ass divorce happened years ago. She doesn’t need to be coddled anymore! She has a boyfriend for fucks sake, why does she have to go out looking for you?” You got up the couch. “Love, it’s not that simple! I wish I could explain it all to you, but that would be an invasion of her privacy!” “Bullshit Hongjoong! This is all complete and utter bull shit! Why are you so fixated on her and her needs? What about mine? What about when I need my boyfriend here? To come coddle me?” “Really? When have you ever needed coddling? Every time you feel down, you push me away! You want to be independent so bad! Maybe you should be!” “What?” Afraid of where this was leading, your eyes began to tear up. “Maybe we should break up…” he looked down at the floor. “No! You don’t get to break up with me over this! I do! I’ve put up with your bullshit friendship with that woman, so I get to do this! I am the one breaking up with you! I’m the one letting you go!” You abusively stabbed your chest with your index finger as your eyes let loose of the tears. Ironically, his phone began ringing. He took one quick glance at it before putting it back inside his pocket. “For fuck’s sake, just fucking go to her already! Run to her as you so desperately want to!” He just looked at you with a sad expression. “Just be honest with me,” you looked at him with pleading eyes, “do you love her?” You were honestly afraid of his answer. “I do, but—“ you cut him off after getting the answer you expected of him, but expecting it didn’t make you hurt any less. “Get out! Just fucking get out Hongjoong! I don’t ever want to see you again!” You threw the water bottle at him as he made his way out. He knew you like the back of his palm. He knew he fucked up and that no explanation, not that he could give you one, would help you two recover from this. So he did the only thing he could do that night: to disappear from your life as much as he could.

As much as it pained him, he found himself in his car driving off to his friend’s. You couldn’t possibly fathom what had happened that night, or why he had to urgently leave. But he had no one to blame except himself for always running away from you when his friend needed him. Hitting the steering wheel as he drove, angry at himself for letting the best thing he’s ever had go. “Fuck!” he screamed into the silence of his car, coming to a complete stop when he approached a red light. Resting his hands on the steering wheel, followed by his head. He couldn’t comprehend why his heart hurt so much that he wished to rip it out of his chest. The tears that flowed down his face a burning sensation. He wanted to give up completely in that moment. To just turn back time to where the two of you were still in the warmth of your bedsheets, wishing he hadn’t woken up. All this felt surreal, to go from being in his happy place with you to living a nightmare of having to steer clear from you. Even if he moved across the world, the distance wouldn’t be enough. He’d still want to run back into your arms and make everything alright. A car honked behind him as the light had turned green, he wiped his tears along with his runny nose before he proceeded to drive.

Stepping onto his friend’s doorstep, he knocked on the door. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you okay?” She reached out to cup his face but Hongjoong shooed her hand away. “I only came to tell you to not call me ever again. I’m done.” Hongjoong walked away. “Wait! I can’t raise this kid alone! Please Joong!” She hugged him from the back. “You can and you will. You’ll be fine. And stop calling me that, we’re not in a relationship for you to be calling me by my nickname.” He undid her grip from his waist and left her standing on her doorstep. Even though he wanted to run to you and tell you he completely cut his friend from his life, he knew he couldn’t. Nothing would make you take him back after he hurt you so badly. All he could do now was drive back to the dorms.

Meanwhile, you were a mess. It had only been a few minutes since he left but you could only assume he went rushing into her inviting arms. That he was happy while you were miserable on your bed. It was already past midnight when you felt a migraine creeping in, knowing you’d have to call in for work in a few hours, you decided to put on another movie. The migraine, however, won and made you fall asleep in the middle of the movie. The only thing that woke you up the next day was your coworker who had worriedly called your phone about 100 times, that being an exaggeration of your own. “Hey babes, are you okay? You didn’t come in today, did something happen? Did you and Hongjoong fight?” A stinging sensation arose in you as you heard his name. Your burning eyes couldn’t produce any more tears, as if you were dried out of your liquids. “Uh, no, I’m just feeling sick today. I should be feeling better by tomorrow,” you lied. “Okay, if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming over.” You let out a forceful chuckle, “okay,” and hung up the phone. Forgetting to close your curtains last night, the sun, brighter than most mornings, illuminated your room. You took this as a sign to get up and do something productive around your house. You sighed when you walked around remembering that you had just finished cleaning it yesterday, instead you went into your closet with a gym bag. You began packing every little thing Hongjoong had left behind in your apartment, down to his toothbrush. You decided it was time to take this step since you were serious about not seeing him again. It started off with you folding his clothes neatly into the bag, but as you came across the clothes you gifted him, you began just throwing the clothes in there. The room only became suffocating the longer you stayed in there to pack his belongings. Taking a break from it all, you went to the kitchen, preparing a small snack with water to replenish from your dehydration. You sat on the small dining table, that’s when you took notice of your picture frames displayed around your apartment. Most of them were pictures of you and your now ex. You just couldn’t get a break from all of this so you made it your mission to finish packing by today. After your very needed break, you grabbed all of your pictures, throwing them [carefully] in the bag. Only keeping your favorite one hidden in your closet, the pain of discarding it encouraging you to do so. What you initially thought would be one bag, quickly turned into four. This shocked you as you hadn’t noticed how deeply rooted he was in your life.

The ache in your heart only grew bigger when you saw the building to his dorms appearing bigger in your sight. You were too much of a coward to confront him at work, so you decided to drop off the bags at the dorms, knowing well he wouldn’t be there. As you stepped out of the elevator, his roommate emerged from their dorm, flashing you a big smile as he recognized you. “Hey Y/N,” the man you knew as Wooyoung waved to you. You forced a smile back with a wave. “Awe man, you just missed Hongjoong. He went to work really early this morning. Something about needing to write down lyrics for a tune he came up with last night.” He looked down to the bags you had placed by your feet, “is that for him?” “Uh, yes. Do you mind putting it inside?” You picked them up, walking closer to him. “Yeah, no problem,” he walked to you to help you carry the bags, taking all four from you. “I have to go now,” you smiled and turned around. “See you soon,” you stopped in your tracks his words catching you off-guard, “yeah, see you…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say ‘soon’ knowing fully well it was a lie. The taxi ride back home was all too quiet, but as it turns out, it was all you needed. You felt like you could breathe again now that you got some closure. What you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the closure you needed.

Once inside your apartment, you were determined to fill the void that he left behind. Now that you no longer needed the drawer, you contemplated whether to throw it out or to store it. Your heart not fully being able to take in the pain of you two being over, you decided that the latter was less painful. As you moved the furniture out to the living room, the doorbell rang. Cautiously, you made your way to the door, hoping it wasn’t him coming to grovel again. “Babes, open up. You haven’t answered your calls and I’m only growing worried for you. Talk to me, yeah?” Relieved to hear your friend’s voice through the door, you opened the door for her. Strangely, your emotions overcame you when you saw her and you fell to the floor, a crying mess. No longer being able to contain your sobs along with tears that appeared out of nowhere. “Oh sweetie,” your friend joined you on the floor, hugging your body, trying her best to provide you with comfort. She could tell something was really wrong with the way you have never showed any sign of “weakness” in front of her. “I fucking loved him so much, why am I the one who gets betrayed this way? Was I never good enough for him? Or was I just too blind to see he was never going to choose me over her?” “No sweetie, don’t blame yourself. Don’t beat yourself up over this. He is the blind one for choosing her countless of times when he had a treasure in front of him. Trust me babes, he’ll regret his decisions one day. It’ll come back to haunt him when he least expects it.” She helped your zombie-like state off the floor. “Have you ate?” She sat you down at your dinner table when you shook your head. “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” She looked through your fridge, taking a few ingredients out to whip up something for you. You thanked the universe for sending you an angel like your friend. She had been there when you needed her the most, helping you recover from your heartbreak. You felt indebted with her for life. Jokingly, you told her you’d be her first-born’s god-mother. Funny how the universe works, the face on your friend’s face only shocking you, “how did you know?” She looked back to you. “What? What are you talking about?” Trying to understand what she meant, you looked at her. Only when your eyes fell on her hand that was on her lower stomach did you realize what she was trying to tell you. “I came here to tell you, but you took me by surprise with your situation. I didn’t want to make this about me.” Running to her, you went to hug her, crying once again, “I’m so happy for you.”

Time passed you by so fast. Suddenly you were attending the baby shower you had planned for your friend. As you walked through the venue, checking with the guests to make sure they were comfortable, making sure they didn’t need anything, your friends approached you. “Hey, you look good,” one of your friends mentioned. “Thank you. You do as well,” you complimented back with a smile. “Sorry to bring this up, but you are okay now, right?” Your other friend asked. You knew she was only concerned about you, but you couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t brought it up just as you felt like you were finally healing from the pain that Hongjoong left you with. “Yeah, I’m doing so much better now.” “I’m here whenever you’re ready,” their mutual guy friend added. He had been trying to get with you the moment your friends introduced him to you. You were thankful to your friends for trying to put you out there, frankly, you weren’t ready for that yet. You let out a playful laugh, “you’ll be the first to know when I’m ready,” you half meant it. You considered to give him a chance once you were ready to get back out there. He was a good guy with you, much different than him… He made sure to go at your pace. He wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable around him. Leading to him often waiting for you to initiate any contact, but you never really did. You didn’t want to lead him on unless you were sure of your feelings. You managed to slip away from your friends and went to the bar that your celebrated friend insisted on having. Her excuse to you was that, “just because I can’t drink doesn’t mean the rest can’t. Just add it for them. For you. You never know, you just might need a drink or two.” She just so happened to be right. Your energy depleted, you felt the need to get a drink. Right as you received your drink, your heart dropped lower than the pit of your stomach as you caught a glimpse of a man who looked a little too much like him. In a discreetly manner, you followed him, only to be even more disheartened. It truly was him, and he was with her, except now she had a huge belly, had to be nearing birth. Leaving your heart a reopened wound. Out of all things you could have imagined, the idea of him cheating never crossed your mind until now. You gave him too much credit because even seeing them in front of you, looking at each other so fondly, you still couldn’t help but make excuses. Maybe he didn’t cheat. Maybe he only got with her after he lost you. There was no way that what he felt for you was never real. Except you have all the proof you needed right in front of you. With that, again, you felt a single teardrop fall onto your cheek. Still staring at them both, finally noticing when Hongjoong turned around to see you, making eye contact with you. He was the first to break it by walking away only after whispering something into the woman’s ear. You knew you were the one who told him you didn’t want to see him anymore, but you wanted an explanation of what you had just witnessed, so you followed.

It wasn’t that he tried fleeing away from you, willingly, at least. He only wanted to ensure he kept his promise of staying away from you, as per your request. He wanted to stay so bad, to go up to you and hold you again as he used to 9 moths ago, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew that his presence alone would only taunt you, more-so that he was accompanied by his friend. He mentally cursed himself as he made his way to the parking lot, beating himself up remembering your expression, he knew he had hurt you once again. He had told himself he wouldn’t contact you first, even if he was so close a couple of times. Only until you contacted him first would he talk to you. Not for petty reasons, nothing like that, but instead to allow you the space you needed. Even if it meant you would never contact him. A sudden thought popped up in his head. Without a second wasted, he went against all he promised himself and went running back inside the building. He needed to clear something up.

You had walked around the whole building before giving up when you couldn’t find him. You leaned on the hallway outside of the venue, catching your breath. The feeling you were feeling right now contradicting what you had previously told your friends. You clenched your chest, trying to keep your composure to go back into the party. You made your way back inside the venue, but your heart and legs had another idea, pulling you away from the venue. Speed walking towards the entrance of the building only stopping when you saw Hongjoong running inside. You both paused, locking your eyes with each other. Everything about that moment felt like a movie, down to the way that time seemed to slow down. You approached each other slowly, neither daring to break the silence, that is until you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. “Why are you here? I didn’t add you to the list of invitees.” You hadn’t meant to be harsh, but you only had one thing that you wanted to really say. Instead of beating around the bush, “congrats by the way. On the baby that is.” Hongjoong shook his head, “it’s not mine. That’s why I came back inside looking for you. To clear that up.” He walked closer to you, keeping his eyes on you attentively, making sure to not scare you away. “I figured that’s what you thought when you saw me. Your expression gave it away,” he stopped mere feet away from you. “I’m ready to tell you everything. The reason I kept going to her. Personal matters and all. No more keeping stuff from you. Of course, only if you’re willing to hear me. But not here, I don’t want to cause a scene at your friend’s party. And to answer your question, she was the one who invited me.” Hesitant at first, you saw the fondness in his eyes, which is why you followed him to his car, making your way to his dorm. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, instead you settled for staring out the window. “You do realize you left her at the party, right?” You rested your head on the window, still looking outside of it as it began raining. He sighed, “I’m sure she’ll find a way back home.” His response shocked you, making you sit up in your seat. “Don’t be too shocked,” an inaudible chuckle left his throat, “she’s really not my top priority.” He quickly glanced at you and your expression before driving into the parking garage.

Sitting on the couch across from you, he cleared his throat, forcing you to face him, “can I just start off by saying I’m sorry,” he looked dejected. “I truly have been miserable without you, I hope you believe me.” ”Even if I do believe you, that doesn’t change the fact that you ran after her countless of times while being with me.” “I know,” he sighed, bringing himself closer to the edge of the couch. “I know this isn’t much of a rational excuse, but you have to understand, in the moment I felt that I had to.” You let out an exasperated laugh, “you had to?” “Yes… her boyfriend was very abusive. The night you and I argued, she had called me crying because she had found out she was carrying his child. Not wanting her kid to meet the same fate as her, she decided to leave her house, to stop the cycle before it became more serious. But she was too afraid to take that step on her own. She needed a push, and a place to stay at in the meantime. I helped her pack all of her things that day and took her to one of her friend’s house. Both me and her friend encouraged her to report him to the police, though, they didn’t help much, we were able to put a restraining order on her boyfriend that same day.” “If you had settled everything that day, then why did she call you again at night?” You hadn’t noticed the tears that rolled down your face until Hongjoong sat next to you, wiping them away gently with his thumb. “She was afraid of the idea of raising a child alone. She had thought she wasn’t strong enough for that yet.” “So she called you to co-parent with her? Ha, I knew it,” you fidgeted with your fingers, looking away to hold back the rest of the tears that threatened to fall. “No—On the contrary, she wanted me to talk her out of giving up on her baby. She’s dating the friend that took her in. He’s a real good father figure already and the baby isn’t born yet. Y/N, please look at me…” it came off not as a demand, but a plea. He held your chin to make you face him. “Me and her are nothing more than friends, I mean it.” “What about when I asked you if you loved her? You told me you loved her…” Your voice now wavering. “Is that why you came with her today?” “I—“ he sighed, “I meant it. I do love her. But I’m not in love with her. I only came with her because I owed her an apology for ending my friendship with her the way I did that night.” A silence overcame you both momentarily, “I’m sorry,” your voice barely audible. “I feel like a fool for not trusting you.” “Don’t apologize. I know I didn’t help by keeping all those secrets when I shouldn’t have. I know now that there shouldn’t be any secrets between us…” he hadn’t used that word in so long, yet it felt right and wrong at the same time. He didn’t know if there was still an “us” to claim. To him, you wouldn’t accept him back, all he could hope for is for you to accept his apology.

You threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly at his words. You so badly wanted him back and the fact that he referred to you both as “us” was the perfect indication that he wanted the same. Or so you assumed. You took his face in your hands, looking into his eyes, searching within them the answer to your assumption. His soft gaze encouraged you to kiss him. He placed his hands on your shoulders stopping you right after you tried to deepen the kiss. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Hongjoong pushed himself off of you. “Why? Why can’t you?” You looked for an answer in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” his head hung low. “You can’t hurt me any more than you did 9 months ago. You sat up on the couch. “I want you Hongjoong. No, I need you,” you stood up, slowly undoing the zipper on the dress you were wearing. “Please, not here. Not like this…” he rushed you two to his dorm before your dress could fall to the floor.

His room still being filled with pictures of you two, pictures that held beautiful memories. “You still have them” you held a picture frame of you two, one you had packed in the bag you returned to him. “Of course,” he approached you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waits, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck to your now exposed shoulder. This brought tears to your eyes. He really does love you the way you loved and still love him. “You were the best thing that has happened to me.” You leaned your head to the side, giving him more access. Holding the back of his head with your right hand, closing your eyes, taking in the moment. Hongjoong helped you walk towards his bed, never detaching himself from you, not wanting you to slip from his grasp once again. Swiftly turning you around, he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling down before you, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “I need you to stop me if this isn’t what you want. Because this is what I want. I want a future with you. I want more than just forever with you. If we take this step, just know I’m not letting you go again. I will fight to the death for you.” You nodded, “this is what I want Joongie.” He quickly attached himself onto you, the kiss being very needy. With a hand to the back of your head, he urged you lie down on his bed. Treating you the entire time as if you were a fragile object. His left hand roaming down your side, reaching your panties, gently assisting you out of them. For each piece of clothing he took off from you, you helped him out of one of his too. Lying fully exposed on his bed, you waited as he grabbed a condom from his drawer. He slid the condom on, fixing himself back on top of you. “It’s not too late to back out love,” the latter word brining you such bliss, you pulled him into another kiss. “I wouldn’t back out for the world.” He nudged at your entrance, entering you painfully slow, allowing you to get used to the sudden stretch. You gasped when he was fully inside you. His movements were slow, causing a small sting on your heat. “Let me know if you feel even the slightest discomfort love.” He moved a bit faster, taking a few moments to kiss you ever so passionately. Never once detaching your hands from him, that is until you saw the sweat forming on his forehead. You helped him into a new position that allowed you to ride him. You planted your hands on his chest as you moved your hips up and down. The new position aiding him to be deeper in you, bringing you to loll your head back with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling all too much. “My beautiful lady,” he reached out for one of your hands, bringing it closer to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss, “I love you.” At his confession, you slowed down, fluttering your eyes open as you brought yourself to face him again. “I love you Joongie,” you intertwined your fingers with his as you made your way down to kiss him. He let go of your hands only to fully embrace you, deepening the kiss once more. He reached for your hips to help you move against him, brining you both close to your high. You were the first to reach your orgasm, brining you almost to a complete stop. His hands, still on your hips, assisted your movements once again, allowing him to chase after his.

You laid next to him, both your chests heaving. Hongjoong went into the bathroom, coming back with a small wet cloth. He placed it at your heat, letting you warm up to it so he could wipe you clean. After cleaning himself up too, he lied down next to you, taking you into his embrace. You smiled at the man, overjoyed that you were in his arms again. “You should consider yourself lucky. You’re the only one I like to have skin-ship with.” The room was filled with your laughter. Happiness spread across both your faces now that you were back together. “I have something for you,” he left the room for a few seconds. “I made this thinking of you,” he settled down next to you again, giving you the usb in his hands. “Untitled (choose you)” was written on a piece of tape that was attached to it. He had composed a beautiful song describing how he felt for you. It was, if not, the best gift you had ever received. Well, a close second. The universe gifting him back to you was your first best gift.

[sohypothetically]

Writing Patterns - Opening Lines

I was tagged by @katnissdoesnotfollowback and @pookieh thank you both!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I think I know my pattern already, but let's see if it's true. The order I'm looking at is the published order on FF.net. I'm also going to include originals because I'm curious if the pattern holds.

And what did I learn? The last time I did this, I was all dialogue. I like that I'm branching out a bit and it's a mix of dialogue, description, and action. Maybe I'm growing! (The publishing order here is: Originals, Snow Day, Love Letters, The Lake House. Everything else was written before 2017.)

Snow Day

“Are you sure she’ll come today? Weather’s nasty. Doubt anyone will be out.”

Love Letters

Dear Thom, We're writing letters to service men as part of a project for the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

The Lake House

The first time is an accident. 

Kindergarten

"Katniss!" Peeta's voice held a note of utter panic as it drifted up to her from the first floor.

Welcome to Sr. Fromage's!

"Ah, there you are!" A woman with bright pink lipstick and glitter mascara greets me in the game area. 

The Talk

Effie Trinket nimbly maneuvers her way through the colorful Capitol crowd.

Laundry

This is much better, Madge thought, pushing through the doors of the all-night Laundromat down the street from her apartment..  

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Gale Hawthorne was almost past the door to the gym, working on auto-pilot, when he heard it.  

Honky Tonk

"This is a bad idea." Katniss Everdeen eyes the outside of Haymitch's Honky Tonk and Tavern with equal parts dread and disgust.

Raked Leaves

Peeta Mellark loves fall: the crisp, burnt smell in the air, the colors bursting on the trees before the leaves fall slowly to earth, the taste of pumpkin and apples and cranberries.  

Originals:

Worth The Wait -- “Will someone check her makeup?” A strikingly handsome man—he’d introduced himself as Steve without making eye contact—asks loudly, with obvious annoyance.

Game On! -- “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I stop short, tugging on my roommate’s hand. “‘Mai, you didn’t tell me they’d be here.” 

The Ring -- My hands throb.

Two Princes -- Tick. Tick. Tick.

Love and Latkes -- I stopped for a minute outside the pharmacy that was part of my routine.

Please participate, even if you don't have 10! It's really neat to see who has a certain style when they write and over the course of how long.

Tagging the following and anyone else who would like to play! @norbertsmom, @mollywog, @mega-aulover, @littlerosette, @katnissmellarkkk, @shesasurvivor, @hutchabelle, @isarnicole, @albinokittens300, @bodyelectric77

[lurkingshan]

If you could rant about one thing in BL, what would it be? (This could be either a complaint or a soapbox)

Thank you for the invitation to climb on my soapbox, I love it up here. Something that’s been on my mind recently is bl second seasons, so I will take this opportunity to talk about why I both anticipate and dread them in equal measure, and what makes for a strong second season in a romance narrative. I would apologize for this being so long but it's you, Emperor of the Long Post, so I don't even feel bad.

First of all, let me just say that part of the reason I love Asian dramas in the first place is because they don’t have multiple seasons. Unlike American TV, you don’t have to invest literal years in a show only to have it blow up in your face when it (nearly always) goes off the rails for one reason or another. The vast majority of Asian dramas are one and done–they tell a complete story in one limited run, and afterwards you just get to move on to the next story. As a result they tend to have a higher hit rate because they’re not trying to stretch their story beyond its limits to keep it going and going, and even when they fail you only spent a few days or weeks on it so it doesn’t feel like you wasted a lot of time. There are a few exceptions of course (lately kdramas on Netflix have started splitting into two “seasons” that are really just one standard kdrama episode count split in two and airing a few months apart–high key annoying IMO), but by and large that’s how it goes. 

So the bl genre’s propensity for second seasons already goes a bit against the grain of what I love about dramas, and add to that the very nature of bls—they are romances, which typically end at the point that the romantic conflict has been addressed and the characters decide to stay together. So in general, I am primed to be suspicious of second seasons in this genre. Many second seasons are clearly driven by capitalism more than anything else–the pairing is popular and so the production company is looking to cash in while their commodity is hot, and whether or not they actually have any more story to tell is a secondary concern. So my first questions when approaching a second season is why was this made and what is it trying to accomplish? 

I think there are a few buckets here:

Continuing the narrative season 2s: These are the shows where the story was not complete at the end of season 1, and season 2 is actually necessary to provide some resolution. Love Sick 2 and Make it Right 2 are prime examples; those narratives were incomplete after the first season and season 2 finished them. What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2 also falls in this category but for a different reason: it’s a slice of life show and the narrative never really ends. They could make 10 seasons of that show and it would make perfect sense (not that I am begging or anything).

Cash grab season 2s: These are the ones with little or no real narrative purpose. They’re more like long specials, and their purpose is primarily to provide additional fluff for the audience while they sell products (including the actors, they are also products here). Cutie Pie 2 You, Still 2gether, TharnType 2 are all good examples of this. Now I am not saying these shows are inherently worthless–they gave Aof the reins for 2SG, for instance, and he managed to make something of it and even repair some damage from the first season–but they are definitely inessential. 

What happens after the HEA season 2s: My favorite kind, these are the ones that move into the next phase of the romance, once the characters have decided to be together, and take a look at what their relationship would actually be like. Their purpose is to deepen the relationship and character development and examine the types of conflicts that would naturally come up between the two personalities. Gameboys 2, I Promised You the Moon, Minato’s Laundromat 2, SOTUS: S, Together With Me: The Next Chapter, To My Star 2, and Utsukushii Kare 2 all fall under this category. Some of these are more successful than others, which I will unpack below. 

Something like Our Skyy and Our Skyy 2 runs the gamut between these three types, with each installment fitting into different categories. The Eclipse OS2 is a great example of category 3, whereas My School President OS2 is more of a category 2, and you could make a case that SOTUS OS is really a category 1, since it puts a nice cap on the narrative of that whole series.

So, with that said, what I actually want to talk about is category 3, because these are the shows I am most interested in and where the decisions made in the writing are most crucial. Because this type of second season has real potential to either strengthen or damage the couple and how we see their relationship. The best second seasons of this type build on the established characteristics of the characters and take us through some natural conflicts that would arise as they continue their relationship. For instance, in Gameboys 2 we see Cairo and Gavreel spend prolonged time together in person for the first time after maintaining a long distance relationship and work through what physical intimacy looks like for them as well as how they intend to keep their relationship strong despite distance. I Promised You the Moon, SOTUS: S, To My Star 2, and Utsukushii Kare 2 all build on their characters’ well-established flaws from the first season to explore how that would manifest in conflict as these relationships continue and offer plausible scenarios for how the couples might make it through those issues (and it ain’t always pretty!). All of these are very successful second seasons, because they build naturally from what came before and directly address the doubts we had when those shows first ended about whether the couple can actually make it long-term.

Where this type of second season goes really wrong is when the writing violates character or the established patterns of the relationship in order to create conflict. In Together With Me: The Next Chapter, the show uses cheating as a plot device, having Korn cheat on Knock in a one-off hookup with a shitty villain character, and to add insult to injury, they juxtaposed it against Knock finally coming out in a poor attempt at dramatic irony. The reason this sucked was not just because it hurt our feelings; it sucked because that behavior was contra everything we knew about Korn, his devotion to Knock, and his well-established patience with Knock’s internalized homophobia. Now, don’t get it twisted: I do not believe cheating is an inherently bad plot device. It was actually used very well in I Promised You the Moon, a decision I will defend to the death (in fact, you can tune in to the conversation pod in a couple weeks to hear me do just that!). But its use in TWM:TNC did not make sense for the characters, and thus rather than deepening their relationship development, it irreparably harmed it. 

Another way a second season of this type can go wrong is when the writing is not committed to the narrative or leans too hard on first season nostalgia rather than dealing with the current iteration of the characters. Minato’s Laundromat 2 just did both of these things, which was especially frustrating because for nine weeks it was on track to be a very successful version of this type.The show started out tracking the painstaking and slow process of Minato dealing with his internalized homophobia and becoming a decent partner to Shin, but for reasons I can only speculate about, the show balked in the final act, backing away from finishing its narrative in favor of an amnesia plot and several episodes of first season nostalgia bait, ending with a happy resolution that felt wholly unearned and thus deeply unsatisfying. This was especially infuriating because the show got us invested in the growth arc before failing to complete it.  

So what is my point here? Second seasons can be very worthwhile, but only if there is a clear vision for what the story wants to explore about the relationship that is rooted in what we already know about the characters. There are rumors about other second seasons coming our way from shows like Big Dragon, Blueming, and The Eighth Sense, some of which have more potential to add to the original story than others (T8S is particularly primed for a solid second season IMO, because it left so much character development and natural conflict for the next stage of the relationship on the table). But regardless of where they decide to go with the plot of these additional seasons, the thing that will be most crucial is whether they keep fidelity to who the characters are and how their relationships work. That is how you successfully build from an origin romance in a way that feels meaningful and worthwhile.

[themculibrary]

Avengers Doing Every Day Things Masterlist

And the Mountains Said I Could Find You Here (ao3) - coffeejunkii clint/phil E, 4k

Summary: On a rainy fall evening, Phil asks to crash in Clint's room for the night. Which shouldn't be a big deal, but is the exact request Clint has been dreading since they started dating.

An Exercise in Tactical Routes (ao3) - TheLocket steve/sam T, 3k

Summary: Steve decides to go for a run. But he finds himself deviating from his normal route in order to totally-not-stalk one very attractive stranger.

Be Prepared and Bring Extra Change (ao3) - drabbleandfluff clint/phil G, 3k

Summary: Clint's just trying to do his laundry (quietly and under the radar), when a man walks into the Laundromat... and heh. Isn't this how it always starts? Clint's still waiting for the punchline...

even if it's salty (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve cooks. Tony cooks too. Mostly he burns them but well, he tries.

Five Points of the Star (ao3) - TheRedMenace steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: The shield. Sketching. Cooking. Clothing. Touch. Five ways Steve Rogers finds his place in the modern age.

Holding Out For a Hero (ao3) - jumpfall jane/thor G, 3k

Summary: Not every situation calls for a full assembling of the Avengers. Some things call for minor, everyday heroes. Like grocery shopping, and sprained ankles.

It Keeps You Healthy, But At What Cost? (ao3) - ilostmyshoe steve/sam T, 1k

Summary: Sometimes, Sam goes running without Steve.

Technically, Sam goes running without Steve fairly often: he tries to run at least a couple of miles every day, and he misses enough days due to his own obligations. If he also skipped every day Steve was busy, he’d be lucky just to get in a day or two each week—not nearly enough to keep his all-too-human body in fighting shape.

But there are days—not often, but every month or two—when Steve is available and uninjured and ready to go, and Sam still asks to run alone.

Just Your Average Avengers Movie Night (ao3) - surprisinglyokaytea steve/bucky, clint/natasha G, 661

Summary: Bucky, Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Sam all watch a movie together. The whole cuddling thing happens.

