#is it a tragedy of his messed up childhood? yeah. is he content with it? Yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingtomura · 7 months ago

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Deja Vu | 2 | The Girl Who Cried Wolf

summary: Your best friend died years ago. He went up in flames until there was nothing left... so why does it feel like you can still see him sometimes? content: touya todoroki x female reader, childhood friends au, reader has a quirk, childhood memories, flashbacks, fluff, heavy angst, soft touya, hurt/comfort, tragedy, virginity loss, vaginal fingering, piv, smut with feelings, mdni wc: 9.2k | Prev | Chapter 3 | m. list | read on ao3

You’ve never been good at hide-and-seek.

“Touya,” you yell into the crisp air of the forest, “this isn’t funny!” You’ve been at this for what feels like forever and it’s just not working.

You can’t find him.

The wind was chilling you to the bone and it was almost dinner time. This was becoming more and more pointless as the minutes ticked by. You just wanted to find him so you both could go eat.

“Okay, well if you’re not gonna come out then I don’t wanna play anymore!” You shout, fully ready to turn tail and get out of there.

You hear a groan from the bushes and Touya emerges, his hair now white on one side and red on the other.

“You’re no fun.” He chides. “What are you gonna do when you have to find a villain?”

“I’ll find them, of course! But not on an empty stomach.” You huff, just glad that he’s stopped messing around and you can both head back now.

You are both six years old and Touya’s passion for becoming the number one hero burns brighter each passing day. You can only imagine what the coming years will be like.

Touya stood up fully, brushing the residual snow from his pants, forever unbothered by the cold. “Right… whatever you say.”

In that moment your stomach growls and Touya raises a brow.

Frustration makes itself known again as you stomp your foot in the white snow, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “We were at this for so long! I’m tired. And cold.”

“You’re always cold.” He muses, walking towards you and taking your hand.

You shrug, ducking your nose into your scarf to avoid being called Rudolph again, as Touya loves to do. Instead, you try to focus on the warmth of his hand in yours. “And you’re always warm.”

Touya hums, leading you both back to his home that was nearby. His mother promised to make Udon tonight and it was all you could think about.

“You know, you haven't said much about your new baby brother.” You start, tilting your head to get a better look at him, he always seemed more tense when going towards the home.

His tense features smooth out at the mention of his new sibling, brows softening and a smile sliding onto his face. “Oh, yeah. Well he doesn’t do much yet. He can’t talk or anything. He’s trying, but he’s kind of a potato.”

The comment makes you laugh, and you watch as fresh, new snowflakes make their way down from the sky, landing in Touya’s hair and your jacket. It’s at this moment you decide that winter is your favorite season.

The way Touya squeezes your hand brings you back to the present, the warmth making your heart dance. “But, I can't wait until he does talk. I bet he’ll be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” You agree, “But you have to make sure you set a good example for him. Or else he’ll be the cool brother, you know.”

Touya scoffs, brows furrowing in irritation that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I know that! I’m always cool…”

You mutter a soft sure as your best friend’s home comes into view.

Udon was so close, you could almost taste it.

“Race you there!” Touya shouts, dropping your hand and taking off, effectively leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” You try to catch up, but the headstart he had over you was too great, and you end up last — much to your dismay. Touya was already inside and kicking his shoes off by the time you made it in. “You cheated!”

The boy only shrugs, removing his coat and putting it away, “If you wanna be a hero you have to always be alert, that’s what dad says anyway.”

You follow suit, kicking off your shoes and jacket, and running to greet his mother. It was perfect timing, you noted, as Rei had only just begun placing piping hot bowls of Udon down at the table for all of you.

“Hi, Fuyumi!” You greet watching her emerge from further into the home. She returns with a wave, taking her place at the table.

There was no time to waste as you dig into the soup, enjoying the way it warmed your insides from the cool air outside.

“And where have you two been all day?” Rei questions, tone neutral and patient. It’s at this moment you notice the overheated head of the household was not present for dinner. It's something you cannot say that you mind, given how tense the air is when the man does come around.

“We were out playing hide and seek.” Touya supplied through a mouthful of noodles.

Rei looks skeptical, resting her chin on her hand as she watched her son. “Just playing hide and seek, Touya? No extra training?”

The boy stops, watching his mother before taking a sip of his water, “Maybe a little bit of training…”

“Touya.”

“What?” He asks, growing aggravated at the woman's pestering. You could only watch as the interaction went on, trying to enjoy your Udon as best you could.

“I told you not to push yourself today. It’s already hard enough to get your father to give you an off day, at least enjoy it by not overdoing it.”

“I wasn’t overdoing it! It’s fine, okay?” His frustration is growing and you begin to shift in your seat, unsettled by the conversation. It wasn’t the first time Rei had scolded Touya about quirk training, but it always ended the same — no progress on the topic being made.

Rei sighs, the stresses of her day to day beginning to catch up with her. “I just don’t want you to overdo it. I want you to enjoy being a child too, Touya. Just have fun sometimes.”

“But I do have fun — all the time!”

She’s tired, you can tell by the bags lining her eyes and the unkept status of her hair. Your mom looks like this too, on the days her job runs over and she has to come home late. Maybe all moms look this way, you ponder as you down the rest of your soup.

“Listen, I know you want to get stronger, but you’ve been turning up hurt more often than not. At least hold off until the doctor's appointment.”

You watch as Touyas brows scrunch and his lips turn down in a frown. You know that look very well. He's upset. “What? That’s dumb! I won’t be the best if I let a few burns stop me.”

“Touya…” Rei looks like Touya, you realize in this moment, a near carbon copy of her son the way her features mirror his own. “It’s just for a little while, okay? Not forever.”

He scoffs, done with the conversation and Rei only looks on. “Whatever.”

That’s the end of the conversation, sending dinner into a deep silence with tension crowding the air.

By the end of dinner, you are more than ready to head to bed, quick to finish your nightly duties and prepare for bed.

You try to bite back a yawn as you slide the door to the bedroom open, it is futile and you feel the tears pull at the corners of your eyes — signaling that it was time for bed.

Touya was already clad in his pajamas and currently rolling out the extra futon for you to sleep on. It was a soft white and blue and you wasted no time getting under the blankets.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep yet.” Your best friend whined, arms crossed and judging stare watching you make yourself comfortable.

You sit up, meeting his eyes with a raised brow. “‘M not. Just getting comfy.”

“Yeah, sure.” He stops, dropping his eyes to his lap, lost in thought. “Do you think she was right?”

“Hm? Who?”

Touya sucks his teeth, eye roll not directed at you, but his frustration. “My mom. When she said that I train too much.”

“Oh,” you didn’t think so. You were sure how much Touya trained with his father, but you knew it was never anything extensive when it was only you two together. There was no way that was considered too much. “No, I don't think you do.”

He smiles, and you feel like you’ve made the right call. “Good! I just want to be strong. I don’t see why she doesn’t get that. She says I'll end up hurting myself. But when I get burned it’s only a little bit.”

“Yeah, when I use my quirk too much my head will start to hurt really bad and my nose bleeds a little, but it goes away after a while.” You bring a hand to your nose, thankful there was no metallic smell lingering from the last time you used your quirk.

“The burns go away too! I knew you would understand.” He smiles, and then focuses on you, tone serious. “Hey, let's make a promise, then.”

This piques your interest. “What kind of promise?”

“That we’ll both keep trying to get strong. We can look after each other so we won't push too hard. Promise?” He holds out his fist with his pinky extended. His eyes are vivid within the dark room, the cerulean blue filled with a boyish determination that makes your mind rush and your heart flutter.

It's so quiet, the hushed whispers between you two make this feel more like a secret than a promise, and maybe in some ways it is. A secret that binds you both to each other, one that is in its own a safety net and a comfort when you need it most.

You reach back, interlocking his pinky with yours. “I promise.”

He brings it forward, pulling you towards him just a little. Touya kisses the exposed part of your pinky, and you bring his closer to do the same.

The deal was sealed. Promise made.

The sound of footsteps pulled you both from your steely gaze and towards the door. Touya's eyes widened, knowing you both were not supposed to be awake at this hour. You lock eyes and both duck down, covering yourselves with the blankets and feigning sleep.

It was just in time as the door to the room slid open, a wandering Rei glancing around the now still room. She stood there for a moment — muttering about how she could have sworn she heard voices — before turning to leave, door sliding shut and footsteps trailing back to her side of the home.

Both you and Touya tried as best you could to keep your snickers and laughs down, even going as far as slapping a hand over his mouth and yours to silence the noises. Only once there were no more sounds of footsteps did you release your hold on him, bringing an index finger to your mouth to shush him further.

“Okay,” Touya whispered into the quiet of the room, his voice carrying despite the honest effort to be silent, “we have to go to bed, for real this time.”

“Yeah.” You nod, trying your best to bite back a smile. You were sure the both of you were the only two people awake in the world right now. No one else but you, him in the pale moonlight — with the stars tagging along, sneaking into the space and lighting up the dim room, eavesdropping on your hushed laughs and promises.

“Goodnight,” he breathes, no more than a whisper.

“Goodnight, Touya.”

—--------------------

You wake with a start, body sitting straight up in bed as your chest heaved. Your eyes darted left and right but all you could see was the familiar posters along the walls of your bedroom.

Your bedroom?

“Oh, I see you’re awake.”

Your head snaps to the voice, honey sweet and always familiar. Your mother stood at your door, leaning against the dark wood of the doorframe and giving you a look that made a pit form in your stomach. You clench the cotton of your bed's comforter, the fabric anchoring you to the room.

“You’ve been out for a while.” She continues when she realizes you won’t speak. And what could you say? That you chased your dead best friend in the forest and overused your quirk to catch him? It sounds ridiculous.

So, you bring the words to your mouth and try to give her a response. Even if it’s a small, insignificant one.

“Have I?” The words feel dry and heavy on your tongue, like you haven’t spoken in days. Maybe you haven’t.

Your mother nods, taking your response as consent to come further into your room. Her steps are soft, as if any loud noise would scare you off or make you shut down. It’s hard to look away from her worried gaze, so you don’t.

You watch as she makes her way over, sitting down on your bed and the look she gives you makes your chest ache.

The somber aura in her eyes brings you no comfort.

“What were you doing out there?” She skips to the point, not wasting another minute. It’s like the question has been running through her head for a while now.

Your eyes fall to your fists clutching the bedsheets.

What could you say?

“I…” You swallow, the worst she could do was not believe you. “I saw something in the forest.”

Your mother shifts on the bed, turning to look at you head on. “What did you see?”

There was no way she wouldn’t think you were crazy, but you had to try.

“Touya. I swear I saw him.” Your eyes meet hers and you wished they hadn’t. The look of sorrow is now replaced with something much worse. Pity.

“Sweetie…”

You inhale, tears blurring your vision and you knew this would happen. “Don’t! It was him — I know it was.”

“I'm not saying it wasn’t.” She defends, bringing a hand up in surrender. “I’m just worried about you. You know what the doctors told you about your quirk.”

The quirk. You didn’t even think about that.

Too caught up in the possibility of seeing Touya again.

Your mother sighs, “You’ve been out for three days. Three. You can’t blame me for being worried about you — or upset.”

And you don’t.