Leftovers Have A Habit of Sneaking Up On You (ao3) - w0lf0fshad0w bruce/tony G, 862

Summary: Someone has to be the one that starts cleaning up, Bruce just wishes it wasn't always him.

Luck and Love in the New Year (ao3) - NachoDiablo steve/sam T, 3k

Summary: Steve gets domestic while preparing for the new year, with perfect results... eventually.

Make You Clean (ao3) - TheRaven steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: After a particularly draining mission, Steve decides that Bucky needs a good, long bath.

The Avengers go grocery shopping (ao3) - Penny4yourThoughts G, 2k

Summary: Tony woke up to find the common room in a distressing state.... The kitchen is out of food so it is now up to the Avengers to go... Grocery shopping?

The One Where Thor Goes to Trader Joe's (ao3) - DJ_unicornsrgr8 G, 1k

Summary: A Thor interlude!

Thor goes grocery shopping, very much under the impression that every employee who works at Trader Joe's is called Joe. Peter has given up on correcting him.

There's No Such a Thing as Avengers' Movie Night (ao3) - Katbelle pepper/tony, peggy/steve, bruce/betty T, 3k

Summary: There's no such a things as Avengers' movie night. They do, however, watch movies together every Friday. And sometimes they cry, when a movie hits too close to all the repressed feelings they have. But it's all in the name of science and team-building exercises, really.

[fabrickind]

Hello there!

(babe you can't publish this ask and NOT expect me to chime in) (also silencedrowns is my actual irl partner. like, we live together. I'm not just using "babe" to be overly familiar lmao)

This won't work for everyone, but it works for me, even with working full time and battling chronic illness:

Schedule blocks of time. Even if you just set aside 10 minutes to organize the fabric for a project or to sew one seam, it's SOMETHING. Having scheduled time will also help you get back into the habit of it rather than it being a nebulous thing you can do whenever.

Carve out time where you can. Do you take public transit to work? Hand sewing time! Have to sit through a painful Zoom meeting or a boring class? Embroidery! Sitting in the laundromat? Waiting for your movie to start or for your MMO raid time? Can you think of other small bits of time you can squeeze some work into?

Set rewards. Small and tangible rewards. Don't let yourself do or get the thing without doing your goal first. This could be literally anything, and you can work your way up -- get a nice coffee drink once you cut the fabric or style the wig. Treat yourself to a day at the aquarium or whatever once you finish the whole costume. I like to buy myself boba after a shoot as a treat, and sometimes I'll do things like "if I finish this costume/this tutorial/these three photoshoots/etc. I can buy that video game I wanted/CD I wanted/other minor thing that I don't NEED and wouldn't normally buy but would love to have" and group it together for a bigger reward. I'll also sometimes tie it back to cosplay -- usually photography equipment as a reward haha

Bounce to something else. If you have another project going at the same time, great! Go work on that when you get frustrated with one project. Maybe even set up smaller, simpler projects specifically as these filler projects, so you know it'll be something you enjoy working on. If there's another part of the same costume, you can also bounce to that (say, you're frustrated with sculpting the prop, so you move on to sewing the dress), which is helpful if you are working under deadline. This will help with the attention span issue, since you're not doing the same task over and over. Try to find a different genre of task to work on.

Take breaks. Often and as needed. Don't feel guilty about needing time to recover. Hell, use the Pomodoro method or similar when crafting if you need to. Set time limits on your breaks if you can -- "I'm going to clear these two shrines in Zelda and then look at it again" or "I'm going to have a snack and once I'm done with this pot of tea I'll go back". I don't find it helpful to set time limits because then I'm just dreading the end of that time and watching the clock, but refocusing on something else that has a concrete ending will be more flexible and help your brain focus on that thing instead of your costume. Also don't underestimate the power of literally just going to sleep and looking at it again the next day. These things also help with attention span.

You can also do this the other way -- craft for a set period. "I'll do this task for three episodes of this anime" or "I'll take a break after this movie/podcast/whatever." I find having media on the background helps me, but make sure it's something you don't need to pay TOO much attention to. (I watch old ecchi anime for this purpose oops) It's also a good little motivator if you decide to only watch that anime or listen to that podcast or whatever while crafting, because then you will want to craft to get to the next episode!

If you need deadlines to work well, great! Set those for yourself, but try not to tie to a con if you can. That's how you end up crunching. If you set deadlines of your own, you can always set that deadline for another time if you don't think you can do it. This also ties in with rewards -- I like to reward myself when hitting the deadline, but if I have to move the deadline back, I'll still reward myself for hitting the new one. That way, I have external motivation to hit the deadline so I don't keep pushing it out indefinitely, but also nothing is lost and I'm not punishing myself for needing more time.

If you have crafter friends, set up Discord crafting nights or lean on them to encourage you (obviously don't use them emotionally, but have it be a reciprocal cheering on and supporting of friends). Just put on voice chat and craft. Ask someone to text you to ask for your progress (especially useful if you fall into an ADHD hole and scroll your phone for hours on your day off and forget everything else). Find a way to create little reminders and small motivations for yourself.

I know this is easier said than done, but try to reframe the way your brain thinks about crafting. If you're the type to go into a guilt spiral about not crafting, reframe it to yourself -- your body and mind both need rest, it's okay to put things off for another con, it's a hobby and should be fun so if it gets too stressful it's okay to take a step back, etc. Repeat these things to your brain until it gets the message....or until you have the motivation to craft, which will then also help.

If you just REALLY can't push yourself to do something, find a way to get excited about the project again. Reconsume the media. Infodump on a willing friend (seriously everyone needs friends who are willing to mutually infodump about their interests haha). Look at fanart. Listen to the soundtrack. Plan out photoshoot locations and poses. Plan a silly little con ribbon, item you'll give out, or joke photos you want to take. Rope a friend in to cosplaying it with you. If none of that sparks anything, then shelve the project, work on something you ARE excited about, and then come back to it.

If you have a sudden burst of crafting energy, ride that baby out.

It can be HARD to e a working adult who crafts and also doesn't easily get the motivation to do so, but I usually find that once I get back into after a longer period, just that makes me excited again. I also find that starting is the hardest part, or starting back up after a longer break, so if you find that motivation, inertia takes over to some extent (or, at least, the desire to get the project DONE).

Also remembering that it's just a hobby: done is better than perfect. You rarely will have actual obligations to do your hobby. (If you find that things like groups are too much stress, don't do them, and if you find that groups are a good motivator, do them -- giving yourself an obligation can either help or not help depending on your specific brain weasels)

Not all these tips will work for everyone since it's just what works for me, but I hope that helps and gives some ideas! Good luck :]

How do you motivate yourself to work on costumes? Between my short attention span and being tired after working, I never feel motivated to work on cosplay, especially when it's a particularly difficult or daunting part.

honestly if you figure this out please tell me

I’ve been struggling with this a LOT and it’s why I’ve been doing a lot more difficult wigs and upgraded taobao lately. It’s so hard!

[sukiglycerin]

it takes two || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst

* words: 1,647

* warnings: brief fighting scene (implied), swearing (duh), a lil bit of insecure katsuki but ofc comfort after, reader is mentioned to be in the hero business field, KATSUKI WEARS SHOES IN THE HOUSE !!! can you believe the audacity-

* original request:  Hello dear :)) Can I request a Bakugou x reader fic where he gets hit by a clone quirk and the clone is like the complete opposite of him, personality-wise, and Bakugou frequently loses his temper because the clone keeps hitting on his s/o I am sorry for bothering you :(

* a/n: you? bother me? never. actually, i’m sorry this took so long to complete! i’m hoping i can restart a consistent posting schedule soon. happy early birthday bakugou! this is my gift :) i hope you all enjoy~ i love @toishi for proofreading this T^T

it’s a lazy day for you. all you’ve been doing is sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat, and indulging in six different rhythm games despite your lack of rhythm, it’s a good day, snuggled up under the mountains of fuzzy blankets and squished in between soft pillows on your bed, your favorite song quietly playing from your phone on your nightstand. natural light fills your otherwise unlit room, curtains pushed aside to let the sun shine in her full glory. time is idle in this sanctuary of yours for only today; whether a minute or an hour has passed is something out of your concern. 

there’s nothing different when bakugou comes home, the jingle of keys and click of the door telling you that it’s him. he’s oddly quiet, though, and for a second you’re almost wondering why he hasn’t yelled “i’m home, dumbass!” before said blond peeks his head into the room. 

“hey, love,” he flashes a rare smile. it’s kind, like the soft light of the sun you've become so acquainted with. “i’m home.”

“hey?” you sit up, propping the pillows behind you so you can comfortably lean against the headboard of your bed. “you feeling alright?”

you expect a gruff reply of “the fuck are you talking about?” and a scowl, but get the opposite. a pleasant expression graces katsuki's face, which makes him look more handsome than usual. his hair almost seems tame this way. he’s also uncharacteristically clean; his costume is usually dirt-treaded and at least a little battered whenever he returns from hero patrol. now, though? his outfit is pristine, as if pulled out from a laundromat and ironed professionally. there’s a ghost of a frown on your lips.

"i'm lovely, now that i can see you." the line is spoken like a sappy confession from the male lead of a k-drama; you'd laugh if it wasn't for your utter confusion about katsuki's sudden change in demeanor. his facial expression is twisted in such a gallant way that it arouses suspicion in you.

you’re opening your mouth to reply when there’s a startling crashing at the front door. katsuki’s face falls into downhearted dread, as if expecting the intrusion. his reaction surprises you more than the intrusion itself. the door slams shut in the distance, rattling the house. the sound of boots clomping against the hardwood floor frightens you as you thrust your warm sheets aside (alas, they could wait) and reach for your bat under the bed. katsuki only stares at you, transfixed, and you feel the slightest urge to clobber him with the weapon. why isn’t he ready to fight? you’re up and approaching the doorway of your bedroom when you stop in your tracks.

“hey, fucker!” a loud, abrasive voice yells from down the hallway. “i found ya!”

you recognize that timbre in an instant, then turn to look at katsuki, still standing at your bedside, with a questioning gaze. he’s wearing an expression you never thought you’d see your husband have - his eyes are wide, mouth agape like a deer in headlights.

despite this vote of inconfidence from him, you pad forward slowly, bat gripped tightly and slung over your shoulder. you plunge forward, passing the doorway and glancing left. a shadowy figure stands five feet from you, its stature menacing. you swing blindly, but you bat is only met with more air. the figure is a little bit further now - damnit, it had good reflexes.

“you could still use some work on that swing,” it lowly chuckles and confuses you. you squint, trying to make out who in the world this guy thinks he is to comment on your swing. you gasp, faltering your grip on the bat. 

“k-katsuki? what?”

“got hit with a stupid clone quirk on patrol,” this katsuki grumbles bitterly, stepping towards you. he’s dressed in his full hero costume, green grenadier bracers a tight fit in the narrow hallway. “i apprehended the guy but my clone won’t stop following me around. it’s stupidly fast, too, whenever i try to catch it.”

“....and,” you start, “how do i know that you’re not the clone?” you pretend to inspect him close, eyes slowly trailing from the tips of his spiky, golden hair to his black combat boots. (oh, man, you were going to yell at him about wearing shoes in the house later.)

“don’t start this inception bullshit with me now,” he groans. 

“what’s katsuki bakugou’s favorite food?” you question, though you have no doubt that this katsuki is the real one. 

“anything spicy,” he bemoans. “now, let me-”

“that was an easy one.” you shake your head. “what was the first idea katsuki bakugou had for a hero name idea instead of lord explosion murder?”

if you were in better light, you’re sure you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink. 

“mighty boom,” he mumbles. 

“sorry, what was that?” you tease.

“mighty boom!” he half-shouts, flustered.

“oh, okay, so you’re the real katsuki,” you say. “how do we defeat the clone?’

“according to the quirk user, it should disappear after two or three hours. but it can’t really do much harm, as long as it’s not in the sight of the user himself,” he says. “now let me at ‘im. he’s making a fool of myself.” 

he attempts to shove himself forward, but you stop him before he can see through the door frame. you glance at the clone, who’s looking at you with round, ruby eyes. he looks like a puppy with that innocent expression, and for a split second, you think that you actually might miss the calm, charming air of this katsuki. turning back to the real katsuki, who pretends not to notice the shift in your eyes, you exhale. 

“have at it, but take it outside first, please. i can’t have you tracking in more dirt.” you look to the dirt-ridden footprints behind him on the wooden flooring, sighing.

but in a flash he’s past you - wow, you really weren’t blocking him at all before, were you? - outfit a blur of black, green, and orange as he seizes the clone, slings it over his shoulder like it's made of air, and vanishes past you and out the door. he seldom leaves a trace of dirt, this time, smooth maneuvering himself outside while the clone bids you one last pleading farewell.

you hear blasting, yelling, and yelps, the lattermost presumably the clone’s, barely muffled from your position inside. your first thought wonders what the neighbors will think. you glance one last time at the tracks of katsuki’s boots then turn back to your room. he’d have to mop up that mess later. 

ten minutes and an eternity later, katsuki returns inside. by the pause at the front door, you figure one of two things: katsuki’s either taking the time to take off his shoes and put them away properly or staring at the filth he left on the floor. you’re hoping it’s the former. his footsteps are light as he goes to fetch a mop and clean the mess.

finished, he shuffles into your shared room and briefly looks at your comfortable position on the bed.

“what?” you whine. “hero business is hard. i needed a day off.”

this earns a laugh from the man, who’s in the process of removing his gauntlets and stowing them away. he shrugs off the rest of his costume, opting for much more comfortable attire and dropping his mask on a dresser. 

“how was your day?” you ask when he snuggles next to you on the bed. he’s sweaty and smells deeply of caramel, but you’ll nag him to shower later. the wear shows in his eyes and movement, sluggish after a long day of work. 

“good,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your warmth. “except for that clone bastard.”

you hum, joking, “he was charming, though.”

when he looks up at you with a vulnerable look in his eyes, you regret it.

“did you… really like him that much?” his voice is hoarse, scarcely a whisper. he averts his eyes, fiddling with the hem of your shirt sleeve.

“of course not,” you reply tenderly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek. he still can’t look you in the eyes.

“you know you’ll always be number one in my heart, right? even if you’re not the number one hero, you’re the constant in my heart.” you touch your chest, right over your heart. 

“y-you sure?” his words crackle like dying embers, inconsistent and unstable, flakes of lit ash that weakly dissipate into the atmosphere. a waning fire is still warm, though; with a bit of oxygen it can be rejuvenated, relit, and burn bright once again. 

“am i one to be wrong?” you ask him, and he faintly shakes his head. “i fell in love with you not for your looks, katsuki… i don’t want a disney prince. i want you, not some fairytale guy.”

“i yell, and i’m brash-”

you cut him off, chuckling, “and that’s what i love about you. you don’t-” you make a vague gesture with your hands, then drop them, unsure how to articulate your thoughts. “you don’t care what people think. you’re unapologetically… you.”