Three days is a long time. You reach a hand up, taking note of the bandages wrapped around your head. You’re not even sure how you ended up back in your room.

“Just… Remember what the doctors said.” And you do remember! But it was an emergency. One that you couldn’t risk letting pass you by. She speaks again, her voice stern. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You sit there in silence, taking her words in. The heavy tears on your lower lids fall, dampening the blanket in droplets.

“It’s around that time of year again, I know. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. As a mother I wish I could protect you from this kind of hurt.” She stops, voice wavering as her own eyes grew glossy. “But it’s also why I can’t risk losing you either.”

You want to say something, anything to make her stop. It’s not the same.

“I don’t doubt that you saw something, but I want you to understand that it was late at night, and you’re still grieving.”

Your jaw is starting to ache from how hard you’re clenching your teeth — fury below the surface of your frustration.

Of course she doesn’t believe you.

Why would you be foolish enough to think she would?

She sighs, the lecture coming to an end. “Don’t destroy yourself for this, okay?” Your mother reaches out and covers your exposed hand with her own. It takes everything in you not to snatch it away.

“Promise me, please.”

You meet her eyes, the sorrow swimming in them makes you feel like you’re drowning, so you do the only thing you can think of — you nod, and agree.

“I promise.”

And you do. It won’t destroy you to find out the truth. You’ll be okay and intact. No promises will be broken, not again.

You go out to the forest that night. Even though your head is still wrapped in bandages and you get dizzy if you turn your head a little too fast — you still go. You have to.

It’s eating you up and you have to be sure you weren't hallucinating.

Your mother has been keeping a close eye on you. She’s so worried, not only about your physical health but your mental health as well. And you don’t blame her. To have her only daughter fall out in the forest and wake up claiming to see her dead best friend? It’s worrisome, but you know better.

You wave the flashlight in your hand, backtracking your steps in the forest.

It's fruitless, due to the fresh fallen snow and lack of footprints. But that doesn’t deter you. You know he was here, he had to be.

After what felt like an hour of a search, you decide to turn back, knowing there would be no point as the snowfall increased. It would eventually make things harder to see and you would rather not get stuck in a snowstorm.

Fuyumi won’t say it out loud but she is worried about you.

She’s worried you have finally gone off the deep end and you are too far gone to be brought back to shore.

“Fuyumi, I know what I saw. It was him — I swear!” You pleaded, knowing how you must sound.

She knows how much you love Touya, and how devastated you were, but what she doesn’t understand is what you mean when you say you saw him.

Her eyes were filled with sadness and …pity. The same pity that’s been haunting you for days now. “I believe you saw something. I don’t want to shut you down, it’s just… I know how your quirk is. I know what happens if you overuse it. It could have been in your mind right before you went out.”

You scoff in shock, eyes wide and disbelieving of what you’re hearing. Of all people you thought Fuyumi would understand, or at least hear you out.

She doesn't understand. She wouldn’t understand.

You shake your head, eyes downcast as you fight the familiar burn of tears in your eyes, muttering under your breath, “I know what I saw.”

Those were his eyes. It was his nose and his hair. It was Touya.

This doesn’t stop her from trying to comfort you, bringing that familiar hand to your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. What would usually feel like a comfort is now a vice, suffocating you as you drown is the reality around you.

No one will believe a word you say.

“Maybe,” she starts, words careful and gentle, knowing you were as fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any sudden movement. “Maybe Touya is watching over you in some way. Like a guardian angel.”

The warm tears fall now, unable to be held back by your crumbling will.

“I know how hard it is, really, I do. But I want you to know that you’re not alone, okay?” You can feel Fuyumi’s gaze on you, silently pleading for you to look up, look at her, but you won't. You can’t. You know what you saw and it doesn’t matter if anyone believes you.

You would never stop looking for Touya.

Fuyumi lets you go and it feels like you can breathe again. She has become such a good friend over the years, second best to Touya, but it’s not the same.

You go to stand, having had enough of crying for one week and she stops you.

“Wait, I don’t want you to go! At least stay for dinner with us. Does your mom work late tonight?”

You nod, she usually does on Fridays.

“Then it’s settled. Stay over, let's watch movies or something.” She falters, eyes to the floor as she bites her bottom lip, “I don’t want to be alone, either.”

Something in your heart tugs and you agree, moving to join her once more in the living room.

Fuyumi may not understand, but she was still your close friend. “Okay, but I get to choose the movie, though.”

And she smiles.

For now, you would be okay.

—----------------------

“It’s so stupid!”

There’s a flash of fire and a tree goes up in flames. Touya is upset.

“It’s just not fair.”

“I know…” You drag, hating when he got this way. “But it’s what they told me.”

“That means we can’t be heroes together anymore!”

The wave of sadness you feel makes your head hurt and eyes water. “I know… I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, they told me I had to stop training, too. Dad said he wouldn’t do it anymore because I hurt myself. You know what I say to that? Who cares! We can be strong if we want to. It's not fair.”

You know it’s not fair.

You are seven years old when the doctors tell you that you cannot continue to use your quirk.

Telekinesis is not only rare, but it is dangerous. Not just to you, but to others around you. The doctors were very clear about what would happen if you lost control or if you overexerted yourself.

The consequences could be devastating.

But quirks are such an important part of one’s life and for them to tell you to just not use them? It’s unheard of.

It also doesn’t help that Touya has another sibling on the way. One that his father is eerily excited about.

“Do you remember our promise?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You nod, knowing the promise is something you could never forget.

“Well, I think it's more important than ever now. If they dont want us to do it, then we just shouldn’t tell them.” There is a determined purpose in his voice as he turns to face you, committed eyes meeting yours.

“I don’t know, Touya. That sounds like lying.”

“It’s not if you don’t say anything.” He insists, tone even.

Your gaze falls to the ground, watching as the wind blows the leaves along the snow. It’s like their own secret dance. Your promise is beginning to feel more like a secret dance as well.

“Look,” Touya starts, walking towards you and capturing your attention once more, “I swear, if anything happens, I’ll just say I did it.”

You shake your head, brows furrowed in confusion and fists clenched, “No! Then you would get in trouble, and what if we can’t hang out anymore? We can be in this together, Touya.”

He smiles, soft and sweet. Your dedication relaxes him more than he thought it would.

His warm hands are on your face again, warming your cheeks and the butterflies that have been living in your stomach go wild again. You absently wonder if you should tell your mother about it.

“Your nose is all red again, Rudolph.” He says before bringing you closer and brushing his nose against yours.

You were sure if your face got any warmer you would probably explode.

Touya carries on, walking away from you and further into the forest. You trail behind, even though you knew this part of it well, you still didn’t want to run the risk of getting lost.

“Where are we going?” Your voice carries in this part of the woods, and it sounds more like a shout.

“I found this cool spot the other day! Let me show you.”

Confident as always, Touya trails through and you speed up to chase him.

Now you're sure your face is red, but he doesn't mention it again.

“It’s down here.” Touya points and there’s a drop to get to the area.

It only takes a jump and he lands on his feet — he makes it look so easy, but you know he’s probably gotten a lot of practice and put himself in positions more dangerous than this.

There’s that doubt in the forefront of your mind again, the fear that makes you hesitate. “I don’t like heights, Touya.”

“It’s okay! C’mon, I’ll catch you. It’s just a little further.” He’s reassuring as he holds out his arms.

Always fearless Touya.

You trust him, and it’s all you can think as you close your eyes and give yourself a little running start and then jump.

There’s a ringing in your ears again and you don’t feel his arms right away, instead you feel light. As light as a feather as you drift down to the ground.

The lack of impact makes the fear ebb away as you open your eyes. There’s Touya, arms out and waiting as he watches you with widened eyes filled with wonder.

You’ve somehow activated your quirk and slowed your own fall. You absently think that it almost feels kind of fun, the way you softly land in Touya’s waiting arms.

“Whoa,” he starts, eyes never leaving yours. “You looked like an angel or something.”

You don’t know why, but the comparison makes your cheeks flush as you fight for a way to respond.

Nothing comes to mind and you only bite down a smile. You’ve never tried something like that before with your quirk and the excitement makes your fear fade away.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me either,” you shrug. It’s new to you too, and you weren’t against trying it again.

“Well, c'mon, let’s go before it gets dark.” And he’s taking off, pulling you along with him by the hand. The wind is chilly but it doesn’t completely cool you. Touya keeps you warm, from the outside by his hand and from the inside with his words. Maybe there was more to his fire quirk than you thought.

“Don’t run so fast, Touya!”

He laughs, but slows down for you, looking back and flashing a smile, “Whatever you say, angel.”

—-------------

It’s the end of March and spring is on the way.

The snow melting, the rain clouds are rolling their way in, readying to greet April and bring life to the incoming May flowers, and your mother—

“We need them by tonight!” She yells through the phone and it’s enough to make you hold the device far away from your ear.

“I heard you the first time, mom.” You sigh, looking around again for the small shop and making your way towards it. “I’ll have all the stuff by then. The party will be fine, I promise.”

Tonight is your father’s big homecoming day from overseas. He’s been working away from home for eight months now and your mother has decided to throw him a welcome home party at the last minute. He will be here by tonight and so will the guests — if you finish in time everything will go according to plan.

“I just want everything to be perfect.” Her voice presses and you hum in response. You know how she wants things to be, but your father isn’t picky. He’s the most easy going man you know and if there’s a hiccup here and there, well, you’re sure he won't mind.

“Okay, mom.” You start, grabbing your items and making your way to the checkout line. “I’m about to check out now, so I’ll let you know when I'm on the way home.”

She sighs on the other end, but lets you go, not before fully explaining why she needs the banners and streamers in a certain color and you cut her off, hanging up and checking out.

It's been a few months since the incident in the forest and you’ve given up trying to make anyone see your point of view. They all thought you were hallucinating, but you knew better. You saw Touya. There was nothing they could say or do to make you think otherwise.

You heave a sigh and continue your walk through the town thinking of the countless decorations you will undoubtedly have to help your mother hang for the night. It gives you something to do, but god, last minute events were not your favorite.

There aren’t as many people out and about this time of day and you're thankful. It’s almost peaceful, the way you can weave through the sparse crowd and get lost in your own thoughts.

Until you see it.

It makes you stop in your tracks, heart beating so loud in your chest you could feel it pulsing in your ears.

White hair and blue eyes.

You take a few hurried steps to the alley you know you saw the figure go into.

He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled up, but you knew the moment he turned and his eyes met yours. Touya.

Without a second thought you dropped the bags you were holding and ran after him. He was halfway through the window of an abandoned building when you made down the alley, but was swift as he jumped through it. There was no doubt Touya was fast, but you wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

You follow him, jumping through the same window and chasing as he maneuvers through the dusty dilapidated building. It’s hard to catch your breath and you are sure you’re running on pure adrenaline now, but none of that matters.

All that matters now is that you aren’t crazy. It was broad daylight when you locked eyes. You know Touya is alive.

“Touya, wait!” You barely register the tears running down your face as you run, but you dont care to wipe them away. Why would he run from you? Why would he hide from you? There are so many questions that you need answered. “Stop!”

He takes a left turn and you follow, before seeing him dip right and it’s getting harder and harder to keep up. After the last incident you refuse to use your quirk. Not unless you wanted to ruin your chances and pass out again.