“you sure?” katsuki tries again. “that- that guy, that thing- you sure you don’t prefer a guy that’ll buy you roses with a note on the tag that says ‘you are the most beautiful flower in my garden’ in fancy cursive script on it?”

“do people really do that?” you frown. “i mean, i hope no guy does that for me-” katsuki exhales a breath of relief. you look at him questioningly but don’t press the issue. 

“i love you, katsuki,” you finish, “and no shitty clone will ever change that. ever.”

while he showers, katsuki’s thankful that he burned the roses from some secret admirer he found in your shoe locker during your high school days. 

[sagedbelladonna]

The Lake I Go To For Tranquility

𝔓𝔬𝔢𝔪 𝔟𝔶: 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰 𝔗𝔯𝔲��𝔶 ⏁ 𝔅𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔬𝔰

This week has been an awfully tiring week

continuously dragging my feet.

I'm down

I'm free

I'm left with the feeling of my heels being so flat

from hours of standing & waiting at the laundromat

as if the bottom of my feet are non-existent and instead

are just bone

gravity shoving them into the rough and dirty carpet.

I long for my rest

I yearn for tranquility

I live in a connected home in Aurora

a small neighborhood filled with many neighbors that seems as if

I don't belong.

I don't have anything in common with any of them

They are old while I stand young

I'm an introvert while they are outgoing

looking my way whenever I do get the chance to leave my home

But only for one particular reason

There's a lake nearby the house I live in

not too far

but not so close either

about a 5 minute walk, I'm sure

But I'm impatient

so I take short cuts

I pass through the family of trees that stand tall

across from my house diagonally to the right

takes shorter than 5 minutes

I'd say three

or two if I run

I inch towards my rest

I wish for my tranquility

I don't really go there that often

I'm usually quite apathetic when a week ends

But this week is a different week

I needed to go to the lake

The lake embroidered and filled by mother ducks

their children running along with them

The lake I call my own because

it is deserted, empty.

Only the water waves from the gentle breeze

keeps me company

My only saint, my only haven

to run for comfort and love

My skin wet

engulfed by it's floods

my clothes now drenched and heavy

laying on my back

as it carries me.

I'm floating on the surface

I'm looking up at the sky

and all I can see is it's beds, it's chemtrails

and the blue

and the white

and the black

and the stars.

My parents are probably wondering

where I could be

I have a curfew at 8 in the evening

But I wasn't paying attention

I was asleep

and I'm still floating on the surface

staring at the sun's freckles above me.

I'm having my rest

I'm relishing my tranquility

I'm sure he'd be forgiving

give me light and make it my own

I don't care as long as it's the only thing he's bringing

I also have the stars

if he leaves me.

The pale moon will take me in her waiting arms

She will give me the love

and the spark

and make it my own.

I know she'll promise to keep me more livelier

not greener, if by greener

you mean sicker

slowly killing me by heat stroke

when all I've ever wanted was for you to nurture me

and not think of me as a joke

when all I've ever wanted was for you to heal me

and not make me feel like I dread to mope

when all I've ever wanted was for you to treasure me

and not make me think that to you, I'm just dope.

I had my rest

I possessed my tranquility.

[the-matt-of-tomorrow]

Subtle Silhouettes

He never truly understood what he was missing out on.

He never looked for color, because he felt that the greys were just fine.

He was cold, but not unhappy

He would walk outside with no place to go

He enjoyed the word melancholy

after all, if a word perfectly suits you, why wouldn't you?

But love... love never seemed to break his barricade of winter.

He had said it, but not meant it, because he only ever looked at the grey

She always was living

She wore pastels because she liked them

She was warm and happy

She would walk outside, for everywhere was a place to go

She loved all words, for she saw them all as art

She emitted love

Everything she said, she meant

One day as he walked, he crossed a brightly dressed man

but to him, he seemed monochromatic

The same day, she too walked,

Everyone seemed vibrant

Two days went by, and he was down to his last clothes

he put on a sweater, too bright for his taste, and he went to do laundry

Her day was quite different, she had lost a dear friend.

She walked to the funeral in the most solemn black dress

As he walked to the laundromat

He dropped an old sock in front of a grey woman

It flew away.

She passed by an odd man cursing at the ground.

She liked the coral sweater he wore.

She enjoyed the moment

When he finally loaded a washer, he realized that he forgot money.

He had a dreadful day.

She remembered her friend and saw some nice people

She had a lovely time.

He was alone and didn't know why.

She also was alone.

He shared his loneliness with himself

Seclusion and silence filled his blank mind

She shared her loneliness with the world

Everything was new to her, everything was a fresh song

After a week of mourning his sock, he went to the mall

He needed a new sock to fill the void the last one left

He was back in grey, soft, comfortable grey

She went for a walk around town

She wanted to sing around the whole city

the tall towers had a tremendous tenacity

He reached the mall, once again realizing he had no money

He thought to himself, “How am I to be happy when I have no sock nor the ability to buy one

His anger pursued behind the loneliness of his soul

Red began to ring all around him

He’d see others with two socks being a pair

He was jealous

He began to understand his loneliness

She finally found her destination in the outskirts of place that raised her

She savored the cities subtle silhouette

Her heart began to sink

She realized she was very near to where she met her friend that had died

No one she knew was near her

Everything faded

She was saddened

She began to realize her emptiness

He found a bench in which to sit

He was unable to stand his realization

She wanted to be alone where she sat

But he sat next to her

Normally he wouldn't consider sitting next to someone as brightly dressed as she

Normally she wouldn't sit especially in the case of loneliness

Both sat with their heads in hands and tears in their eyes

She looked over to the gloom man

Colour returned as she realized that he was sad

the colour blue

He pulled his head up

He saw her beauty and the red faded into a passionate colour

the colour of a sweet rosé

Their eyes locked

He had wonderfully blue eyes

the kind that can make you think of endless waters

Her eyes were like the earth

So large with colors of both grass and sea

They talked

She told him about her friend

He told her about his sock

Together they deduced that he was really missing a friend, not a sock

He began to feel something new when she hugged him

She felt less empty when she did this

The two decided to go for a walk

She explained her love for the hues of the world

He described the beauty to be found in grey

Time was lost and so was the sun

He guided her safely home

She embraced him one more time and retired to bed

Neither slept that night

The next morning she went for coffee down the street

He rushed to her apartment and knocked vigorously

When she returned home and found him sitting

And finally, he saw her

-MEOG

[tamedbyafox]

why is it so wrong for property owners to take steps to ensure random strangers don't use their property to camp out? you typed up so much about the evils of hostile architecture, if that's what you believe then are you inviting homeless ppl to sleep in your backyard or living room instead? why not?? maybe because people you don't know have the potential to be destructive and dangerous????

this is the sort of very sad attitude that I think hostile architecture creates and encourages. I’m very sorry you live your life in so much fear. Can you really think your perception of your property’s relative safety is more important than someone else’s safety, and the thinnest smidgen of comfort? 

Your ask only talks about houseless people, not those who are disabled, elderly, or have a house and simply want to socialize out in the public space. So it doesn’t address what I added to that post, but I’ll stake out my general thoughts on this nonetheless. Next time, you may want to try addressing the issues someone’s actually speaking on rather than raising the standard “Not-In-My-Backyard” defenses.

First, other people aren’t an existential threat. People existing in the general vicinity of you, or the general vicinity of your stuff, isn’t some huge threat. Most people are just people, wanting to go about their day and be left alone. People are generally ok, and they’re part of your community. To the extent that people (housed and unhoused, in public and in private) do cause harm, simply saying “you can’t sit here!” isn’t actually addressing the problem. And this also ignores that those who are unhoused are more often the harmed party than the one causing harm.

 And, on the same point, if you’re going to say that unknown people are dangerous, you can’t even justify the existence of a shopping mall or a mega-store. Too many people, they might be dangerous. A laundromat? A school? A Church?!?! Theme parks??!!?!? Any sort of public space could be a threat, we should just abolish them all. The idea that people you don’t know are inherently dangerous is the deathknell of any hope of community. 

Second, you’re making a false equivalency between public space and private space with your comment on living rooms. (the backyard, interestingly, is a reality for many people - there are several houseless people who stay in what I and my neighbors consider our “backyard”, and thats just fine. We’ve never had issues.) Those images in the post though, were of park benches, sidewalks, the buildings that abut a sidewalk, little trees and such. That’s a public space for people to be in! Those spaces are specifically designed for people to be in! Public spaces are for us to use! And that means all people - the houseless, the disabled, community members who just want to be outside. These park benches and trees and sidewalks were put there for the community. And to the extent that some corporation wants their storefront to take advantage of the traffic of the community, they should have to be welcoming of our community - all of it, housed, unhoused. And if the space can be used by someone to stay warm or dry, then they should do that.

Third, these people are forced to “camp out” in these spaces because we, their community, have failed them. There are systemic failures that prevent them from sleeping somewhere warmer than that. Somewhere safer than that. And I am absolutely working towards a world where everyone has the right to a warm, safe, stable housing situation. But until that day, I’m not going to deny them the panacea of a slightly warmer place, a slightly more sheltered place, a slightly safer place. Can you really look at someone huddling in a building’s indent to get out of the wind and kick them out? Why should I punish someone for a situation caused by a systemic failure of our society? 

Fourth, these bits of sharp metal and wooden dividers don’t actually solve a single problem. The act of putting up some hostile architecture doesn’t address safety, or houselesness, or any other root issue. It simply pushes the problem onto someone else. All these achieve is forcing people you don’t want to see somewhere else. It doesn’t make them, or you, or the people in the space they’re going to fo to, more safe. It doesn’t end houselessness or bring about better social conditions or even make the community safe. It just means you don’t have to look at it. Hostile architecture is the ultimate NIMBY mentality of out of sight, out of mind. 

Finally, I hope you take a second and think about what it means to hold the value of property above the value of another human being. I’d love to invite you to read, or watch, A Christmas Carol. It’s the season, after all.  I’m going to include two passages below I think are rather pertinent.

Here, two gentlemen have come to Mr. Scrooge, before his visit by the spirits, to ask him to make some charitable donation:

“At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,” said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.”

“Are there no prisons?” asked Scrooge.

“Plenty of prisons,” said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

“And the Union workhouses?” demanded Scrooge. “Are they still in operation?”

“They are. Still,” returned the gentleman, “I wish I could say they were not.”

“The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?” said Scrooge.

“Both very busy, sir.”

“Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,” said Scrooge. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

“Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,” returned the gentleman, “a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?”

“Nothing!” Scrooge replied.

“You wish to be anonymous?”

“I wish to be left alone,” said Scrooge. “Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don’t make merry myself at Christmas and I can’t afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned—they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.”

“Many can’t go there; and many would rather die.”

“If they would rather die,” said Scrooge, “they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides—excuse me—I don’t know that.”

“But you might know it,” observed the gentleman.

“It’s not my business,” Scrooge returned. “It’s enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!”

And the second portion that I think speaks well to the problems of hostile architecture, and the isolation and ignorance it reinforces, is when Christmas Present shows Scrooge the meager Christmas of a houseless London family, and Scrooge sees something truly horrifying: 

“Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, “but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?”

“It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,” was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. “Look here.”

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

“Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!” exclaimed the Ghost.

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

“Spirit! are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.

“They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!”

“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.

“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”

The bell struck twelve.

[minsugapie]

The Eve: part 1 (1697 words) - who is Kai?

• • • • • •

Lumi is down on her luck. After graduating university with a business degree, she has yet to secure a career in that path, reluctantly working and living at an old motel instead.

Kim Jongin is on the run. He’s been framed for embezzlement, and someone faked his death while he was out of town. With only a handful of bills and a false identity, he had been only able to survive for so long until breaking down in front of an old motel, hoping that whoever found him wouldn’t report him to the authorities.

• • • • • •

prev // current // next

masterlist

• • • • • •

Present day 

The only sound that evening could be heard from the chair behind the lobby counter was the distant buzz of the vacancy sign. Lumi had even gone to the diner for dinner and had come back to absolutely nothing changed. 

She was cold, mostly mentally. Winter was there, temperature quickly falling below freezing level. Although she used to love it, because it meant her favourite holiday was approaching, she dreaded now headed winters because she was alone at the motel and had nobody to warm her up. And the lonelier she felt, the worse her nightmare of the night, her nightmare of the Suho situation. She was able to live her life as normally as she could, but she wasn’t able to sleep without seeing his cold stare. 

That day, Lumi had cleaned out the room that was used last night, but the place was dead now, and she assumed it would be until the weekend. It did pick up during the holiday season because of travellers needing a place to stay while passing by, but it was still slow season. So, she took out the sudoku book from under the counter and set to work on a random puzzle. Really, she couldn’t believe that this was where she ended up. She wanted to go to the city and start her life as soon as she’d graduated, but she ended up here, without a family to go home to. 

An hour passed before another sound was heard. She was brought out of her puzzle-induced concentration by a bang. It sounded like something fell right outside the door. She sprung from her seat and quickly went to inspect the situation –actually glad for something to do. 

Right outside the door was a body; it was barely breathing and looked to be freezing and unconscious. She scrambled to the man, checking to see if he was still alive, and if she knew od him. What she was not expecting, however, was a man that was supposed to be dead. 

Kim Jongin was laying on the ground in front of her, clearly still very much alive —even if only by a hair. So many thoughts ran through her mind. Should she call the police? Should she call an ambulance? Should she just leave him there and pretend she didn’t see him?

Shaking her head, she knew she couldn’t do any of those things. He looked helpless, malnourished, and practically frozen to death. Any other person may not have even recognized him, especially in the dark like this. For the past few years, he was known to have lighter hair, but now, it was dyed black and falling over his face. The hat he’d been wearing must have fallen off when he fell because it lied a few feet away. He had a backpack with him but no jacket. 

Deciding that she should take him into her room, she took his bag and hat and ran to her room, unlocking it and leaving the door open. As quickly as she could, she tried to pick him up, mostly dragging him, into her room. She only barely managed to get him onto the bed before collapsing from the dead weight of him. 

Lumi had never experienced carrying dead weight before, and now she could safely say that it was not fun. As he laid there, she wondered what she should do. He was potentially a dangerous man, and Tom’s words about her being too trusting ran through her mind. 

She jumped up, remembering that she left the door open to the lobby. She would close up for the night. It wasn’t like they were going to get any more people anyways. 

What was she going to do with him? He clearly needed some nourishment and a shower, but he was still unconscious. She wondered if he would wake up and at least drink a glass of water. 

She didn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, let alone nurse someone who was on the brink of death back to health. She really should have watched more documentaries about survival. 

So, she decided to take off his shoes and put a blanket over his cold body before grabbing a water bottle, determined to get him to drink it. 

“Wake up,” she whispered as she lightly shook his body. “Please, you need to drink this…”

He stirred after a few minutes of her shaking him. His eyes didn’t open but his mouth opened and closed like he needed water. His cracked lips that were slightly blue from the cold weren’t the only indicator. He hummed as she told him that needed to drink some water. 

Grabbing the back of his head and pulling his body up into her lap so he didn’t choke on the water, she put the bottle to his lips. He didn’t make any effort to move his arms, but he tilted his chin back like he wanted more. 

It hurt her to see him in this type of situation, so vulnerable. He always gave off an air of confidence and capability, but right then he seemed so small and helpless. He finished off the entire water bottle slowly before she felt a cold hand grip her. 

“Who?…” He mumbled, eyes still not opening. Lumi moved his body back onto the bed and backed away from him. 

“It doesn’t matter. Just sleep while I find out how to make you feel better,” she answered, quickly going to her drawers to find a toque and mitts for him to put on as well as the blankets. 

The only thing that she knew for sure at the moment was that he needed to get warm. 

Vaguely, she remembered something she’d learned about getting someone warm. But it was crazy! What would he think of her? Looking at his shivering body and blue lips, she knew that she had to. She couldn’t put him in warm water. That would be painful. So she had to do it.

She began to undress Jongin slowly, feeling as if she was violating him in some way. It was all for his health, she kept telling herself. His pants were harder to come off, a thick pair of jeans that clung to his freezing frame. Once he was undressed, she took off her own clothes –both of them only left in their underwear and socks. 

She crawled under the covers and pulled him to her, trying to get over the fact that his body only made her shiver. But, it was her body warmth that would help him, and she kept that in mind. “Please be okay,” she whispered to herself as she clung to him. A long minute later she felt him move, crawling closer into her body. His legs tangled with hers, forehead resting on her chest and hands against her stomach. He felt her warmth which she assumed was a good sign. 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep. In that circumstance, she couldn’t even admire the man in her arms; the only important thing was that he didn’t die on her watch. 

• • • • • •

When Lumi awoke in the morning, Jongin was still clinging to her, but his body felt warm. After cracking her eyes open to check out the clock on the bedside table, she knew she had to get up. There were a few things that she needed to do today. For one, she needed to grab a few more blankets from the lobby to make sure that he stayed warm. She also needed to go to the store to get some food that wouldn’t be too much for him, maybe some bananas and some toast to start out with. Finally, he had a few scrapes and bruises littering his skin, so she needed to grab some supplies for that. 

She finally crawled out of bed, putting on the same clothes that she had on the night before. Just before she left, she tucked him in tighter and wrote a note. She left it on her side of the bed in case he woke up. 

Please stay until I come back.

Lumi x

It was short but simple. She hurriedly left to get the supplies for him. She had to walk to the general store because she didn’t own a car, but it wasn’t too far. Lumi prayed that James wasn’t currently there because she didn’t feel like having to explain why she was buying things today when she usually went on Sundays to get whatever she needed for the week. 

It was a quick trip because he wasn’t there, and she only had to deal with Tom, who had taken a job there after his wife passed for something to do. 

“Did you hurt yourself or something?” Tom asked as he watched her place the medical kit on the counter beside a loaf of bread and a bunch of bananas. 

“Just making sure the motel is stocked up,” Lumi easily fibbed, tacking out a few bills to pay for what she needed. “But I really can’t stay and chat for long, so have a good day Tom, and keep the change for yourself!”

She bolted out the door before anymore could be said. 

She wasn’t surprised that Kim Jongin was still sleeping when she returned. Hopefully he would wake up soon, so she could feed him and make him drink some more. While waiting for him to wake, Lumi took his clothes and threw them into her hamper, preparing to go to the laundromat later to wash them for him. 

Remembering that he had a backpack with him, she debated opening it to see if there were any more clothes. He was still sound asleep, so she did it. There was a very real possibility that he would not take this situation well at all. 

Inside, there was an empty wallet, a phone with its charger and very few clothes. She took all the clothes and put them in the hamper with the clothes he was wearing yesterday before turning on the phone. Maybe there was someone she could contact to tell that he was alive. 

[thefloatingstone]

overlordraax replied to your post: Not feeling much better after waking up. Somebody...

List your top fave fanfics. List your top fave tropes in fanfic.

Oh noooooo this is a really good one too sdjkjdhfsh

I was actually thinking of doing a fanfic Rec list tbh!! I hope you don’t mind that they’re all Undertale fics! I think I’ve read more fanfiction for this fandom than I’ve read for any other fandom I’ve ever been in. (Including MLP which is a friggen miracle if you stop to think about it)

BUT ANYWAY! Please check out these fics by some incredibly talented individuals (some of these I’ve put in lists before but w/e here it is again!)

(in literally no particular order at all)

Postcards from Waterfall

Rating: Explicit (Fic as a whole is T but occasionally has specific smut scenes which are marked for easy skipping)

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic timeline

Word Count: 353 763

Ongoing

After an unremembered Genocide timeline, Sans is struggling with lingering feelings of dread. On top of this, coming to terms with his own childhood, and dealing with a lifelong recovery from a massive accident in his youth. However, things seem to slowly improve as he unexpectedly grows closer to Grillby, and feelings turn towards the romantic. But there are still things lurking in the Underground that would do them harm.

(the fic mostly focuses on Sans’ childhood trauma dealing with a apathetic Gaster, an mysterious “Accident” he can barely remember in his near-childhood, his developing feeling for Grillby, and their awkward relationship developing and reacting to situations around them. the plot is paced slowly, but I wouldn’t call it a slice-of-life story as there are larger things at play and get slowly revealed as things move forward)

Thunderstruck

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader / Underfell Papyrus

Setting: Classic Timeline with Underfell Sans and Papyrus

Word Count: 263 284

Ongoing

It’s the classic timeline, and monsters have been on the surface for almost 2 years already. In the Skeleton household though, Sans and Papyrus have acquired two tag-alongs in the form of Underfell Sans (Red) and Underfell Papyrus (Edge) who have come from a much more violent and desperate timeline with no way of going back. This wouldn’t be so bad, but a lifetime of being on constant alert and being intimidating and scary to everyone, where it once had Edge be the most respected of monsters as Captain of the Royal Guard, now sees him severely emotionally and socially crippled. Unable to make friends due to his learned behaviour of being scary and permanently angry, unable to find work because most monsters AND humans find him too hard to handle, and struggling to find his place in his own family unit, with his relationship with his own brother awkward after so many years of pretending to be “boss and henchman”, a strained relationship with Sans who does not trust him (for admittedly good reason) and with the only person he seems on good terms with being Papyrus (who also represents everything Edge could have been but have no hope of achieving).

Things change when caught in a pretty bad thunderstorm, Reader (you) finds him hiding in an alley outside your apartment. And lucky for him, you’re crazy enough to let a terrified stranger into your home until the weather improves, and even crazier, as you decide once he starts yelling, that you’d like to stay in contact with him.

The story is a slowburn Reader-insert romance, but it’s almost much more than that. Told from Edge’s perspective, it’s a recovery fic more than anything. Recovering from a lifetime of trauma, violence, learned survival behaviours, mending relationships with family, learning to fit into a world that at first seems completely incompatible with you, and finding a place in life. Lots of self reflection, sometimes self loathing, pining, confusion, frustration, brief arguments over stupid petty things, arguments over really IMPORTANT things, and a lot of tenderness, even if you’re not someone to go for Reader-insert stories, I highly recommend this one if only for the characterisation and emotional and psychological exploration, especially for Edge and his relationship to to his brother and the world at large. It definitely sold me on his character in a way I’ve never really considered.

Panic Room

Rating: M (note cw on fic)

Ship?: Nothing yet but working towards Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 150 548

Ongoing

It’s been years since monsters broke the barrier, stormed into Ebott, and forcefully took over, place Toriel as the monarch and cutting the city off from the outside world. Ebott has become a dystopian dictatorship, where humans are second class citizens who can have incredible luxury depending on how useful and accommodating they are to their new monster rules, or simply be exterminated if stepping out of line. Reader (you) have been imprisoned for almost a year, living in torturous conditions, scarred from beatings and with no hope or future to even think of. But due to your spirit of Perseverance, you continue to live, to not give in to despair. One day, Swapfell Papyrus (Rus) wanders into the prison, looking to “buy” himself a human (for reasons unknown to you) and, for whatever reason, picks you.

He brings you home, has you cleaned up, healed up to the best of his ability, and then has the hurdle of trying to present you to Swapfell Sans; the Lieutenant of the Royal Guard and Alphys’ right hand man. On the verge of throwing you out, Sans allows you to stay and work as the maid in his meticulous home. A hard job, but you accept, unwilling to try your luck on the streets of Ebott. And so your new life begins with the brothers, and the longer you work there, the more you learn. You learn more about the very touchy but at his core good-hearted Rus, you learn more about the terrifying and ruthless Sans, and the sadness and desire to show kindness behind his mask, and you learn more about Ebott. About the constant servailence, the propaganda machine, the injustice, the violence, the broken system ruled by the blind and terrible queen.

You don’t know what sort of life or future is in store for you now, but it’s better than the prison (ANYTHING is better than the prison) and just at the edges of reality, where you can’t even see or notice them yet, a change is coming. Invisible and far in the distance, but slowly approaching.

Dirty Laundry

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (poly relationship, no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 49 369

Ongoing

Reader (you) have recently moved to Ebott for a change in life (it being monster central may or may not have something to do with that). It’s been a few months since monsters were freed, and many are integrating with society slowly but surely. One day, while at the laundromat, you find yourself watched by a scary but ultimately nervous and “I don’t know how to laundry!” Swapfell Papyrus.

In time, a friendship forms. He’s a really sweet guy, anxious but eager to please. It would all be very cute if not for the fact that his asshole brother doesn’t seem very pleased with you (or anybody?) “worming their way” into his baby brother’s life. Nevermind that their therapist said they needed time apart! Nevermind that Papyrus has asked him for some space! He’s going to make sure his little brother is safe! Just as he always had.

Besides... if he doesn’t, what else is there for him to do? Leave Papyrus alone? Leave both of you alone? Accept that Papyrus doesn’t need him any more? May not even want him any more?

...would that make him happier?

Fired Up and Bone Weary (Series)

Rating: G - T

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic Timeline

Word Count: various

Complete

A collection of short stories and oneshots, documenting the everyday life and events in Sans, Grillby and Papyrus’ lives, starting underground and early dating, and working its way to surface life and marriage. Mostly just fluffy, slice of life settings, only now and then undercut by misfortune or drama. Dealing with Grillby’s complicated family, trying to manage Sans’ fluctuating depression, and Papyrus’ role and desire for a family. Most of it is just small, everyday happiness though. And the fear that at any moment all of it could disappear with a reset is (most of the time) not thought about.

(I haven’t finished the series myself just yet. I got stuck on the third last story in the series, the one with the most chapters, due to personal reasons. I do plan to finish it at a later date, but at this point in time it hit a little too close to home. I still recommend all of it whole-heartedly, as I doubt other people will react to it the way I did.)

There are also a few oneshots as well as fics I’ve mentioned before (like SSLL for instance which I STILL love and you guys should STILL read!!) but these are the main ones I’m reading/have read at the moment!

If you guys want I can make a list of oneshots too. Just let me know 8′D I also didn’t include people’s tumblr names just in case they didn’t want it spread around for any particular reason, and I didn’t include more than one fanfic per author, I may add some of their other work in another post at some point. But I wanted to give each author equal exposure in this post.

Anyway! Hopefully you guys consider any (although you really should read ALL) of these fics! And give the authors comments and kudos!

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Saying Good-Bye to Yesterday-Chapter 10

Well, it’s taken quite a while to get this chapter posted, but it’s finally here.

 In this chapter, Rusty reflects on the way his feelings toward Andy and Sharon's relationship with Andy have changed over the years. 

You can find it here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/10/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday

here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/10/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday

And here:

***********

“So, your Mom is getting married. How do you feel about that?”

Rusty looked up from the chessboard, a flash of surprise crossing his face as he met the curious gaze of his psychiatrist. Blowing out a deep sigh, he shook his head with resignation. “I don’t know why I should be surprised you already know. It’s not like you can keep any secrets around here.”

Dr. Joe’s lips twisted with wry amusement. “I’ve been invited to the engagement party. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“How do I feel about it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my Mom is happy, so of course I’m happy.”

“Of course you’re happy?“

“Yes. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Oh my God. Like I’m not telling you the truth.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Because there was a time that wasn’t the case.”

“What wasn’t the case?”

“You being happy about it. There was a time that your Mom was happy about her relationship with Andy and you weren’t quite so sure about it.”

He shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not so long.”

Rusty slumped back in his seat and gave Dr. Joe a long look. His feelings about his mother and Andy were complicated and had gone through many changes over the years as he‘d watched them grow from adversaries to friends, from lovers to engaged. Back when Sharon had first taken him in, she‘d also just been promoted to leading Major Crimes, and as an outsider, with an inside view, he’d been a keen observer of the dynamics running through the division.

It hadn’t taken long to notice that Sharon most often relied on the blunt, no-nonsense Andy Flynn, rather than her second in command, Provenza. Which he supposed made sense because Provenza had been slow to overcome the grudge he had over her getting the job he assumed would be his.

And, when it came to finding his biological mother, it was Andy she approached for help. The brash lieutenant was sarcastic and didn’t give an inch, but strangely enough, Rusty rather liked that about him. It was honest. Andy didn’t pretend to like him and he never tried to bullshit him. He hated people who tried to bullshit him. Later, when they’d found his mother and convinced her to return, Andy was the one that Sharon asked to accompany him to the bus stop to greet her.

What happened at that bus stop was something he tried very hard not to think about. Though he hadn’t known it then, that night was the final severing of any kind of mother/son relationship he would ever have with Sharon Beck. And Andy Flynn had been sitting right by his side when it happened. He’d been worried about how Flynn might react when he met his mother. She was the kind of woman for whom the caustic detective would normally have nothing but contempt. A drug addict who’d run off with her drug addict boyfriend. A dirtbag who’d abandoned her thirteen-year-old son to the streets. Those were the kinds of judgments he’d never been shy about making. Instead, rather than condemning the woman, Andy had been surprisingly kind and gone out of his way to help calm his nerves while they waited.

Then the bus arrived and nothing played out the way it was supposed to. His mother was supposed to walk off that bus, pull him into her arms and apologize for all the years she’d neglected and abused him. All the years she’d brought violent and dangerous men into their lives.

She was supposed to get down on her knees and beg him to forgive her for walking away and leaving him behind to fend for himself. She was supposed to magically transform into the kind of mother he‘d always fantasized about having.  It was supposed to be the moment he’d been dreaming about for two years.

Instead, he stood next to Andy watching as the passengers began disembarking from the bus, his excitement quickly turning to dread as the line of people began to dwindle down. When the last of them stepped off the bus and it became more and more apparent that his mother was not on board, his stomach clenched painfully. For a moment, he thought might throw up. Andy gave him a hand gesture, urging him not to panic just before he hopped on the bus to see if maybe she was still on board. But he’d known Andy wouldn’t find her, maybe he’d known all along.  His mother had taken the money Andy sent her and disappeared, probably used it for drugs, and every hopeful fantasy he’d had about their reunion came crashing down around him, causing him to run before he burst into tears like a baby.