At one point you lose him completely, but there is no outlet in the dusty room you’ve cornered him in. He has to be hiding somewhere.

“Touya, please! If that’s you,” you yell out, voice hoarse from emotion, “please, come back. Talk to me.” You’re looking around the dark room, walking further in and searching for something, anything that shows his presence.

You make the mistake of having your back to the door, the only exit in the room and Touya darts out, passing you and making it back into the main part of the building.

You curse before hurrying behind him, but it was too late. All you could see was him hopping the window and landing on his feet below. It was too high for you to follow so you only grip the window pane, tears of frustration running down your cheeks as you watched him run.

“What about our promise?” You yell, wondering if your words could reach him.

There’s a sick feeling forming in your gut and you try to pull yourself together — wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt and the sobs shook your body. You had a party to prepare for and you couldn’t keep playing this game of back and forth.

Your mother gives you an earful when you arrive home much later than you were supposed to, but she was so focused on getting your father’s welcome home party together that she let you off the hook easily.

As long as you helped her hang the decorations.

There is a tense air around the both of you and you know your mother is hesitating asking. You aren't sure if it’s to save you the trouble of a pointless conversation or if she is just tired of hearing about it.

You decide not to tell her of your latest meeting. Brushing off any odd stares and worried glances with excuses of being tired. It was not wise to tell anyone what you saw. They would only think of you as the girl who cried wolf.

When your father made it home you knew he could tell something was off with you by just one look alone.

He participated in the socializing and games until the crowd died down and people began to leave. You had called it a night long ago and made your way to your room, headphones on and catching up on homework.

There was a knock loud enough to hear through the headphones, making you remove one and causing you to turn and see your father standing at the door.

“Yes?” You ask, unsure what he could want at this hour.

He gives you a small smile, one as gentle and kind as you've always known him to be, and asks to come in — taking a seat on your bed while you close the book at your desk.

“I wanted to talk.” He started, watching as you removed the headphones from your head completely and gave him your undivided attention, sure that this would be about what’s been going on lately.

“Have you started looking for colleges?”

The question surprises you, and you shake your head. You should start looking soon, since you turn seventeen soon and only have one year left, but it hasn’t been your main priority. “No, I haven’t.”

He only smiles, eyes crinkling shut as he waves off your worried expression, “It’s fine! I actually had an alternative for you. It’s something I've been looking into during the business trip.”

Your interest is officially piqued as you urge him to continue.

“Well, I’m sure you know this, but you have a pretty rare quirk.” He starts, tone leveled, “I’ve been working on research studies and there’s somewhere I found that would love to have you intern and learn more about it.”

You tilt your head. “You want me to be a guinea pig?”

“No!” Your father laughs, already knowing how it would sound. “No, not that at all. I want to understand your quirk better, and for you to understand it better. I think it would be good for you. A chance to grow.”

To grow. You narrow your eyes at the words, starting to understand what he was getting at. “So you’ve heard.”

“I did. And before you get upset — I believe you. I will always believe you, and that's why I want you to do this." His words make your eyes widen and he continues. “It’s in a small town a little further away, but the internship comes with your own apartment and a stipend for food. Your mother and I will still support you, of course...”

You hold a hand up to stop him, “wait, how far away is the town?”

Your father rubs the back of his neck, an anxious habit he’s had as long as you could remember. “About four hours from here.”

“Four hours?” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be but you can't help it, standing to your feet in disbelief.

“It’s such a good opportunity for you, honey. This town… has too many memories. It’ll help you grow. At least tell me you’ll consider it?”

It feels like hours before you speak again, the stunned feeling hijacking your body. But you do respond, you owe him that much.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.” You give, taking your seat at your desk again. It feels like your mind is swimming, but you had to at least mull it over.

“Thank you,” your father stands and hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before exiting your room. “I promise it won't be so bad. Goodnight, honey, I love you.”

You only nod in response. Maybe getting away would be good for you.

The first day you find a gift it is raining outside.

You stumble up to your front doorstep, closing your umbrella and shaking off the excess water.

“What the…” You reach down to pick up the little box, and turn it over to examine it. Maybe your mother got something delivered.

The thought follows you into the home as you pull off your raincoat and rainboots, making your way to the kitchen where your mother had started on dinner.

“Oh, welcome home.” She greets, stirring the pot of soup and eyeing the box in your hand. “What do you have there?”

Your brows furrow as you take a seat at the table. “I thought you would know. It’s not for you?”

“Nope.”

The response only makes your brows furrow more as you search for maybe a name or any indication that it was delivered to the wrong place.

“You should open it.” Your mother pipes up and you shrug, ripping the paper and opening the box.

You drop the box the moment you see the item.

There was no way.

“What? What's the matter?” Your mother questions, her eyes filled with worry as she reaches for the box.

You snatch it away from her and dart off to your room, supplying her with an excuse about how you don’t feel well before locking yourself in your bedroom.

The box held a golden locket inside of it. It was in the shape of a heart and you were terrified to open it and see what lay inside of it. You decide that the suspense would be too much and open it anyway — the photo makes your breath hitch.

It was you and Touya.

You, with your bright eyes and happy smile and Touya, half white and half red hair looking at you as you hug him, cheeks pressed together.

There was no denying it now. Touya was alive and he was hiding from you.

Maybe he’s watching over you — like a guardian angel. Fuyumi’s voice rang in your head as you fought the tears blurring your vision.

Why would he send you this and not talk to you?

All of it made your head spin as you thought of the countless reasons and possibilities. You didn't bother to wipe the tears from your eyes as they rolled down your cheeks. Only opting to lay down in your bed, holding the locket close to your chest as you stared at the ceiling above.

It made no sense. Touya could trust you, so why would he hide from you?

Unless he didn’t want to be found.

The next gifts come in different forms and sizes, ranging from your favorite snack to cute cards.

Always something small but never with a note or handwriting. It was almost like he truly didn’t want to be found.

And maybe he didn’t.

It’s scary at first, receiving random gifts and items from someone who might as well be a ghost, but as the months went on you grew used to it and even began to expect it at some point.

Now you knew you could rest easy knowing that Touya was alive and maybe, just maybe he was waiting on the right moment to come out. You would trust him.

It also doesn’t take long for you to come to a decision with your fathers offer.

It’s an amazing opportunity and you should take advantage of that while you can. You tell him as much and you could feel his excitement through the phone call. He was away on business again, but he would handle most of the heavy lifting, all you had to do was apply and wait on your offer once you graduate.

There was just one thing you had to do before you left.

—--------------------

You are eighteen years old when you leave Musutafu.

By this time you couldn’t take it anymore. Either Touya had gotten better at hiding or he knew you would be leaving soon, but there was nothing else from him — and there hadn’t been for months. At this point it felt like glimpses of the past haunting you. Every part of the city reminded you of him and of your childhood together.

Fuyumi was upset to see you go, but she understood.

You still believed, deep down, she thought you were losing your mind.

You needed this though – needed a getaway. The ghost of Touya was holding you down, holding you back.

Even though the gifts stopped coming months ago.

She is kind as she hugs you and waves you off, knowing that one main reason for your company in her home was to visit Touya’s shrine. She does not stop you, does not ask questions — not after the time she mentioned how you didn’t bring him up as often.

There was no need to. You only told her that you’ve moved past that and you knew Touya was watching over you, a small smile on your face as you touched the locket dangling from your neck. Fuyumi didn’t bring the topic up again.

Today is the day you leave. You had waited and waited for any sign of Touya again, but there was nothing. So you took matters into your own hands, making a little bag of gifts and a card that held the new updates to your life and address.

It was a long shot, but it was a chance you had to take.

Once you finished, it didn't take long to make your way back home, gathering your things as your parents insisted on driving you to the train stop. With your mother buzzing around you like a bee, making sure everything was perfect before you went off on your own.

The idea of new beginnings had begun to feel a little more welcomed.

Your new apartment is small.

It is small and cozy and just enough for you. It’s a comfortable one bedroom place and you can only imagine all the ways you will decorate the space.

The town is also cozy and quaint – one that is reminiscent of old fairy tales, but a lot less magical. You can't help but sigh at the mundane routine you’ve fallen into since you’ve arrived. A nice walk from your apartment to the research lab, and from the research lab to your home. Since it’s summer there aren't many researchers on campus, so you have more than enough time to explore the parks and stores.

One week turns into two and then two weeks turn into a month. You’ve gotten used to the small town and the people that live there. It's become relaxing and the new routine has eased your nerves. Maybe your father was right about needing a change.

But no matter what you do, you cannot stop thinking about Touya.

The thought of leaving him is heavy, but when you touch your locket, you know it is for the best.

Everything changes on a Thursday night.

It’s a normal night, one where there is no need to go to the lab, so you hang around in the apartment — setting up cozy lights and posters from home. It’s beginning to come together more and more everyday, and you decided to end it all with a simple and easy meal. One that you could mindlessly eat while watching a movie.

It's a foolproof plan, really.

You’re stirring the pot of noodles, humming a tune when you hear the knocks at your door. It is dark outside, and you haven’t made enough friends to warrant visitors, so the idea of a guest at this hour sends alarms ringing in your mind.

You grip the wooden spoon tight as you take cautious steps to your door, knowing that if it came down to it you would be more than ready to whack whoever trespassed.

“Who is it?” You call out, loud enough for the intruder to hear, but get no response.

At this point you are sure it was just your imagination and you turn, ready to get back to your noodles, when the knocks sound throughout the apartment again.

Frustrating is the only thought on your mind as you stomp towards your front door, ready to give whoever was on the other side of it a piece of your mind for interrupting your peaceful night with this bullshit—

The door swings open and your words die on your tongue.

Cerulean blue looks down at you and you were right — he has gotten taller.

“Hey, angel.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. You wouldn’t believe your eyes because if you did you would see Touya, your childhood best friend Touya on your doorstep. Real and in the flesh, hair white as snow and eyes worn with fatigue.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you are shellshocked, only stepping to the side as your eyes follow his every move.

This was a moment you thought of for years after your first encounter in the forest, and for him to be here, with you. It didn’t feel real.

“Touya,” you gasp, voice low as if being any louder would wake you from this dream you must be having.

“I know.” His eyes are downcast with a sorrow you’ve never seen in him before, “I.. have a lot I want to tell you.”

It’s at that moment that the timer for your ramen goes off, startling you both and sending you rushing to the kitchen. You offer him a seat and insist that you’ve made enough for the both of you.

There was so much you needed to discuss, so much to catch up on. You didn’t know where to start.

The little table you use to eat on is small, but perfect for the two of you, you realize as you set both bowls down and hand him a set of metal chopsticks.

Your heart was in overdrive as you ran through thousands of things to ask, millions of unspoken words to say. You’ve imagined this moment in your head for years. Time and time again you’ve thought of what you would say to him, what you would do if you ever saw him again.

Now the opportunity has presented itself and all you can manage is a wide eyed look as you both quietly eat your ramen.

Surreal.

This moment feels surreal and you’re sure that if you make any sudden movements or ask any loud questions, that it would be gone. Touya would be gone, disappearing in an instant and leaving you alone in your apartment.

He speaks first, saving you the trouble of searching for words. “The food was good.”

His voice sounds scratchy, like it hasn’t been used in years and you can't help but wonder why.

“Thank you.” It’s all you can manage to get out, stunned to your core and desperately searching for words.

You go to stand, taking the empty bowls with you to the kitchen and Touya follows suit, trailing behind in the small space of the apartment and you are hyper aware of his presence.

You can feel the warmth of his body even when he is steps away from you. It radiates and blankets you in feelings you haven’t felt in years.

As you place the bowls in the sink you can’t help but wonder where should you go from here. It’s a thought that plagues you as you grip the edge of the sink, fists tight and head hung low while you brace yourself to turn around, to face the reality of the truth standing right behind you—

You do it. You turn and it’s not a dream. It’s not your imagination, you conclude as you look into Touya's eyes, blue and familiar. Eyes you would know anywhere.

His hair is snow white, the last color you saw it as before he—

“You kept it.” His eyes drop to the golden locket around your neck, a small smile pulling at his features.

“Of course I did.” You’re firm, bringing two fingers up to brush against it, the cool feeling bringing you comfort over the last few years.

His gaze seems far away as he zeros in on your locket, “I was worried you wouldn’t, after the last time we—“

“Don’t.” You cut him off, words sharp. “Don’t talk about it. Not tonight.”

You don’t know what you’re doing or where your mind is going as you take a step forward. He’s so different, yet so familiar and you can’t help but reach your hand up to brush over the newly faded scars along his cheek.

Touya leans into the touch, closing his eyes and allowing you to feel.

When he opens them again you get that feeling in your chest that always pulls at you and for the first time, you can finally place a word to the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer, vision blurring with tears as you fight for your words, “I’m sorry I didn’t—“

Touya stops you, crashing his lips into yours and effectively silencing your racing thoughts. It’s warm and he’s so close, you wish you could pull him closer but you settle for this, allowing the tears to freely roll down your cheeks.

When he pulls away there is only the smallest distance between you two. Noses so close they are almost touching.

“I don’t care about any of that,” his eyes are so focused on yours, it feels like he’s put you in a trance. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, anyway.”

Before you could even shake your head, tell him no it’s the other way around, he’s pulling you back into a kiss, one so soft and so gentle you feel as though his lips were made for yours.

It presses on, your hands finding his hair, soft and fluffy as you’ve always known it, while his hands hold your waist, pulling you in and keeping you close.

This is not your first kiss, and it’s not Touya's either. You both decided at around eleven years old that you would try to emulate your parents and see what the fuss was about. Surely enough, you didn’t think you did it right because there was nothing. No sparks, no fireworks — just lips pressed together.

You were both too young at the time, you now realize as you wrap your arms around Touya's neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. Way too young to realize that love is not fairytales and fireworks.

Love is slow, it is steady and it is this — right here, right now, kissing your best friend in your tiny apartment kitchen.

It’s perfect, you think as you both make your way to the bedroom, Touya trailing behind you for once as you lead him through the space. Hushed laughs and soft smiles dance together as you fall onto the bed.

He is above you, and you wonder how you could have ever lived without his presence. The thought makes you sick.

“I love you.” And it’s not your lips that moved, not your voice. It’s Touya, as he looks down at you, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Touya…” Your heart swells and it’s then you feel it. The droplets of tears, falling from his eyes and onto your cheeks. They were as warm as he had always been and you waste no time pulling him down into another kiss — pulling away only enough to press your foreheads together. “I’ve always loved you.”

And you have. Even in death you loved him, nothing could take that love away from you.

The next kiss is hungry, teeth and tongues clashing in a rush as you both fought to remove your clothes. You have regretted all the things that went unsaid, the actions that went undone and you were both not going to waste any of this new time you had been given.

You feel one of Touya's fingers prod your entrance and the hesitation reminds you that you’re both inexperienced. New to the world of sex, but forever patient. You could guide each other, you decide as you gasp when he slowly slips a finger inside, slick coating the digit and making the press easier.

Touya watches you with heavy lidded eyes as he pumps the digit, causing you to whine at the pressure. He pulls out soon after, searching for your sensitive bundle of nerves and giving a sly smirk when you moan at the touch. He’s found it and wastes no time rubbing circles, slow at first to get a feel of what makes you tick, but gaining more confidence as he goes on.

There was a pressure beginning to build in your lower abdomen and it made you pull him close, thighs tensing as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Close?” His voice is a whisper beside your ear.

You only nod, unable to give him a verbal answer as your pleasure builds.

You can feel his smile as he turns his head, cheeks brushing against yours. “Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

And you do.

You let go of the tension and allow your body to fall into the pleasure of your climax— gasping as it washed over you in waves, sending shocks of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Fuck,” Touya moans above you as he works you through it, only moving to line up with your entrance once you’ve come down from your high.

The press of it makes your breath hitch, but when you look up into Touya’s eyes you feel safe.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?” And you nod, trusting him to be soft and slow.

He’s nervous, too, and you can tell by the way his brows furrowed in focus. He doesn’t want to mess up your first time, but nothing could ruin this moment. Not even the twinge of pain you feel as the head of Touya’s cock pushes past your entrance, the tight muscles constricting against the intrusion.

You reach out, hands finding balance against his back as he pressed on, muttering words of comfort to you and ebbing away the pain.

It doesn’t take long before the pain has been washed away and replaced with the blossoming buzz of pleasure, Touya's hips having a steady pace as he begins to gain more momentum.

The pleasure is quickly building again and you tell him as much, crying out when he snaps his hips at a particular angle and sends a flash of bliss up your spine.

“Fuck, Touya, there! Right there,” you cry and he catches on instantly. He’s always been a fast learner.

The angle he has is perfect as he brushes against the soft spot inside you over and over again, making your thighs shake and toes curl in pleasure as you meet your end once again. The feeling settles deep in your bones as the warmth of it spreads throughout your body like a warm blanket.

Touya isn’t far behind, if his erratic pace was anything to go by. You could only watch in awe as he chased his high, with his brows furrowed and eyes tightly shut. You fall more in love as you feel his hips stutter and then stall, his white hot seed filling you from the inside and making you shudder.

It was a new feeling that you believed you could get addicted to if you weren’t careful.

But none of that mattered right now, because Touya was leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips and you knew that right here, right now was the most important.

Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #my works #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x you #touya todoroki x you

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klonoadreams · 1 year ago

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From what I remember mako has already met many important characters including 2 future strawhats and a powerful straw hat ally.

Assuming that not too much changes by the time the main story starts. How would these Chracters see mako as meeting her again. Like say meeting a grown up sanji and Law along with th baroque work robin? For me I would at least think sanji and law would be like big brothers to her.

Also any spoilers on who her dad is? Or who mako would be shipped with?

Not much is really different, just that Mako has been alive and in existence for like one more year, making her a year older than what she was originally, but it's also a bit of a mess since like, idk how to tell you, but Shanks is like barely 21 when he has Mako instead of 22, so oop, some things might end up changing, but also god dang, Yassop, you barely knew your own son and now you're just taking care of this rando Shark girl with the others ahahha.

No but seriously, this just means the Red Hair Pirates have Mako longer and that means further disaster because Yassop Daddy experience only goes for like a few months and Mako is half fishman, SO WHOOPS NEW TERRITORY.

So yeah, Robin and Sanji would be ecstatic to see her again, especially since the two of them went their separate ways to pursue their dreams, since Sanji won't get good experience as a cook with Shanks, and Robin, while absolutely delighted to know she is loved and considered important, knows that she has to leave the nest because she can't do what she wants with them and try as they may, they can't help coddling her a bit because Robin mcfucking did not have a good childhood, cmere, you get a hug.

Meanwhile Law would just be happy to see his friend again after so long, to the one person that taught him, alongside Robin, that even monsters deserve to live.

Seeing her thriving and also throwing a wrench in the world government's agenda by just casual exposing cover-ups in order to let the truth shine through....yeah, he’s happy to see her. Genuinely, no joke or nothing. Especially Robin and Sanji, though how the turn tables. He would've thought Mako would've been her own captain to a crew, but nah, she's content letting Luffy do it while being the resident lifeguard cuz she can swim. And also fish. :V

Her dad isn't actually anyone we know but an OC, like a rando mako shark fishman who effectively got picked out of the bunch to pair up with a Kuja Pirate who wasn't exactly considered a good wife for a Celestial Dragon (aka, dude was sterile, or at the very least got poor kid making skills), so curiosity plus pettiness and a bet equals Mako into the mix. Which is very bad.

That said, Mako's bio dad is related to some existing characters. And I will say this, Arlong won't exactly take to well to ever seeing her, because she serves as a constant reminder in a cog to a tragedy.

(Hint: it involves Koala going home - you can figure it out there, but yeah, Mako's uncle is pretty famous :V)

(He also had a hand in how Mako's mother was able to escape and while Mama was hoping to go back to Amazon Lily, she at least was in a safe place amongst Shanks crew when she gave birth to Mako)

Originally, i didn't have romance in mind, but honestly, I'm at a whatever happens, happens, because Mako's circumstances are so unique and complicated, that her situation allows her complexity, given how 17 seems to be the age at which people are considered adults or at least allowed to drink, and being a pirate just adds to it, mixed in with being someone who has a bounty.

Romance isn't off the table for her, so keep an eye out for it. Dont expect anytjing until after the time skip tho, she’s a little like Luffy in that it's the last thing on her mind lmao.

But also she's got a storm coming her way come Whole Cake Island because Big Mom wants Shanks's daughter for connections so...

Lucky son Katakuri got picked by my friends, so that's gonna be a "bruh wtf"

Aka, we got two weddings to crash. Except Mako isn't getting killed, but she still wants out of it, nope nope nope

Anyways wedding dress mako kicking ass. :V

#ask #one piece #one piece (oc)#mako (oc)#gone fishing (fanfic)#feel free to ask about mako

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Rule #9

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 6: Modern AU. High School or College Everlark. Make the “booth Kiss” but Everlark! Peeta is the big brother of Katniss best friend, and she never imagined rule number #9 would become a problem. “Rule #9: Relatives of your best friend are off-limits.” [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Rated: Teens and Up (rating will change in later chapters)

Tags: Canon Divergent; ‘The Kissing Booth’ (Netflix) Everlark crossover!AU; Canon disability; Slight age difference; Language; Snarky!Everlark; More tags will be added on AO3.

Notes: Thank you @alwayseverlark for the prompt… I remember when The Kissing Booth first came out a bunch of us started Everlarking the movie, but I guess neither of us ever finished it… Oops! Anyway, this is just an introduction of the fic; the rest will be posted to AO3 in chapters. I’ve already written a good chunk of it, but it still needs editing and polishing. I hope this little snippet is enough to get you going until then!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It’s the last Friday of summer break, and I think I’m gonna faint. The air is muggy, the sun is hot, the pool water a few yards in front of me looks inviting and refreshing, yet, I couldn’t move a muscle to save my life if I wanted to.

I arrived home from a 5 week retreat for disabled athletes, and after dumping the smelly contents of my duffle bag into the washer, I peeled off my shirt, shoes and socks and made my way to our family pool, just to be confronted by an unexpected sight.

I’ve been staring at my baby brother’s best friend in the tiniest, neon orange bikini in history, for what has to be up to a solid minute now.

“You’re such a pest, Rye!” She yells from behind a lounge chair, loading with darts a brightly colored nerf gun.