He’d had two choices that night. Run away again and disappear into the night like so many other homeless, broken teens. Or, recognize that he was not that homeless, hopeless boy anymore. That he had a place to go. A woman who had opened her home, her pocketbook…and her heart to him. A woman he was quickly learning would never let him down.

Back at the condo, he’d finally forced himself to look at his childhood without the blinders he’d been wearing for two years. The blinders he’d put on the day he realized that his mother had truly abandoned him. Because he had to believe it wasn’t her fault. No mother would just walk away and leave her child behind. It was Gary’s fault, he’d made her do it, and one day she would get away from him and come back and they would live happily ever after. He had to believe that. Had to cling to some kind of hope that he might return to a life that had never really existed because the life that he was living on the street was about as bleak and ugly as it got. Now he knew that happily ever after was never going to happen, even if his mother did one day return. Because the truth was, the life that he’d led before she left him behind had been anything but happy.

Looking at his past square in the face, he saw a young boy living with his addicted mother as a squatter in an abandoned, condemned crack house. It was filthy, reeking of vomit, urine and body odor. No one ever cleaned. Cockroaches crawled all over the place and a rat had even bitten him once while he slept. His mother and her boyfriend of the week stayed up all hours drinking and shooting up. By morning, they were too wasted to even wake up. So, he did his best to find something to eat, more often than not finding nothing, and left for school. Because if he didn’t go to school the authorities would come looking and they would take him away from his mother and he‘d never see her again. Whatever kind of mess she was, she was all he knew. All he had.

But when he got to school, his homework wasn’t finished because he hadn’t understood much of it and the help that he’d needed wasn’t there. So, he’d just given up and not bothered with it. Moving from school to school to school didn’t lend itself to a great education. But that didn’t bother him as much as the kids who wrinkled their noses at him and called him names because he smelled bad. He couldn’t find any quarters in his mother’s pockets to go to the run-down Laundromat around the corner and do their laundry, so he’d been forced to wear dirty clothes. And he hadn’t showered in days because the abandoned house they were living in had its water cut off.

Then, when school was out, he had to go home, such as it was. And he didn’t know whether to hope his mother and her boyfriend were still passed out, or awake. Because awake could sometimes be so much worse. Awake meant that when he let the door slam shut he got a beating for making too much noise. And while he was getting that beating he was being called a “little shit” a “bastard” a “noisy motherfucker” and, the worst, for him, a “faggot”. Too young, too weak to defend himself, he’d slink off to a corner filled with pain and anger. His mother, the one person in the world who should have protected him, never defended him, never stood up for him. In fact, if she even bothered to check and see how he was, she would blame him for the beating, telling him he should have known better than to make so much noise and set off Bob, Mike, JC, Coot, Gary, whichever man she was currently in “love” with.

And then, after she’d left him behind and he‘d gone through a string of abusive foster homes and a year on the streets, he’d ended up here in this beautiful high rise condo in the heart of wealthy Los Feliz where everything was always neat and clean and smelled good, like scented candles and the fresh flowers that always graced the tables. He not only had a bed with clean sheets and blankets, but he also had his own bedroom. He was living with a woman who not only took care of herself but took care of him as well. A woman who brought him grocery shopping and asked him what kinds of food he liked to eat and then stocked her refrigerator and cupboards with his favorites. A woman who made sure he had healthy meals right down to the apple she put in his lunch sack every day.

For the first time in his life, he did not have to worry about where his next meal was going to come from, or if there would even be a next meal. Nor did he have to worry about dirty, torn clothes. This woman took him shopping and bought him new clothes. Not just his school uniform khakis and light blue polo shirts, things he actually liked, and they were always freshly laundered so he had clean clothes every day.

Yes, this woman had rules and there were boundaries and no he didn‘t always like that, but she always spoke to him kindly and with respect. She didn’t lash out and call him names, even when he knew he might have deserved a few when he was being particularly rude and disrespectful to her. She had conversations with him, gently leading him toward making the right decisions rather than forcing them on him. She talked a lot about his future and offered to help him with school applications so he could get a good education at some fancy private Catholic school she wanted him to attend. She even offered to hire a tutor because thanks to his haphazard schooling he was so far behind other kids his age.

For the first time since he could remember, he was not in the parenting role. For the first time, he had someone taking care of him. Someone who checked in on him at night before bed and who got him up in the morning to go to school because she was already up and dressed, impeccably so, for work. No drug-hazed mornings for Sharon Raydor. He had someone who cooked for him rather than him having to cook for her because she was too strung out and sick to be hungry as had been the case with his mother.  Sharon Raydor WAS the parent; she had herself and her life together and did not need anyone taking care of her the way he had always had to take care of Sharon Beck.

Sitting in what had become “his” bedroom he’d finally faced the reality of his life as it had been, as it was today, and where it might be in the future. And, with that reflection and the recognition that his future might very well be right here, he was able to let down a few of his defenses with Sharon, even filling out paperwork for that private school she wanted him to attend.  But, he’d put up a few walls with the lieutenant he’d run away from that night. The naïve eagerness for his mother’s arrival that he’d expressed to Andy while they waited for the bus was humiliating. When he thought about all those things he‘d made Andy promise; to be nice to her, to not question her decision to abandon him, to make sure there wasn’t a mini bar in her room, it made him cringe. He felt like an idiot, and Andy had witnessed it all.

To his credit, Andy had never mentioned a word of it. And, when his biological father had shown up on the scene and turned out to be a selfish prick with a quick fist, Andy had been nothing but supportive.

Then, just he was putting his biological parents behind him and was starting to feel more comfortable in his new life, his friend Kris had ratted him out, telling Emma Rios about the threatening letters he‘d been receiving. In an effort to keep Rios from persuading Chief Taylor to send him off into witness protection, Sharon elicited the help of her second in command. With that shift, Lieutenant Provenza suddenly became the central male figure in his life.

That gravitation toward Provenza continued after Sharon attended Nicole’s wedding with Andy. Because something had definitely changed between them that day. There was a new dynamic when they were together. Overnight the close professional relationship they shared had suddenly, and unexpectedly, become personal.  

Andy was no longer Lieutenant Flynn, he was just Andy, and Andy, much to the chagrin of Provenza, was the only member of the team to refer to their Captain more informally as Sharon. That had certainly not gone unnoticed and neither had the fact that the two of them had begun doing things together outside of work. Sometimes Sharon would call to say that they were working late and she was going to run out for a bite to eat with Andy or she’d go off to some movie she’d been dying to see with him, or to a baseball game or an art gallery opening. He’d even heard her on the phone asking him to be her plus one at some charity event, which had really surprised him because those were the kinds of things she usually asked Gavin to attend with her. Andy even started showing up occasionally on Sunday afternoons to munch on nachos and watch football with her, his favorite garlic guacamole and cranberry lime seltzer water now stocked in her fridge. Which, if he was being completely honest, wasn‘t all bad because it kept her from bugging him to watch with her. Despite her best efforts Sharon had yet to turn him into a football fan.

All of this made him look at Andy through new eyes. Though he despised analyzing his motivations, he did recognize that he was, by nature and circumstances, suspicious of people. In his experience, people weren’t ever what they pretended to be. Well, except for Sharon. Sharon was the only genuine person in his life, the only one who‘d turned out to be the real deal. Most people, he’d found, had ulterior motives for everything they did. So, once Andy had become a bigger fixture in Sharon’s life he’d started wondering if the man’s helpful intentions had been more about making a good impression and helping Sharon than about helping him, and he’d continued to turn more to Provenza for advice. Given Provenza’s more adversarial past with Sharon, he knew the man was completely unbiased and not looking at things just from her perspective. The same could not be said for Andy. Andy was always protecting Sharon and her perspective.

But he’d been okay with their friendship, even as he could see a growing connection between them. A certain softness in their eyes when they thought the other wasn’t looking, a way that Sharon had of always reaching out to touch Andy, and the tender way Andy talked to her, not at all the tough, cynical guy he was at work. Things you would have to be blind not to see.

Or in denial.

But there had been nothing romantic, nothing sexual. And he found that platonic dating was fine, especially when it kept his mother focused less focused on him, giving him greater freedom.

Then, Christmas a couple years ago when Andy and Sharon had been struggling to define their relationship to Nicole, he’d had to go and rock the boat, bringing to their attention everything that he’d been witnessing, and something had clicked. For his mother anyway. He was pretty sure that Andy was well aware of what was going on. But with his mother, he’d seen it all play out on her face. Oh, she’d tried denying it, but the look in her eyes contradicted her protests that they were not dating. She knew it was true. They’d been dating all right, just not in the romantic sense.

And then she’d come home one day and told him that Andy had asked her out on a date. A date. She’d never used that word before when it came to going out with Andy, it had always been, “I‘m going to a movie with Andy” or “I‘m going to a Dodger game tonight with Andy.”  But even with this new terminology, he still hadn’t worried too much, figuring it would just be more of the same. After all, middle-aged people weren’t into romance and sex, right?

How wrong he’d been. The night of the date Sharon was as nervous as he’d ever seen her. She’d tried on at least five dresses, including a new one, asking his advice on each one. After the fourth dress he‘d had enough, groaning, “I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, it’s just Andy, he sees you every day.” She’d given him a glare, then turned back to her bedroom muttering, “I knew I should have called Gavin.“ This unsure woman plagued by nerves was someone he didn’t know. It was a side of Sharon he’d never seen before.  The only Sharon he knew was calm, cool, self-confident and decisive.

Later that night he’d been sitting on the couch doing homework when she came home from the date all starry-eyed, like some teenage girl swooning over her latest crush, her fingertips playing over her lips in a way that suggested she was reliving a kiss. That was when it really hit him. When he realized that his mother’s relationship with Andy had taken a dramatic turn and that romantic dating was definitely a whole new ballgame.

And yes, that did make him a bit squeamish. In the three years that he’d lived with Sharon, he’d never seen her in any kind of romantic or sexual relationship. Even when Jack had come to stay for a few days back when they were still married, Sharon had made him sleep on the couch and there had been no affection whatsoever between the two.

So, when Andy had to move in with them temporarily because of a dangerous blood clot in his carotid artery and suddenly his mother was all flirty and giggly and she was cuddling up to him while they watched TV, sharing soft, mushy looks with him and kissing him goodnight, it felt awkward…disconcerting …as if he didn’t know her anymore. Because he’d never seen this side of her. Ever.

Still, when Sharon had explained the seriousness of a clot in the carotid artery and that it could be life-threatening, the cold dread that settled like a weight in his stomach made him realize how much he had come to care about Andy. The idea that he could actually die had scared him enough to offer Andy his bedroom after Sharon had assured him that he would not be sharing her room.

Which was another thing that was really strange.

In the 13 years that he’d spent with his biological mother, he couldn’t ever remember her dating anyone the way that Sharon was dating Andy. No man had ever treated her with the kind of respect that Andy treated Sharon. No man had ever shown up at her door with lavender roses because purple was her favorite color. And certainly, no man had ever taken her out for a night on the town and then gone home without getting the one thing he‘d come to believe every man wanted…to get laid. When his mother met a guy there were no traditional tokens of affection, no dates, it was straight into bed.  

And then, just as he’d grown a little bit more comfortable, things changed yet again. Not too long after Andy’s surgery on the clot had healed enough for him to be able to move back into his home in Valencia, he had taken Sharon away down to Orange County for a weekend at the beach. He wasn’t a dumb kid. He knew what that meant, but he didn’t dwell on it. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. But when she came home from that weekend, she had approached him with a conversation regarding “overnight guests to the condo“. After clarifying that she was not referring to him having overnight guests, it hit him like a ton of bricks. She meant that Andy might start spending the night…in her bedroom this time. Once the initial shock wore off he told her he was happy for her, as she said he should be, but he‘d still felt conflicted about it. He liked Andy, and of course, he wanted his mother to be happy. But…just the idea of them doing that made him shudder. Not so strange, Dr. Joe had later explained, “No child ever thinks of their mother as a sexual being and it certainly isn’t easy coming face to face with the man she is having sex with. Watching a parent fall in love is quite a strange phenomenon that with divorce rates being what they are, more and more kids are having to come to terms with.”

But it was more than that for him, and he couldn't put his finger on why he felt the way that he did. Not until the day that he came home early because he'd had a fight with TJ after having told Sharon he would be out late.

He walked in the door, his mind still on the fight, when he heard a soft, low moan come from the direction of his mother’s bedroom. He paused for a moment, not sure what he’d heard. Then he heard it again, this time with an added sharp cry of pain. The door was wide open to the hall so he had no problem hearing her. With a surge of panic, he started to rush forward, sure that she was injured, but just as he reached the doorway, a deep, harsh male groan brought him up short and he froze. Then he heard it, the telltale thumping of her padded headboard against the wall, the low creaking of the bed and the soft sighs of “Andy…Andy…Andy…“  telling him everything he had to know about what was going on in that room. Mortified, he stormed off toward his own bedroom, the shout of Sharon’s name seeming to reverberate throughout the condo. It was that last cry of completion that caused him to slam the door to his room harder than he’d intended.

He threw himself on his bed fighting waves of nausea, his fists clenched at his sides. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way. His biological mother had slept with dozens of men, even prostituting herself when times were lean. He’d learned to live with it. But dammit, this was different. This was Sharon. His adopted mother was as different as day and night from his biological mother. And he needed it to be that way.

A few minutes later, his mother knocked on his door and entered his room wearing a short silk bathrobe he’d never seen before. Something a woman would wear for a man. Her skin was flushed and he could swear he could smell Andy on her. His stomach roiled. That smell still lived in his nightmares.

“You’re home early,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. He grunted. She brushed a lock of hair back from his face and he flinched. She sighed.

“I’m assuming given the way you slammed your door that you heard us when you got home.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He rolled away.

“Well, I think we need to talk about it. I did warn you that Andy might start spending the night here once in a while.”

“Spending the night is a little different than having to listen to porn.” He felt her tense, saw the little flicker of hurt in her eyes and wished he could take back what he’d just said.

Sharon took a deep breath, trying to regulate her temper.  “Look, Rusty, I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m sorry you had to hear that. If we’d known you were going to be home early, of course, we would have been more discreet. But this is my home and if I want to have Andy stay over; I will. What you heard was not porn it was lovemaking. There’s a difference.”

He gave a derisive snort and rolled his eyes. “Sure there is.”

“Look, I know it had to be awkward to hear us that way, but why is this bothering you so much? Why are you so upset?” She set a hand on his shoulder and he sat up his eyes flashing with anger.

“I guess I just thought you were above all that, okay.”

She flinched, her brow creasing with confusion. “Above it? What do you mean by that? You think I‘m not human?”

Rusty shrugged. “What am I supposed to think? For all the years that I’ve lived with you, you never had a boyfriend until Andy. You didn’t even let your husband sleep with you when he stayed here.”

“Because we were legally separated and that part of our relationship had been over for a very, very long time.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You didn’t need any guy that way. You just always seem so perfect.”