My brother is standing in the middle of the pool, aiming his water blaster in her direction, “Yeah? You think so, Kani?” Ryen mocks— ‘Kani’ isn’t her real name, though. Rye just had trouble pronouncing it properly when he was a baby, and the nickname stuck— “Eat chlorine!” He blasts his bestie as soon as she moves from her cover to shoot at him.

Is a typical scene, really. A summer staple of our childhood: my brother— Rye— chasing little tomboy, Katniss Everdeen, around the pool while shooting some toy projectile at each other; except this time the swell of Katniss’ breasts, the flare of her hips, and even the miles upon miles of sun kissed, olive skin, glimmering under the sun with water droplets scattered all over her body, gave me panting and straining.

I don’t remember her looking this way at the beginning of summer!

Objectively speaking, Katniss has always been cute, but she’s also another one of the ‘guys’, invariably tougher than Ryen, and completely out of bounds.

“I’m warning you, Ryen Mellark…surrender, or prepare to get your butt handed to you!” She roars.

“Bring it on, Kani!”

In typical Katniss and Rye fashion, her massive nerf gun gets dropped on the terra-cotta tiles for the patio, as she leaps into the pool to rough-house him.

My eyes follow her graceful ass with tunnel vision narrowness. A disgusting appreciative half moan-half grunt, escapes the back of my throat involuntarily. Worse of it is what happens below my waist, where my shorts are tenting and my muscles twitch.

“Fuck!” I heave under my breath. I can’t let Rye see me like this!

Nothing good will come of my brother noticing the effect Katniss has on my body. Rye is obsessively overprotective of her, their bond is one of the most unique, strong and special things I’ve seen, and I don’t dare messing it up.

You wouldn’t be able to tell, just looking at our house, our cars, Dad’s sprawling business, our high end education, or our perceived wealth, but our family life hasn’t been a field of flowers exactly. At times, Katniss was the only sliver of light and hope in Ryen’s existence, and vice versa when tragedy struck the Everdeens, Rye was Katniss’ sole source of understanding and companionship. They’re equally dependent on each other.

It's time to get back inside. A cold shower is in order.

My daydreams of shedding my fake leg and falling into the pool to relax in the weightlessness of the water after my long ass drive, will have to wait.

I step backwards into the living room, but my real, bare foot lands on a nerf dart. The squishy material startles me; I trip, narrowly catching myself against the open French doors.

“Shit!”

The skirmish behind me comes to an abrupt end, and I shift in place, to face them.

My brother’s eyebrows are arched, watching me quizzically. Even with one prosthetic leg I’m usually very sure footed.

“When did you get home?” Rye demands, hoisting himself out of the pool.

“About 10 minutes ago. Where’s dad?”

Rye shrugs, “Take a wild guess,”

So, the bakery then. Dad owns a chain of bakeries state wide, but he’s the head baker in the original shop, here in town.

I try to keep my eyes on Rye, chanting in my head: don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t look at her… it isn’t working! My eyes stray to Katniss all the same.

She climbs out of the pool as well, and it’s all I can do to not stare like a creep, as the rivulets of pool water drip down between her breasts and limbs.

I swallow harshly before rasping out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hey Rye, have you seen my jockstrap, I’m doing laundry.”

‘Jockstrap? Really? Smooth you moron!’

I have to suppress the urge to groan.

Ryen rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I just wore it this morning during all my sport tryouts.”

His sarcastic quip makes Katniss laugh. A sound I’ve found mesmerizing ever since I can remember. Her syren call is too strong to resist.

I turn in her direction, and again, my mouth runs with the first thing that comes to mind. “Everscream, are those new?” I point at her chest, making a vague circle gesture. I’m such an idiot!

“What?” She looks down at herself confused. I can pinpoint the moment she realizes I’m referring to her boobs.

Normally, Katniss would fix me with a scowl for the nickname she hates so much, but at 17 she’s so pure, my comment about her chest just causes her sparkly gray eyes to widen in shock. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink, and she plops down into the nearest lounger, scrambling to pull a towel over herself.

“There’s nothing new here!” She snaps, scowling at her knees for a second. She turns her flaming gaze back on me. “Hey, Peeta, have you ever heard of a detangler? Is a grooming product that can help tame that rat’s nest you call hair! By the way, put a shirt on, you look like a hobo!”

Rye guffaws, and even I have to smirk.

She isn’t wrong. I could use some shampoo and maybe some conditioner as well; washing my hair only with the cheap bar of soap from the athletic villa for a month has taken its toll on my poor head.

“Whatever dorks. Just keep it quiet, will ya? I have a hot date with the couch and Netflix, and I don't want you two intruding in my ‘me’ time with your racket.”

I go back inside, my brother and his best snigger by the pool like they always do. I want to turn around and fling the dart I stepped on at Rye, but I know starting a war with them would just prolong my exposure to Katniss in a tiny bikini, and I just can’t endure that torture anymore.

#alliswell21 #alwayseverlark #prompt 6 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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farty-city · 3 years ago

Text

inside bo burnham review no one asked for

i enjoy other peoples commentary and i was writing down my first thoughts anyway so here it is

inside

first song/intro song

i like the phone screen on him, very reflective of how we have had phone screens on us

“roberts been a little depressed” osnskjdnfs

they were right “daddys made you some content so open wide” hjbfafn

intro

oh my god he looks awful

but like in a cute way

maybe

healing the world with comedy (second song)

the canned and queued laugher no exactly… is it a symbol or is it just funny.. who's to say.

it think its a good first song, establishing he knows what he is doing is kind of useless

“the indescribable power of your comedy”

he looks like marc maron rn

i like the synthed voice and synthesizer

the jesus allusion … yeah

“i'm a special kind of white guy”

this feels like he knows how he is perceived by fans.. Make happy was too much

his fucking dancing fksjdnfksj

i think he did a good job looking manic

the lasers lmao

Side 1

Bo made a huge gamble releasing this like,,, what if you just stumbled upon it and this was ur first introduction to him..

I bet its like when i comment dumb things on instagram comments and get that rush of hehehehe

NO NOT BO DEVELOPING BILLIE EILLISH VOWELS

Also this is exactly what he wanted like,, he just wanted to make his things and not deal with the crowds so..

To think i was like finding scraps of him performing at largo and stuff and now,, so much content

life imitates art

the way he's literally what he wrote hgbkdf

there is no authenticity with cameras

suicide ?

facetime with my mom tonight

the blue light.. Yeah

o hblue like sad

i don't know how i feel about the electric music but i guess its no different than whatever else i listen to

this is sad wow

still catchy etc

side 2

i wonder if here will be any fart jokes

that is how the world works (songs)

the huge mess and then him in a sweater

this is reminiscent of that walmart muppets

he became tim minchin with a sock puppet

the “yes… yes sir” stoppp

jkgdsnfijwkensfosnf

qbejfnjne

nerjgnoejns

bo making a political statement and a metaphor for activism and then making it weirdly kinky

brand consultant (bit)

man bun

i have to believe he filmed it with the beard because quarantine vibes and also bc he was tired of being seen as a child

white womans instagram (song)

i did not like that intro

BO AND GLASSES THANK GOD

the daisies wow just wow

underwear

“white womans instagram” or “bo burnham becomes a girlboss”

i like that he didn't lose his cadence like the way the rhymes are you can still tell its him

i don't get the mom part sorry

is it like how people are very superficial but also very personal on their instagrams

this part was legit sad

side 3

i wonder how he felt with cameras constantly on him

Although this is the point hes trying to make

lol seinfeld moment (bit)

unpaid intern (bit and song)

“barely people somehow legal” was so smooth woW

omg he was scatting

he was a man who would scat

oh my god what great news

the react clip omg

i cant believe he did that oh my god

observation/critisism and response to the “can anyone shut the fuck up”

and as i realized what he was doing he was like “i have this need for everything i make to have a deeper meaning” oh my god

now the question is how long will this go on?

jeffrey bezos (song)

idk its catchy

and then theres him like sleeping and talking which kind of is part of the jeff bezos song

bug eyes salamanders hehe

sexting (song)

i do believe this is just a silly song

the earrings tho omg

sounds like post malone hbkjdsnfskj

idk its still about like intimacy in quarantine and that stuff..

the knife (bit)

i know hes copying like other youtubers but like,,, what

stuck in a room (song)

the intro is very funny and relatable

classic bo i love it

i will say this special has been more reflective but i suppose it has to be

“look whos inside again”

i like the end too, this is all a fabrication

this is the clip where hes staring at the projection of himself from his old youtube videos which is sort of more like an ending to the “stuck in my room” song

sorry (song)

i love the 80’s style music and its like zumba

oh this is like an apology song

“father please forgive me for i did not realise what i did, or that id live to regret it” what a catchy line

i would say this is another more “classic” bo song where its self aware and funny

“my closet it chalk full of stuff that is vaguely shitty”

camera falling

this deserves its own bullet because its silly

i'm turning 30 (bit and song)

i remember him talking about this on a podcast and like,, damn i didn't know this also happened LOL

i really like how he did the lighting

“stupid fucking ugly boring children”

suicide talk (1)

this is interesting i like the use of the projection

this is something that could never have happened onstage

just like with the it being projected on him

i guess it could but it would have to be done differently and probably hed have to make it funnier to make it more engaging

intermission

i just checked this is about the halfway point.. Mh

i don't wanna know (song)

“i thought it’d be over by now”

i wish this was longer but i kind of like how its just a little snippet and then the cut

video game (bit)

“i guess i’ll cry again”

“is the dude big or is the room small” lol

hm depression

feelin like shit (song)

ohh the lighting is fun again

this is the tone shift i suppose

the feels like supalonely and the new kind of music

atl

panic attack

everything all of the time (song)

feels like brandon rogers

i enjoy this

this feels like “welcome to youtube” grew up

“a little bit of everything all of the time”

“apathys a tragedy and boredoms a crime”

ok olivia rodrigo

finishing the special (bit)

these feel like diary entries but as standup

interesting choice

jeffery bezos (2)

Why the seaweed suit

Where did he get that

the digital space (bit)

suit up, gather what is needed, and return to the surface

damn

pirate map anfdkjfnskjd

this was so stupid (affectonate)

that funny feeling (song)

the campfire vibes

kenny loggins

i don't get it..

is it about childhood, is it about the present?

i think its talking about the end of content?

“the end of culture”, to quote make happy

change and not liking it

“we were overdue, but it will be over soon”

if the second half of the special is like a panic attack this song is like a momentary pause before it gets worse

“so ive been working on this special”/breakdown

this was .. uncomfortable and genuine which i'm sure is why he kept it

all eyes on me (song/rant)

another sad thing to watch.. damn

me trying to tell if the audio was from make happy

i think he was trying to make it as if the audio was from make happy

this feels.. familiar

and obviously that is the point

“come on in the waters fine”

the use of autotune during the talking part... yeah

sad that he was gonna make another special… and it would have been totally different than this

i’ve decided i like the homage to make happy

It feels like hes made peace with it

the montage of him waking up and the “i think i'm done”

and then of course the ending where he's watching it over to remind us that its all fabricated

possible ending song/ “i promise to never go outside again”

ngl he looks good in the shirt with the haircut hehe

which i feel like is what he wants up to notice

and then like not think after we saw all his breakdowns

“i want to hear you tell a joke when no ones laughing in the background”

i really like the medley

Final thoughts

I want a blooper reel, but this doesn't seem like the kind of special

I also wonder if the songs will be on like apple music, but again, doesn't seem like the kind of special

I'm happy for him, he got to be honest and open and show us the sort of panicky stuff

this self aware comedy is exactly the stuff that i think will be making a comeback in the next decade. John better be pulling up with more deconstructed comedy.

I hope this has given him peace

#i am so sorry for clogging the feed #bo burnham #inside #inside bo burnham #make happy #what.#words words words #bo fo sho #oh bo

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impalementation · 4 years ago

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Hey I wanted to get your opinion on something I've been thinking about for a little while: For me, I see Buffy's jump from the tower in "The Gift" as (partially) an act of suicide as a result of years of trauma but also IMO guilt that she "lives with every day"(courtesy of "Phases") from all of that trauma that she feels like she should've been able to control: Angel's loss of his soul, Jenny Calendar's death etc. but I wish we could've gotten to see more of how that guilt has affected her (1/2)

(2/2) And by that I mean if we had more references to Dr. Gregory and how she liked him or saw Buffy grappling with her complicated grief for Ford, or if season 3 showed her grief for Kendra and how that might've affected her relationship to Faith. All of that just to ask: do you think the show did a good job of portraying Buffy's guilt and trauma from the losses and tragedies she's faced?

i’ll be honest, i don’t actually subscribe to the read of buffy’s sacrifice in “the gift” as suicide. so that’s going to color how i reply. she is, obviously, killing herself. and i know that there’s the context of spike’s death wish speech and buffy saying “i don’t know how to live in the world if these are the choices.” but personally, i think that buffy’s sacrifice is clearly meant to be heroic. i talked in a recent post about how the white light signals that, as well as the fact that it’s contrasted with ben’s cowardly decision to choose himself over dawn when faced with buffy’s same choice. there’s also the fact that dawn is life, or buffy’s youth, or any number of positive things, and her request that dawn “be brave” and “live” is about wanting that life to go on. most importantly, the show as a whole is so hard-line anti-suicide, that it just doesn’t really make sense to me that this scene that is clearly meant to be a positive, heroic (even if tragic for the audience) moment for buffy would be intended to be read as an act of suicide. like i mention in that post i linked, we even have the contrasting example of buffy in “dead things” for what it looks like when buffy is trying to figuratively sacrifice herself out of guilt. and the show doesn’t frame her actions in that episode as positive at all. (sympathetic, absolutely. but not really the “right” thing to do either.)

keep in mind that when spike says that “sooner or later” buffy’s “going to want” death, he has been unreliably narrating all evening. when buffy jumps, i don’t see her as fulfilling spike’s prediction straight. i see her as fulfilling it ironically, like a prophecy that comes to pass in the letter but not the spirit. in that moment, buffy does technically want kill herself, but not to die, or for any of the reasons spike gave. she wants to do it because it means that her sister gets to live. and she has been terrified all season that this would not be possible. similarly, when buffy says “she doesn’t know how to live in this world” i don’t see it as much about buffy not wanting to live but about buffy not wanting to live in this world. as in, the problem is the world. but when she jumps from the tower, she’s figured out a choice that she is finally content with (“tell giles i’ve figured it out”). a choice that allows dawn, and all of her friends, to keep (a) living, and (b) in this world. in other words, it’s a moment decidedly in favor of life.

symbolically, there’s also the fact that buffy’s leap into the portal is (in my read) about her leaping into the portal of adulthood. and then season six about the rude awakening of realizing that adulthood isn’t just about a single easy leap. which means that her death isn’t really about literal death. it’s about leaving childhood behind. which is sad and painful in its way, but still ultimately something that the show thinks is good and important and even heroic to do.

however. that said. i do think the show addresses some of what you’re talking about. if you’re looking for a season that’s about buffy’s accumulated guilt over her inability to save people, i think the season you’re actually looking for is season seven. season seven puts buffy in a pressure cooker where over and over she’s confronted with the fact that she can’t save everyone. “lessons” has dead spirits come to life who taunt her for not saving them:

BUFFY: Dawn? I'm close by.

DEAD JANITOR: Too late. But then, you're always too late, aren't you? Sure as hell didn't save me.

“help” has buffy trying to save cassie, who dies no matter how much buffy tries to fight it. “selfless” revisits buffy’s history of having to kill angel, and any other friend who becomes evil. “conversations with dead people” forces buffy to kill a former classmate/temporary confidant (shades of having to kill ford in “lie to me”). “sleeper” puts buffy in the position of potentially having to kill spike too, and when he gets kidnapped she may or may not be able to save him. when the ubervamp shows up, buffy’s ability to protect the potentials gets thrown into question. and that uncertainly only becomes more intense as the season goes on. obviously, season seven doesn’t really address much in the way of specific past trauma or guilt for buffy. it doesn’t reference those people you reference. but it does absolutely address the way that being the slayer has put buffy in this awful position where people are always dying, and it feels like her fault—sometimes because she literally has to kill them. which the season does because it’s trying to show that the solitary slayer mantle is a messed up, unjust system. it’s messed up that buffy should have to shoulder this guilt, especially alone.

so i mean, on the whole, yeah. i think the show does gloss over a lot of specific traumas. but in other ways it really doesn’t. "when she was bad” and “anne” and early season three clearly address how the end of the previous season affected buffy. and i don’t think it can be understated how insane it is that the show had buffy be depressed for literally an entire season. and even before that, buffy’s grief over joyce informs the back half of season five. i think it’s also clearly established that buffy represses like crazy, so it’s actually quite in-character to me that most of the time she glosses over the things that are hard for her--except those times when it cracks open. could the show have shown more? yeah, probably. and probably some of what it decided to show was affected by biases about what the writers thought of as important, or them just not wanting to be doom and gloom all the time. but on the whole what the show did show mostly worked for me.

this is all me though, of course! if you feel differently, that’s completely understandable, and definitely don’t let me stop you.

#thank you for the message!#even though i disagreed somewhat it's 100% not a knock on you or the question #it's an interesting thing to think about

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tarunsaravana · 3 years ago

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BRAINWASHING CHILDREN THEORY

Now I’m warning you the next theory is pretty dark and probably one of the most unsettleing ones we have talked about in this Blog.

This theory starts with subliminal msgs in kids shows.

SUBLIMAL MESSAGES

By far Spongebob square pants has the most messages that are clearly hidden in grown ups.

There’s jokes about prison “Don’t Drop Them”

Patrick licking sand.

Those are all just jokes, clearly hidden for adults

But there are lot of jokes, some involves suicide.

In a 2001 episode , squidward is being sad the entire time. There is scenes of him walking around dazed stage. There is a scene of him putting in a oven. By far the most darkest moment of them all is sponge bob looks after him thinking his okay. And then he’s says “at least we know he’s alive”. Yeah that might be the darkest line I have ever read in a kids cartoon show. There are plenty of suicidal messages left in other episodes. As I was looking more into it , I found out suicide was in a lot of cartoon tv shows. The ending of looney tunes.this one really gave me chills down spine, in one of the cartoon characters from looney tunes jumping off the bridge shouting “IM FREE”. Once again glorifying suicide. And its not just these clips. Bunny , Daffy Duck, woody woodpecker, daisy and a bunch of cartoon characters ending their life with gun for no reason. the strangest of them all how they made it look exciting to kids.There is a cartoon where mickey gets depressed over Minnie. In that cartoon 3 ways of killing yourself is shown gun, petroleum and for some reason jumping off a bridge. Now I’m not saying this to scare you or not to watch cartoon. These are all just theories none of them are “facts” and they are not meant to hurt anyone/anything. I mean the daisy cartoon where daisy is shown depressed , in that cartoon almost 5 ways of killing yourself is shown and poured into youngsters mind. Gun, grenade ,knife, hanging and bomb.

THEORY(just speculations)

Now why would they put suicide on younger generations brain some people think control of over growth of population, some people think to keep society weak and depressed and fearful state. Because the more younger you are between 1 - 5 years your brain develops and everything you see on your favourite cartoon shows killing themself and also make it exciting. The more society, the more power control over weak society. Think about it kids are depressed , we’re medicating them and putting them on pills and sitting in front of TV while their watching their favorite cartoon character kill themself and also making it seem exciting to kids. I mean the global antidepressant market is estimated over 11.6 BILLION dollars. The government and the economy love depression. We also glorify things like money, fame, success. And of course if we can’t afford things we were told it will set us “free”. That’s why back of our heads teens think suicide is an option. YES , people have severe depression,OCD ,suicidal thoughts me too included in the past. But it is wondering who started all of these negative energy. Think about it your child entertainer Logan Paul filming a dead body in the suicide forest. The nickelodeon shows who show unessasacery content to kids.it involves talking about feet a lot. Even think about the board game which targeted to us as kids.

“THE GAME OF LIFE”. The goal is to succeed or you’ll lose. To win the game of life you need to make money. You should be better than those who are playing against you. Literally the commercial says “Be A Winner in the Game of Life”. I MEAN , COME ON. And the original version of the game of life in 1860 ,created by Milton Bradley ,it literally had suicide on the board as a option. Now its not just suicide being poured into kids pure brain.there’s darkness in every single form. I mean think about the games we used to play as kids. I mean just google “Ring around the Rosie meaning”A rosy rash, they allege, was a symptom of the plague, and posies of herbs were carried as protection and to ward off the smell of the disease. Sneezing or coughing was a final fatal symptom, and "all fall down" was exactly what happened. Again a another event where people die and has shown as exciting to kids. London Bridge. A song about a huge bridge falling down.“London Bridge is Falling Down” could be about a 1014 Viking attack, child sacrifice, or the normal deterioration of an old bridge. But the most popular theory seems to be that first one. More specifically: the alleged destruction of London Bridge at the hands of Olaf II of Norway sometime in the early 1000s. There’s even a darker line singing iron parts will bend and break , bend and break.

Ouija board, a game that makes fun to contact evil spirits in your house.Twister , a game that is marketed to tight teenagers up and down. Imagine the creepy uncles wanna play the game at thanksgiving.and then we have the darkest of them all Hangman , game where you have to choose the correct word or your little stick figure gets hanged. And the darkest part of them all is that , this classroom game is actually based on real life game in the 18th century, prisoners that were sentenced to death by hanging should guess the word, the exicutioner will give and if they guess the word right they’ll live or if not death. The most messed up part of all of this ,that almost all of the prisoners were illiterate which means they didn’t have a chance , that game was to just publicly humiliate them before they died.

NURSERY RHYMES

And it’s not just games which have a darker turn , what’s the first thing you remember as a kid, nursery rhymes. rock bye baby , a song which a baby’s cradle is in the branch of a tree and the branch breaks and the baby falls to the ground. Humpty Dumpty , he sat on a wall and suddenly “had a great fall” and nobody can save him because he’s dead.”its raining and pouring” a song where a old man hits his head on the wall and then dies, “he couldn’t get up in the morning “

Now one of the most disturbing is Peter peter pumpkin eater. A song about a guy who he’s wife doesn’t want him and puts her in a pumpkin and again, song which normalizes holding women against your will. I mean looking back at London bridge there’s a reference to something along the lines of “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP” “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP “(lyrics from London bridge).