“Oh my God, honey. I am so not perfect. You’re right, in the past few years, I haven’t had any men in my life until Andy. But I am not a saint. I am not a nun. I am a woman. I have needs like any other woman, any other human being.”

He grimaced. “Can we please stop using the word ‘needs’?”

Her lips pursed in an effort to conceal her amusement. “Fine. But I need you to know that I am not perfect, not by any means. Do not put me on a pedestal.”

“A pedestal?”

“Yes. Because you know what happens when you put people on pedestals?”

He shook his head negatively.

“It deprives them of their humanness. It keeps you from seeing them clearly. I have imperfections and flaws. I have challenges and struggles. I have insecurities. And, yes, I’m sorry to say, I have needs. And when you think a person doesn’t have those human qualities, when you think they are above that, it’s dangerous. Because now you’ve created a standard of perfection that no one can live up to and that can only lead to disappointment. The way you’re feeling right now. And that isn’t fair to me, because I have never claimed to be perfect.”

The anger left Rusty’s eyes. “I guess I just never see you that way. You always seem to have everything so together. You always seem to know what to do and what to say.”

“Well, maybe it seems that way. But I have made plenty of mistakes, dear child, and there are times I don’t exactly know what to do or what to say. This is one of them. I’m sorry if hearing Andy and me embarrassed you.”

He shrugged again. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. But, Sharon,” he sat up drawing his knees into his chest. “I don’t get it. You have this great condo, you have a lot of money, a car, you can buy whatever you want, you‘re okay on your own. What do you get out of it?”

She quirked her head to the side, confusion again creasing her brow. “What do I get out of it? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, you don’t have to do it.”

My God, was that really what he thought? “Sex? You’re talking about sex?”

He nodded and her face softened with sympathy.

“Oh, honey. Sex should never be about doing something you don’t want to do just to get something in return. It’s not a transaction, or at least it shouldn’t be.”

He stared at her blandly. He knew he was seriously screwed up when it came to sex. But the one thing he‘d always been sure of was that it was all about quid pro quo, a transaction, as Sharon said. His mother used sex to make money for food and drugs; she used sex as a way to put a roof over their heads by finding a man with an apartment and ingratiating her way into staying with him. She used sex to keep those same men from throwing them out on the street and to keep them from beating her. At the time, it had sickened him and he hated those guys. But then he’d gone and done the very same thing.  He’d sold his body to survive, for food and shelter. And every time he did it, he hated himself more and more. Hated them. Hated their dark, dirty needs. Hated the sounds they made and the smells they left on him. He hated them because they had stolen his childhood, his self-worth and had turned the act of sex into something dark, shameful and degrading.

Sharon continued on gently, “I know that what you went through on the streets has probably warped your views on sexuality but----”

“Mom, I really don’t want to talk about this with you, especially after you‘ve…well,” he gestured toward her attire.

“I know discussing sex with a parent is uncomfortable, I get that. I’ve been through it with your sister and brother. But I want to make sure that you know there is nothing wrong with having sexual needs. All people have them, it’s part of being human. It’s the way people act upon those needs that can twist and pervert them into something ugly and painful”

His chest tightened at the flicker of pain in her eyes, evidence that she too had experienced a darker side to sex.

“Sex, at its best, is not a transactional act. It’s something to be shared, a need to express your love in a physical way, a desire to give your partner pleasure and to accept the pleasure they want to give you in return. Really it’s about sharing the most intimate part of you.” A flush of embarrassment stained Rusty’s cheeks, but Sharon continued on because she was pretty sure this was a conversation he’d never had before and it was important that he understand.

“I don’t sleep with Andy because I feel like I have to be with him that way. I’m with Andy because I want to be. And, I know you may think this sounds corny or old-fashioned, but there really is a difference between sex and making love and one day I hope you will have that experience.”

And so, with that, Andy began spending more and more nights at the condo. Rusty grew used to seeing him come out of Sharon’s bedroom, sometimes in just his boxers, and even seeing him in her bed. It had been quite jarring the first time he’d knocked on their bedroom door, was told to “come in”, and Andy was lying there in bed, Sharon’s head resting sleepily on his bare chest. But now it just seemed normal.

Then, one night during supper, they’d tossed him another curveball. Andy was looking to sell his house in Valencia to find a place closer to theirs in Los Feliz. Okay, no big deal about that. But then, all of a sudden they were talking about moving in together and buying a house together. In an instant, he was that little boy again, sitting on the outside, ignored and forgotten while his mother focused on her new man.

Things had simply never gone well for him when Sharon Beck brought a man into their life. Each time she hooked up with a new guy she would get so wrapped up in him it was like she forgot she even had a son. One day after she‘d moved them in with her latest boyfriend, just to see if she’d notice, he disappeared for two full days. He thought for sure she’d be frantic with worry and would cover him with hugs and kisses when he returned. But when he walked through the door, she hadn’t blinked an eye…because she hadn’t even known he was missing. Had simply assumed he’d been up and off to school each morning. He was 9 years old at the time.

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, because the men his mother hooked up with were usually drug addicts or drug dealers, or sometimes pimps, they were almost always violent. They treated her like dirt and treated him even worse. They beat her and they beat him, and no matter how awful things got she always took their side. And in the end, when Gary the dirtbag got sick of having him around and told her to dump him at the zoo, she had done just that. Nothing in his life would ever hurt more than that betrayal.

Of course he knew that Sharon Raydor was not Sharon Beck, not by a long shot. But when she‘d come to him and said Andy was moving in, all those old feelings had resurfaced, flooding through him in a series of waves. As much as he knew that Andy wasn‘t Gary, that he wasn‘t going to suddenly start knocking him around and that his mother wasn‘t going to get so fixated on Andy she’d forget about him, it was hard to let go of those old feelings. And if he were really examining his emotions, as Dr. Joe made him do, there was something else he was feeling, something Joe told him was a little more expected.

Jealousy.

For four years he’d pretty much had Sharon all to himself. Sure, she had Emily and Ricky and he’d had to work through some of that jealousy when they came home for visits, but they didn’t live close enough to be an everyday presence. And, sure, she had friends that she spent time with, but for the most part, until Andy, her life had pretty much revolved around work and him, especially during the time when his life was being threatened. In the beginning, he’d chafed over what he’d considered her helicopter parenting. For as long as he could remember he’d done whatever he wanted when he wanted and hadn’t had to answer to anyone.

But now, it was different. He liked having a mother who loved and worried about him. Though he wouldn’t admit it to her, it made him feel all warm inside when she immediately placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature when he said he wasn’t feeling well, or asked what time he was coming home when he went out then checked on him to make sure he‘d returned safe and sound, because for the first time in his life he had someone who really cared about him. And he was afraid of losing that.

Because now there was Andy. Andy was part of the decisions she made. That had never been more apparent than when she’d turned down what could have been a dream job for her, head of security for the NFL because it would take away from the time she could spend with Andy and possibly put a strain on their relationship. He had become such a big part of her life, their life; there was no getting around that. And while it hadn’t been an easy transition, he‘d successfully navigated through it all and, before too long he’d come to realize that having Andy around wasn’t so bad after all, even if he did hog the TV watching ESPN every night. His moving in, once Rusty had come to terms with it, had been a good thing in many ways. Now that his mother had a partner, and they were off doing things together, it took some of the focus off him, gave him greater freedom. And, unlike the way his biological mother had brought men into their lives, Sharon, and to be fair, Andy, had both gone out of their way to make sure that everything went along as it normally had and that he still felt included in their lives. It had been a bit awkward at first. At times he felt like a third wheel, unsure if they really wanted him around or if he was in the way. But they kept extending him invitations; to eat meals with them, to watch TV with them, to go out to a movie with them. And Andy played chess and video games with him while his mother still made his favorite meals and worried about him when he was having a bad day. It felt an awful lot like he was finally part of a traditional family.  

But when Andy found a house up in the Hollywood Hills that he thought Sharon might like, the old fears had rushed through him. Was he in the way? Was he cramping their burgeoning relationship? Would Andy want him gone so he could have Sharon all to himself? He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they’d like their own place, a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about him walking in while they were making out on the couch or to have to be quiet when they were doing….other things. He’d expressed some of those fears to Buzz, well, everything but the sexy stuff,  and Buzz had told him to get it all out there with Andy. So, he did. Andy had quickly and forcefully, disabused him of such notions, even chuckling over the idea of what Sharon would do to him if she ever thought he was trying to find a way to get rid of her child. Then, Andy had suggested that he join them to look at the house so they could decide as a family if the house was right for them or not.

A family.

That day had been a changing point. From then on, he’d started to view Andy, not as an interloper, not as the man stealing his mother’s attention, not as the man his mother was sleeping with, but instead, as the man his mother loved and with whom she was sharing her life. A man who had become important to him as well. Andy was someone he could turn to for advice. An ally who was willing to help him navigate through the minefields when his mother was set against something he wanted, and who, conversely, wasn’t afraid to tell him to back off when he felt he was pushing her too hard. He was also an honest, but caring source of information about addiction when it came to his biological mother.

Somehow, over time, Andy had become his father figure, and that bond seemed to grow stronger every day. He didn’t trust many people, but Andy had proven himself trustworthy. And when it came to him as a partner for his mother, Rusty no longer had any reservations. Andy loved his mother, he respected her, and there was no denying that he made her happy. Since he’d come into her life she was so much more light-hearted, she laughed more, she teased more and she was far more relaxed. He liked seeing her that way.

So, by the time Andy came to him hoping for his blessing in asking Sharon to marry him, there had been no hesitance at all in his response. His rather exuberant yes had been a no brainer. Maybe it was because he knew Andy so much better now, or, maybe it was because he was getting more mature, but whatever the reason, none of those old feelings of insecurity had resurfaced when they announced they were indeed getting married. This time there were no red flags warning him of possible disasters, nothing to mar the surprising content he felt over their relationship becoming official and permanent.  

“Earth to Rusty?”

Dr. Joe’s amused voice yanked Rusty out of his trip down memory lane. “Uh, what?”

“I was saying that it wasn’t all that long ago that you had reservations about your mother and Andy.”

“Maybe it wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it was. I can honestly say that I am happy about this marriage. For them. And maybe even for me. “

TBC

[kaylieishere]

AU YEAH August Day 5- Laundromat

Read it on AO3 here

@auyeahaugust

Adrien’s loft wasn’t anywhere near this laundromat. In fact, it was almost a 15-minute drive without traffic. There wasn’t anything special about it. It even cost a bit more than the one on his very own street. But after his best friend had dragged him there one uneventful Friday night, he’d gone back every other week since.

Every other Friday night, Adrien, for the past three months, had gone to the far away laundromat, so he could see her.

Her name was Marinette, her hair was so black that in the right light it shone blue, and her eyes were the shade of a bluebell. That first night he met her, it was luck that Nino knew her. Nino and Marinette had met in college when he went on a couple dates with her best friend.

Adrien did see her other times. Nino and Alya (who had rekindled their short romance thanks to that chance meeting three months ago) liked to drag them out. Their choice spots were a restaurant that Alya was reviewing for her job, or a club that Nino was deejaying for the night. But he only got true one-on-one time on the Friday they did laundry.

Every other Friday, Adrien would pile his laundry into his car and drive 15 minutes away from his closest mat, because it was also when she did hers.

And on that Friday, she was already waiting out front for him.

Her smile was infectious. When he smiled back, he felt as hot as the sun, inside and out. Marinette had more laundry with her than she usually carried.

“Alya is out of town for the weekend on some resort critique mission, so she asked me to do her laundry. Although, I think some of your boy’s things are in here too.” Adrien laughed with her.

The lights in the mat were always so harsh, but they brought out the natural rosiness in her cheeks. She wore her usual laundry day outfit, soft sweat-pant material shorts, and a t-shirt with her college’s logo. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail that swung back and forth hypnotically when she walked.

Adrien had spent most of his life around models and photographers, he knew how much went in to posing a person to hit their angles, how to make someone look beautiful. Marinette didn’t need ring lights, or a photographer yelling at her to turn her head just so. The more time Adrien spent with her, the more he saw just how perfect she was, all on her own.

------------

Normally they weren’t at the mat this long. It usually took about an hour and a half, but with the added basket of Alya’s clothes, it was stretching into two hours. Marinette was looking tired, her blue eyes drooping half-lidded when they went too long without talking.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get these both back to my apartment.” She stared down at the two offending stacked full baskets. “I brought everything down in one bag… How am I supposed to carry two full baskets? I probably should have planned better, huh?” There was a slight peachy blush on her cheeks.

“I can help.” Adrien’s face was bright red, even up to the tips of his ears.

“What?” She looked at him hopefully, her blue eyes shining brightly.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “I can put my basket in my car- and then help you carry these.”

Alya and Marinette lived right across the street and up some stairs. He’d only been in their place once before. If the gang was going to hang anywhere for a night, it was Nino’s penthouse.

The girls’ place looked cozy and comforting. Dim lamps, a plush couch, and indoor plants filled the space. Gauzy curtains lifted on a breeze from the juliet balcony that looked out on the courtyard. It was the middle of summer and the warm air added another touch to the welcoming space.

She offered him a beer. It would just be plain rude to turn it down. They sat across from each other at a small two-person dining table. Marinette took a pull on her beer.

“You know, Adrien Agreste,” her eyes shone brightly, a fire burning within them, “I don’t know too much about you. I feel like we’re always talking about me. My childhood, college years, my apprenticeship. We need to talk about you more.” She tipped her beer toward him, before taking another sip.

“I like talking about you.”

They both blushed.

“I’m an open book,” he said, crossing his legs, and then uncrossing them. Adrien didn’t actually know how to look casual when he was feeling anything but.

Marinette took another, slow pull. “Alright…” she tapped her chin with her bottle, “why did you quit modeling?”

“Because I never wanted to do it in the first place. When your dad is in fashion at the level mine is, your course is kind of decided for you.”

“Well, my parents own a bakery, but I never felt like that’s what I had to do.”

“Yours didn’t force you into it either.” She nodded at that, her pretty mouth settling into a frown. “Your parents actually cared about your interests. Still do, I bet.”

Instead of answering, she pressed on with another question. “What do you want to do? With your life, I mean.”

Adrien went quiet, contemplating the idea of picking his own future. When he left modeling at the age of 21, his father had been disappointed. But he wasn’t as bad as he could be (like say, in an alternate universe), so he let Adrien have control of his trust fund and had another account that was fed his pay from old ads and royalties.

He’d spent the past four years catching up to most of his peers in experiences. He met Nino and jumped in to the party scene, only to jump right back out shortly after. There was no niche he found comfort in. Except for the every other Friday night laundry one.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “College might be something to consider. Or travelling. I’ve wondered about taking up photography.”

“That could be really fun. You could take a photography class and see how it feels.”

Adrien nodded along.

They talked about that possibility for a long time. Marinette was running her fingertip along the lip of her empty beer bottle. Adrien was admiring the way her lips curved when she smiled and the tiny wrinkles at the edge of her eyes from when she laughed.

But her out of the blue question made his heartbeat stutter and his palms sweat.