INTERNET

Now on the internet kids start watching YouTube kids but don’t worry there’s bunch of dark messages hidden there. Murder,suicide, violence and for some reason lot of vomiting. Then when you’re a teenager you watch plenty of violence movies, tv shows and now internet challenges like momo challenge and blue whale challenge.

DISCUSSION

Everyone on society questions how much evil, death, hatred, depresssion, destruction but do we even have to question it? By looking back at our childhoods what was being put into us and right in front of our eyes. So what’s the overall theory ,”the way to keep a society in large is by fear, chaos ,the only way to make vote for them is to through destruction”” the only way to unite is through tragedies.”

“The only way to keep people happy , is by showing constant realistic expections that don’t really matter”” money, success”. The society that’s peaceful is not a society that can never be controlled.

CONCLUSION(spreading awareness)

So ,what do you do to make sure that chaos doesn’t appear continuously , well make sure to SHOW children how scary and dark the world is at very young age.

News

A mother bought a toddler this princess wand in the dollar store. Imagine the curiosity , shock and surprise when the child carefully peeled the foil to find a image of a another little girl cutting her wrist full blood.

“If you looked close enough its not a joke ,its actual image of a child slit her wrist, I want to know , what they think,how that’s suitable for a child.

Tarun

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losingmymindtonight · 6 years ago

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Trope: Hair Playing

If there was one thing Tony Stark understood, it was nightmares.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept without them. They were a constant presence, lurking along the fringes of his mind, waiting for the right moment to sweep him up.

For him, sleep was composed of fragments. An hour here, fifteen minutes there. No matter what he did, whatever relaxation techniques or sleeping pills or whatever-the-fuck-else he tried, he always found himself jolting awake, soaked in sweat and shivering with terror, long before sunrise. It was why he rarely actually slept in the bed with Pepper anymore, which had also been one of the primary reasons their relationship had splintered before all the shit with Steve went down. It’s hard to form an intimate connection with someone when they’re just... never there.

When they’d gotten into a screaming match over his empty side of the bed the night before she left, he hadn’t had the heart to tell her that it was because he was terrified of waking up and hurting her. That that one night after New York was still laser-engraved in his mind.

He’d had to tell her eventually. It’d come out in a long, half-drugged rush after Siberia. The nightmares, the fears, the grief he’d felt every moment in her absence.

She was doing her best to understand, and he was doing his best to believe that he deserved her.

Even now, though, with all his secrets laid bare, he struggled to sleep beside her. When he did crash, he usually crashed on the couch in the lab. This week, though, Pepper was away for meetings in Dubai, and the kid was staying over to keep him company. Usually, he could get away with not sleeping during Peter’s weekend visits. He’d played the insomnia game long enough to know how to go 48 hours without sleep and hide it effectively. But a whole week? Even he wasn’t that well-practiced. Peter would know something was up.

He didn’t want to do that to him, didn’t want to press yet another burden into the the teenager’s already over-full hands, which meant that his only option was actually getting some rest.

The things he did for that kid.

A good few hours after Peter went to bed, he dragged himself out of the lab and into his and Pepper’s bedroom. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, did just about everything he could think of to stall. Then, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. gently reminded him that he’d been staring at his reflection in the mirror for seven whole minutes, he wandered over to the bed and curled up between the silk sheets and memory foam mattress. He knew that it was a set-up most people would die for, but to him it felt anything but comfortable.

Still, the last time he’d actually slept was 76 hours ago, so it didn’t take him long to pass out once F.R.I.D.A.Y. shut the lights off.

And down the rabbit hole he went.

The wormhole tore through the sky and in front of him, a nuke lit up the emptiness with fire and flash and that special brand of death that humans are so fond of engineering, the kind of violence that makes Tony certain that there is destruction brimming within all of our chests, like creation is just an overflow of the chaos locked within our DNA, and he fell and fell and fell through emptiness until-

The gunfire ricocheted through the tank like the armored exterior was a hot glue collage of tinfoil candy wrapper and when he turned his head all he could see were the death-twisted bodies of his guards, of the people he’d been joking around with just a few seconds before, could see over-exposed blood dribble across stiff fingers, a network of tiny morbid rivers, and he ran, he hid, rushed from the gunfire until an explosion knocked him off his feet and then his chest was on fire, the world was on fire, he was on fire-

Steve’s fist slammed down on his helmet, one, two, three, and when flesh failed he grabbed the shield, his father’s shield, and pounded and pounded until the titanium mask gave way, until his face became ground zero, became the impending tragedy in a rifle’s cross-hairs, and he shrank back, waited for the final blow, wondered if Pepper would even care after he was gone, and then the shield came down and it hit his chest, not his face, and the suit that gave him flight, power, purpose became an iron cage, clumsy and leaden on his limbs, and Steve stood, bloodied and triumphant, like the soldier his father had always wanted, the soldier he had never learned to-

All he could see was red dirt, red blood, the red of Peter’s Iron Spider suit as he bobbled, staggered, stared down at his hands like he was seeing them for the very first time, gasped out remnants of childhood like I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s- and sir, please, and then he was slamming into Tony’s chest, weight and warmth and fading life, and Tony held him, clung, couldn’t believe that this was how their story was doomed to end, couldn’t bear the progression of time, and the kid got lighter as his body faded but they fell anyway, fell through safety and air, and Tony held him, stared into his eyes, didn’t look away even as the ash crept up his face, over his cheek, his mouth, up to his-

Someone was shaking him. For a second, he felt caught between two realities. In one, he was watching a child die underneath a foreign sun. In the other, he could feel cool fabric wrapped around his legs and the firm comfort of his mattress pressed against his back. Which one is real? Which one is real? Which one is-

“Mister Stark, please. You’re having a nightmare. I’m right here, I promise. Just please wake up.”

That was... that was the kid. The same kid that was ash in the creases of his hand, the same kid that was gripping his shoulder like he might drift away. The contradiction made his head spin until he opened his eyes.

Peter was leaning over him in the dark, face ashen. The second he realized Tony was looking at him, his expression lit up.

“Are you awake?” He whispered, hopeful.

“Yeah.” Oh, ouch. His throat hurt. He must’ve been screaming. “Sorry. I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” Peter studied him carefully. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but what did that matter? “Go, uh, go back to bed, Pete.”

The kid’s head tilted to the side, calculating. “Your heart’s still racing.”

Screw the kid’s super-hearing. It made sneaking him around the truth 500% more difficult.

“Yeah, well, that happens. It’s fine. It’ll... It’ll settle.”

“Yeah, of course.” Looking like he’d made up his mind about something, Peter grabbed the edge of his comforter and pulled it back, inviting himself onto the bed and promptly tucking himself against Tony’s side.

He blinked, unconsciously bringing an arm around the kid’s back as he snuggled even closer. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Staying.”

“And... why are you doing that?”

“Because you’re too stubborn to ask me to.” Peter reached out and grabbed his free hand by the wrist, plopping it unceremoniously on the top of his head. “There.”

The lingering adrenaline was quickly giving way to bafflement. Maybe that was the kid’s point. If it was, it was a damn good tactic. “You... want me to mess with your hair?”

Peter shrugged, tone matter-of-fact. “It calms you down.”

He balked. He didn’t think that Peter had noticed that.

“It’s supposed to calm you down,” he protested weakly.

“Oh yeah. I mean, it does that too.”

Without really thinking, his hand started it’s usual path through the kid’s curls. He must’ve taken a shower before bed, because they were still a little damp and clumped together. He separated them slowly, breath evening as the familiarity of the movements sunk into his bones. It was such an easy pattern to fall into, such a comforting monotony.

“Do you need to be calmed down?”

Peter closed his eyes and smiled into Tony’s chest. “Oh, definitely.”

“Mm. I can tell. You’re obviously so stressed.” The kid was loose and warm against his side, the very picture of contentment. He felt his own body relaxing in a mirror of it, safety radiating from the weight Peter was pressing into his side. “Poor thing.”

“High school ‘s really rough, Mister Stark. Need lots of comfort to get by, y’know.”

“So that’s why you always invade my personal space.” The dreams trickled away. Peter was here, all growth-spurt limbs and sleep-mused hair. As long as he had that, there wasn’t anything else he needed, no memory that could possibly touch him. “Interesting.”

Peter practically purred as he worked through a knot at the base of his skull. “You like it.”

“My personal space? You’re right, I do.”

“No.” The kid sounded genuinely offended. “Me invading. You like it.”

He found another knot by the kid’s ear and rubbed it between his fingers until it loosened. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.”

“Well, you’re entitled to your opinions.”

“I am.” Peter nuzzled his face into the worn cotton of his t-shirt. He doubted he smelled all that great, considering how much he’d sweat during the nightmare, but the kid either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Promise you’ll go back to sleep?”

He shook his head. “I’ll just wake you up again, kid.”

“‘S okay if you do. I can just sleep late tomorrow.”

“I might hurt you.”

“You won’t.” The kid squinted open his eyes. “Try? Please?”

His determination softened at Peter’s pleading gaze. He brushed the kid’s bangs away from his face, letting his fingertips linger on his temple. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Mm. Good.” Peter’s eyes drifted shut again. “Sleep is good.”

He followed Peter’s lead and closed his eyes, too. He focused his entire being on the figure eight he was making at the crown of the kid’s head. It was steady, easy. Peter had been right: this really was the perfect distraction.

“So they tell me.”

He could feel Peter’s smile against his chest. “I love you, y’know.”

Later, he’d blame his response on the fact that he was already half-asleep, or the nightmares, or how he was mostly too focused on keeping up with his rhythm through Peter’s curls to curate his words. Obviously, he would’ve never said it without something loosening his filter.

He never once, however, claimed it wasn’t true.

“Love you too, buddy.”

#yo yo yo it's cheesy ending zone #listen at the end of the day we all love a cheesy ending #anyway thought i'd invert the irondad nightmare trope with this one too #but is Peter sleepy? you know he is #anyway #irondadbingo #also this is such a fun idea #Get That Creativity Y'all #irondad #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #tw: nightmares #tw: dream violence

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snoozejoon · 6 years ago

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Fools | Park Jimin

pairing: park jimin x black female oc (featuring jung hoseok)

genre: angst, cheating!jimin au

word count: 1.8k

ongoing series!

04 - APATHY

So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead; rest in peace, my true love, whose life I took for granted. Most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness, her God is listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal.

Ashes, to ashes. Dust, to side chicks.

THE LESSON that Rosalie received from this experience the most, was that smiles hurt. When they are up for too long, when they shine in your dreams and haunt your nightmares. When they are forced, and even when they aren't. Smiles cause pain, even if your heart is the most joyous and content; even if those same smiles are from your very own. They hurt. More than you'd expect.

Of course, she hasn't forgiven him. His name only brought a scowl to her lips and a complete 360 on her happy mood, and she didn't know if that'll ever change. He still got to see his daughter, who was oblivious to their situation; she'd never want their daughter to suffer from a broken household. Her childhood had been a mere blueprint for her marriage so far, and she refused to let it affect Haeran.