“Why do you come all the way over to this laundromat?”

“Wh-what?” he choked out. His hand instinctively went to the nape of his neck.

She gave him a small, knowing smile. “Nino told me you drive 15 minutes over here every other Friday, even though there’s a mat down your street.” She licked her lips. They were as rosy as her cheeks. If they hadn’t been having this long-dreaded conversation he would have wanted to kiss her.

Actually, he always wanted to kiss her.

“Um, well…” he floundered.

“You know,” she shifted in her seat, leaning onto the table, folding her arms. Under the table, her legs gently bumped his. “You know, Alya thinks that you drive all this way because you like me.” Adrien’s mouth was dry. Their eyes met, complete silence engulfing them. Then she tapped her bottle on the tabletop.

“Nino says that our mat might be cheaper than yours.” Her lips curved delicately upward, into a smug smile he had never seen before. Marinette looking smug was definitely something he could get used to. “So, which is it?”

He couldn’t take too long to think, or she’d know he was covering something up. His eyes scanned the table, looking for something to distract her or give him time to process what was happening. Adrien grabbed up their bottles and took them into the kitchen. Not looking into her alarmingly blue eyes, he could finally think.

Telling Marinette he had feelings for her could mean he’d never be able to see her again, not without feeling like a complete idiot anyway. It would also mean less time with Nino. But if he straight up lied? There was no way he could ever forgive himself if he lied to her, especially when it came to how he felt about her.

Adrien took a deep breath. “I don’t drive 15 minutes to this laundromat because it’s cheaper. It’s actually more expensive than mine. I drive all the way over here because… because I want to spend time with you. Just you.”

The apartment was uncomfortably quiet. But the sound of his blood beating through his head and past eardrums was nauseating.

Her voice was suddenly right next to him. She must have snuck up on him. “What does that mean?”

He looked down at her. Marinette wasn’t too much shorter than him, but in that moment, she looked so small, all he wanted was to hold onto her until she was smiling again.

“It means,” another steadying breath, “that I spend hours of my life at a laundromat because nothing means more to me than spending an hour and a half with you, every other week. I would trade that time for alone time in an instant, if it meant all the rest of my time could be taken up by you.” Adrien gently set his hand on her warm cheek. Touching her had his whole body feeling steadier. “I drive to see you every other Friday, because from the first moment I saw you, I was totally in love with you.”

A breath escaped her. Then Marinette launched herself into his arms. Her lips crushed his in a fervor, desperately trying to convey how much she loved him back.

They kissed for what felt like an eternity before Marinette pulled back from him. Their lips tingled, their hands felt numb, but both were grinning like absolute fools.

“You know,” she said again, her voice raspy and a delicate hand reaching up to tangle into his blonde locks, “I used to do my laundry on Tuesdays. But for some reason, during that first week, I happened to have put off my laundry day, and you asked me if I did my laundry on Fridays and I nodded because you seemed nervous and I couldn’t figure out why, but it made me smile. You said that was great because you could use the company when you did laundry. So, my laundry day found its way down the week. I knew from the first moment too, Adrien.”

He chuckled, glad to know he wasn’t the only one love-sick.

Then they kissed again. And again. And for a long time after that.

[herelaymythoughts]

Loneliness X Patterns

Something I’ve noticed recently is how easily humans can get used to something. When my washer first broke down I dreaded going to the laundromat so much that I took a chance on the broken washer and had to physically scoop out the water that wouldn’t drain with tupperware and made a massive mess. It’s only been two or three times but now I’m quite alright with the prospect of and even actually going to the laundromat. 

Yesterday I called my grandma and she told me that my grandpa, who’s one of the shittier human beings in my family, in an attempt to help her clean out her phone had deleted every single photo in her album. My grandma isn’t someone who complains much, but I could tell that she was quite upset. I told her that he needed to apologize, so she took the phone to my grandpa. Of course, being the shit stain of a human being that he is, he lashed out and proclaimed all, yes, the entirety of my grandma’s photos, “useless crap”. I started crying because my grandma deserves better and I deserve better yet she puts up with my grandpa and I put up with men who don’t deserve a single crumb of me. I also cried because I wondered how she is able to stay sweet, and optimistic, and love life despite needing to live with such an imbecile. 

Today I realized that I have embodied loneliness. And not just me, but my mother and father too. They live separate lives on different continents. They don’t seek out temporary pleasures from others. They go to sleep and wake up every single night of their lives alone. So too, do I. 

Two nights ago, for the first night, I woke up next to somebody. Somebody who reminded me deeply of my first love. The way they both would cling to me, both would rest their heads on my bosom. The way they both refused to let me go. I didn’t realize that that was a simple pleasure that many get to experience each day. Two nights ago before he came over I saw the Toronto Symphony Orchestra perform Tchaikovsky, and I wondered how many people in that audience went to sleep alone, how many people went to sleep partnered. How many people in the world go to sleep alone, go to sleep partnered, go to sleep partnered yet feel alone? 

For the first time in my life I feel sick of being single. I don’t want to be single anymore. I don’t want to have no attachments, be able to uproot my life like that. I want to have roots, and ties, and people I care about and plants I must organize plans for if I move. I want to take into consideration someone else’s job and life. I am tired. I want foot and head massages and belly rubs and being hugged from behind. It’s not even sexual. I have no desire to masturbate, not even thinking about the person who inspired this post. I just want to touch and be touched, kiss and be kissed, held and be held, caressed and be caressed. Loneliness, or rather for me, recognition of loneliness really was such a dangerous drug, for it made me ready to risk it all, settle for the partner equivalent of a canal street Michael Kors for companionship, for touch, for kisses. 

–

Ah, yes, look, there it is. I’m back in my comfort zone. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, the fix is here. On tumblr. Writing about a man whom you know 4 things about. Listening to sad songs. Weight dropped in your stomach. This is the shit. 

Honestly Dean, you served your purpose. A connection was formed, one strong enough to have me obsess over it a little so that I could formulate this reality in my mind where I am ok. And then disappointingly, predictably, and with thorough warning, the ending we both knew would happen occurs, and I get really sad. I take myself back into my comfort zone. Where I am melancholic. So so very melancholic. 

[onfyexo]

Laundromat - Tom Holland x Reader Series

Warnings: angst (kinda), mentions of substance abuse metaphorically, language 

Ohhh shiiett! This may or may not be the last part of this little series! Read this and let me know if I should continue or leave it up to you’re own interpretation :’))

Part 4 - the feeling of withdrawal has such an effect on you and meanwhile, Tom keeps thinking about you after the departure

*Tom is in bold

https://soundcloud.com/ginsengxx/shes-in-my-dreams

-

On your drive back home, it was hard to focus on the road with the thoughts rushing through your mind. You had already slammed your head against the steering wheel once you saw Tom pull out of the parking lot first. You felt dumb, you felt stupid, yet you felt lucky and honored to have been in his presence; hence why you beat yourself up physically and mentally.

Driving seemed dangerous to you because of you. You definitely didn’t want to be anywhere else but home from then on. The feeling of withdrawal from Tom felt like a drug. You had injected yourself with his charisma and wanted to live off of his high forever; you didn’t care if you overdosed on him.

It took the strength you had to pull all your baskets out and carry them inside the house. And when you realized that Tom had touched the exact handles minutes earlier, you wanted to scream.

How am I supposed to get through the rest of the week after what just happened?

You debated whether or not you should call in “sick” for work tomorrow. You also debated whether or not you should post on social media about your bizarre encounter but you didn’t want others to disturb him if he came back to that same laundromat. Crowds of people could be waiting for him the next time he came and he would immediately feel let down and betrayed.

So many decisions and so many choices were open for you and yet, they all made you seem like a psycho. You could be that person who posted “I JJST FUCKSK MET TOM HOLLAND” on Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr. But in all honesty, you were still trying to catch your breath.

The only action you could do once you stepped foot in your flat was plop on your bed and think about him to no end. You switched between multiple sleeping positions but nothing felt good enough. Sleeping in Tom’s arms felt so much better to you at the moment.

The tears came soon after and they were because of the love you felt. And you wondered if Tom would forget about you after today. Considering how busy he is, you were sure of it.

There’s no way he would even think about me after this?

But you would be surprised at what Tom was actually doing. Him on the other hand, kept replaying your facial expressions in his head while driving.

Damn. He thought.

His knuckled clasped his steering wheel hard; turning pale in the process. He had to tell Harrison about this while they went out to eat. Maybe talking with his best mate would help him decide if he should try and see you again.

They were going to a simple restaurant that was downtown. But first he had to change his clothes.

The same images flashed through him but he didn’t get tired of it. The way you looked at him intrigued him. The way you spoke to him intrigued him. The way you acted intrigued him.

He was actually glad that he had a certain place to remember you by if he was never able to see you again. He felt silly for praising a laundromat in his head but “oh fucking well” he thought.

-

“Shit dude! I didn’t even get their number or anything!”

Harrison was really surprised Tom was distressed over something like this. He witnessed his best friend stuttering every other word and having trouble picking up his food with a fork which shouldn’t even be that difficult. He could tell Tom was struck over with attachment in the most eccentric way.

“Tom listen to me, that was just today that you met them. And what if they were weirded out by you wanting to exchange numbers anyways!” Harrison exclaimed, trying to calm down his brother but to no avail.

“Ugh, I could tell they knew me.  They called me beautiful for fucks sake!”

“Wait! They said that?” Harrison almost choked on his drink while listening intently with caution.

“Yes man! I’ve never seen anything like it. And I want to keep seeing it, I don’t care.” Tom huffed with so much force and let his head fall in shame. His appetite wasn’t as strong as it usually was for today and he wondered if you were the cause. The tone of his voice had changed from excitement to tell a story, to anxiety that made him want to drop everything.

“I don’t know man. I guess you could can try and catch them next week. Maybe they go the same day every week and since today’s Sunday, do it next Sunday.”

Harrison felt sympathy for Tom and hoped his advice was meaningful. But Tom was treading on thin ice, and if he wanted to go farther than friendship with you, he would have to realize his risks. He would only wait until later to warn Tom if you were actually there again next week.

The rest of the brunch was silent except for when the server checked up on the two boys.

~

You had proceeded through your week semi-normal. You decided not to call in for work and push through everything. Daydreaming became more frequent though, and this damaged your coordination; even your co-workers and classmates could tell.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t driven past the laundromat every other morning, hoping to see your russet-eyed boy. His Audi was nowhere to be found each time you checked so you gave up and concluded that his washer machine and dryer were just temporarily broken or not even installed yet.

Tom had continued on with his week in a clumsy fashion. He lost his train of thought more than ever. And practicing his scripts for upcoming films was a challenge. He found himself re-reading the same lines in a row before cursing at himself; causing Tessa to stir and look up at him with confusion.

He was aware that a friendship could blossom if he kept in contact. He knew you would open up to him, he just had to be gentle with you. You were a treasured delicacy to him and he didn’t care if he had to hear yapping from Harrison if he went further with you in the future.

Next Sunday approached fast for you and slow for Tom. The same routine started again with your laundry. You had gathered your color-coordinated clothes and coins for the day.

The feeling of dread was present again, not only because a lot of people could be there, but because Tom might not be there. You would for sure keep going even after today.

I guess I shouldn’t give up.

While putting your baskets inside your car, you realized how beautiful dawn seemed today. With sunrise approaching, the vermillion tones and flushed shades of pink covered the sky above you. It calmly put you at ease while you drove to the same place you met Thomas.

It sucked that you didn’t have anyone to share this dilemma with. If you did tell anyone, you didn’t trust them enough to not spread the word. The last thing you wanted, was for Tom to never come back here again if a mass of people kept showing up just for him.

On the other end, Tom needed Harrison’s assistance for today in order to make this chance work. Since he didn’t actually need any of his clothes washed, he asked Harrison to drop him off anyways and just wait for him in case you weren’t there. Harrison didn’t have a problem with it and met Tom at his place at 6 am.

“Tom are sure you need to be up this early?” Harrison questioned, using one hand to steer and the other to accentuate his concern.

“I'm positive! They got here around 6 the last time and that's what time it opens.”

“Alrighttt. I’ll just wait in the parking lot.” Harrison sighed while turning left to see the laundromat in the distance.

Tom began sitting abnormally in the passenger seat when he saw that your car was nowhere to be seen. His eyes grew wide and the expression of sadness was apparent on his face.

“Fuck dude fuck. I don’t see her car” He stammered with tension as he pointed in the distance where you car could’ve been.

Strings of curse words exited Tom’s mouth the closer he got and Harrison took it all in with worry. Tom kept taking off his baseball cap and putting it back on in the course of a minute to wipe the perspiration forming on his forehead.

“You’re really losing it man.” Harrison exhaled while finally pulling into a parking spot.

“I guess I’ll just wait for a little bit and come back ok?”

“Ok man, don’t stress about it. It won’t be the end of the world.” Harrison reassured with pat on the back and decided to pull his seat back and sleep while he waited since it was so early.

Tom got out of the passenger seat before scanning the area in case he saw you arriving in the distance.

Once he rubbed his sweaty palms on the side of his jeans, he opened the door and took a seat. Luckily, no one was there again and the familiar smell of detergent soothed his senses. No other sound was present except for the manager watching a sitcom yet again in his office.

You felt frustration build up when you saw a car in the parking lot that wasn’t Tom’s. It was a simple sedan that you had never seen before and if it was someone other than him, you would honestly scream.

The windows were too tinted to see anything so you trusted your gut that maybe it was only one person inside. You had gathered all your baskets that were stacked high in front of you.

Using your hand to balance the baskets and the other to open the door, you entered and heard definite silence at first. No machines were running and only the muffled tv in the background could be heard.

“(Y/N)?!”

That same accented voice you were acquainted with, filled your ears faster than you could gather yourself. Goosebumps formed at his vocalization filled with excitement while cold sweat covered your neck and back underneath your clothing.

Instead of simply placing your baskets down to see him, you dropped them with carelessness and saw Tom rising from his seat with the widest smile. His fair-skin met your eyes and his ivory teeth hit you with electricity that made you smile back with just as much intensity. There was more stubble around his mouth and there was discoloration around the bags in his eyes but you never doubted how beautiful he looked to you. Not once.

Rushing at each other in a tight embrace felt like the fantasies you came up with had realism in the deepest parts.

“T-Tom! It feels so good to see you again”

“I can definitely say the same sweetheart. I’ve missed you...” There was relief, passion, and tranquility in the words he spoke and he wanted you to feel his longing.

He missed me? Thomas Stanley Holland missed me.

To think you would be hugging Tom in a laundromat was something you wanted to carry along with you with utmost joy.

-

Part 1 - https://bangtanscope.tumblr.com/post/172785019225/laundromat-tom-holland-x-reader-series-mini

Part 2 - https://bangtanscope.tumblr.com/post/172810255305/laundromat-tom-holland-x-reader-series-warnings

Part 3 - https://bangtanscope.tumblr.com/post/172837117775/laundromat-tom-holland-x-reader-series-warnings

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