This was depressing. She had to go on, day by day, faking happiness for a child that didn't know her mother was really broken. A child who only deserved love, so that was exactly what she'd receive. Even if her mother felt anything but lovely. She'd do her best to assure Haeran that she had an abundance of happiness; but Haeran - despite her young age - is no fool.

As small as her age is, she's still able to comprehend simple sadness. Simple tragedy. What her mother had been stricken with was much more than simple, perhaps, but Haeran comprehended enough to ensure that whatever her mother was, it wasn't happy. Sure, mommy still smiled, mommy still laughed and tickled Haeran so hard tears escaped her eyes, and sang her lullabies before bed. Mommy still acted as she always did; but mommy's hands were colder. Mommy's heart hurt. Haeran just couldn't see through her chest well enough.

“You’ve got this," Rosalie muttered to herself as she gripped her car's steering wheel and peered outside to see children running into the school's doors. Haeran looked outside her car window - as much as her short body would allow her - and then looked at her mother. Then her gaze drifted to her hands.

They were so tight against the wheel's leather, almost as if Rosalie could pull the whole thing off with one tug. Her breathing was calm, almost too calm for a Monday morning. Her hair was up in a lazy bun, barely resting upon her head. the bags underneath her eyes were poorly covered with makeup.

But once it was time for Haeran to exit and get into school, her mother turned to her with a warm smile, a kiss, and the usual tug on her most defined curl. If anything her behavior was just confusing. As if someone else had her mommy's smile, but that was all they could take from her.

"Have a good day at school, okay Haeranie? Mommy loves you." Haeran reluctantly unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned up on her knees from her seat to look her mother in the eye. She held her face, and narrowed her eyes, searching. For her mother behind this mask. School was about to start in the world that stood outside of the two of them, but then it was only Haeran, and her mother's eyes.

Rosalie chuckled lowly, confused at the young girl's actions. "Sweetie, what are you-" she reached for Haeran's hand but it left her face before she could get ahold of it.

"Nothing mommy,” the girl said meekly. “ I just thought i saw something on your face."

Rosalie confusedly stared at her daughter, knowing that she wasn't telling the complete truth, but not prying further. She knew that her daughter wasn’t dumb; as hard as she may have tried to be as normal as possible around her, she knew Haeran would slightly catch on. Her eyes cast down to Haeran's own, casting a questioning gaze but smiling as well. "Oh. thank you, baby."

When haeran nodded and let herself down, she heard her mother mutter quietly, along with a small break in between her words; almost as if her throat was sore or similar to her voice in the morning: tired and distressed. "Daddy picks you up today. Be a good girl for him, okay?”

At that, haeran nodded, smiling and waving a final goodbye to her mother, and opened the car door and set out into her daycare. One of her teachers were already waiting to guide her into the school. Haeran turns one last time to blow her mother a kiss and wave before finally walking alongside her homeroom teacher. Rosalie watches her daughter's walking figure retreat into her school before finally driving off.

Starving is an understatement for Hoseok. He's famished. On the literal brink of death if he doesn't consume food within the next hour. He marched into the nearest market with such a brisk pace, the wind from his footsteps blew his hair to the side. His destination was the noodle aisle; because he was too hungry to make anything that took longer than 20 minutes. Meaning: anything other than instant ramen. His footsteps move with an unexplainable urgency; but they halt when he sees Rosalie.

She wasn't doing anything at all. Just standing, staring at the the various brands of instant ramen without making an effort to choose a package. She was frowning deeply, with her hands still lying on her basket. Her hair is falling from a lazy ponytail; curls enshrouded her face, making her face appear smaller. She hasn't noticed him, but he greets her anyway.

"Hey, Rosalie!" he can tell he's started her, and immediately regrets being so loud when he sees how hard she jumped. She smiles when she sees him, and it strikes so many questions in his brain; it was as if the reaction was rehearsed. as if it was her go-to facade in place of what her real feelings would've been.

But it wasn't any of his business.

A hand was placed onto her chest as she composed herself, "Geez, Hobi. Startled me. But hi, how are you hun?" She turns around completely, giving him her full attention.

He frowns playfully, pushing his basket closer to hers, "You know I hate when you call me that. Makes me sound like an infant. I'm a grown ass man, Rosie." He mocked how she taught the phrase to him, his pronunciation on point.

She laughs at his remark, smiling widely, "I know, i just do it to mess with you." At this Hoseok rolls his eyes, reaching behind her to grab a package of beef flavored ramen; his favorite.

"Whatever. You've been in this aisle for a minute, why is your basket still empty?" He points in the basket's direction, raising a brow. She wasn't someone who shopped for long. When they first met, one of the first things he learned about her was that she had a phobia of stores, despite her constant rebuttals against that claim and saying she was merely uncomfortable in stores, he would always make his point seeing her shop faster than anyone he knew.

He sees discomfort pass through her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. "Um-" before she answered, a phone call interrupted her speech. A routine ringtone rang in her pocket, and her hand reached down to answer it. "One second," she said.

"Yeah, Juno?" Hoseok watched her face contort into discomfort again, but this time it stayed. "I'm on my way," she said, before ending the call.

She looked back up at hoseok, apologizing. "Sorry about that, something happened at the restaurant and I need to take care of it. I'll see you later, okay?"

He nods, "yeah, no problem." she's already leaving their shared aisle, but he says, "you're still coming to the gala the firm's holding, right? You and Jimin?"

He almost wishes he didn't even ask. Her eyes held a small trace of agony when she looked back at him.

"Yeah. Bye, Hobi."

The drive is nerve wracking; Juno wouldn't have called her if it wasn't something serious. Rosalie's calloused hand releases its grip on her steering wheel and rubs down her face, already ridden with facial creases from how hard she's been thinking. What more could she be punished with? She forced herself not to believe the worst; this restaurant was her everything. She remembered being so so happy when she first got approved to build it, Jimin wouldn't shut up about how smiley she was. Sales boomed immediately, people loved her clash of soul food and Korean barbecue. If anything happened to it, she'd be heartbroken. Another thing she'd failed at keeping together.

Her car finally arrives in front of the restaurant, the big "Rosie's Place" sign coming into view. It was closed already, and she saw Juno sitting on the small steps of the entrance with a two glasses in her fingertips and a bottle of wine in her other hand. When she sees Rosalie's worried face through her windows, she smiles gracefully, walking up to Rosalie's windows as she pulled them down slowly, confusion ripping through Rosalie harshly.

Rosalie's eyes narrow as she looks at her friend from outside her car, who wore the biggest smile. "Hi." she says it like a child, biting her lip with how hard she was smiling.

Juno can literally hear the wheels turning in rosie's head.

"Junie, whats with the wine?" She steps out, already taking out her key from her purse to unlock the restaurant's doors, "and what exactly happened here that you needed to call me?"

She didn't catch Juno's shrug, but she caught everything else; her little dance of sudden happiness as she stepped towards rosalie. "Nothing. but I knew you'd need a day, and, I — like a good friend, came through. Knowing you, you'd want to be in the place you love the most, next to your house — and you definitely don't want to be there, so I thought i'd invite you here."

Rosalie can't help the gratitude growing inside her, and Juno does another one of her happy dances when she sees her reaction. Immediately dragging rosalie to the room after she unlocks it, Rosalie couldn't help her child-like giggles seeing Juno actually run towards the karaoke room. "We can have the karaoke room to ourselves! Cmonnnn, Rosie, you need this! No one's here but me, and I'll let you scream all you want, that's what the wine's for."

The karaoke room was always a small, secluded space for guests that knew their voices were... worse than most. Soundproof walls were an amazing plus, and Rosalie will probably thank herself later, because she was so drunk and so ... loud. She could hold a tune, but none of that mattered while drunk. Nothing did. All rosalie felt in that room with her best friend was the jewelry she wore that day, in an effort to impress the world and tell it that she was okay — although no one was really listening. But she felt like it was real, then. That everything was.

Rosalie could barely remember the last time she let a swear word slip before what happened with Jimin; a toddler shouldn't be around such words. But everyone of them ripped through her tonight. In Korean, English, French, Spanish. Any language she could communicate in, she let the degradation of Jimin roar. Juno clapped her hands with glee as she listened, being drunk as well.

A microphone seemed to be her saving grace, because it voiced her fuck him's and fuck her too's louder than she could, and that was all she wanted then. For someone other than herself to see her pain. For something to happen the way she wanted it to, because hell — didn't she deserve it?

Yes. I deserve it. I know I do.

So nothing stopped her as her voice was raised to octaves she never even knew she could possibly hit, nothing stopped her from taking swig after swig and seeing stars — the alternative for her marriage life. Nothing forbade her from crying after realizing she'd have such a terrible time explaining this in the morning; and absolutely nothing stopped her ferocious laughter when she realized she didn't care at all.

Juno has been asleep; it wasn't her fault rosalie decided to get the most comfortable chairs in the world for this small ass room and definitely not her fault for being a lightweight. Rosalie however, doesn't even hear her snores, being too busy indulging in her pain in search of sheer happiness.

She still doesn't know what exactly told her brain to swipe hoseok's name on her phone either.

Jimin loved the sea. As a child, it was his most desired place to be; crashing waves and salted hair were the things that roamed his heartbeats every summer, so naturally, Haeran loved it just as much. To say that her father was an admired figure in her life was such an under exaggeration of what he really was to her. Her father never seemed to fall from perfection; he could literally do no wrong to have her change her views of him. He was a savior, the smile she was most proud to share — but she loved her mother's cheekbones — and her most favorite laugh always came from him. He was her best friend.

Jimin knew this. Just by looking at her: prancing around in the sand, getting her hair wet in the waves and not worrying about washing it because daddy can do it now. She lets the sea carry her, all while falling back into his arms when it was time to go home. To mommy.

But why was he so ... not happy today? Better yet — why was her mommy unhappy too? Why wasn't anyone happy anymore?

Haeran finally decided after playing around and begging her father to chase her that she'd had enough. Whatever dark cloud above her parent's heads had better be gone by the time she was through. She walked determinedly to where her father sat; he held a dampened towel in one hand and a hair scrunchie in the other, doing nothing, looking sad. "Daddy."

She said it jokingly, trying to startle him. Instead she got attitude. His eyes cut to her harshly, whatever she did interrupted whatever he was thinking about so deeply. "What, haeran?" he notices a pout immediately, "A-are you ready to go already?" He opens the towel up but she doesn't step into it.

She crossed her arms and shook her head, "no, daddy. I want answers. Why are you so sad? This is the place you like too, you should smile!" She reaches up to him and pulls at his cheeks, making a makeshift smile, "Like this. see?" she gets even more frustrated when he says nothing and removes her hands, "Dad-dy. why are you so sad? What did haeranie do?"

That's when his eyes finally connect with hers, regret and remorse filling jimin's mind immediately. What did she do? What did she do to hinder his kindness? Was this her fault?

"No," Jimin reaches for her face, locking their eyes firmly. "You did nothing, Haeran. Nothing, baby. Nothing. This is daddy's fault. Not yours, not mommy. Daddy." He pulls her into him closer than she expected; his clothes dampen when they make contact with her wet body.

When she hears this, another question is sparked, "Why? why would you make mommy sad? Mommy always wants you to be happy, why would you make her cry? She cried today. She doesn't think I know, but I do. I know everything." She removes herself from his tight hold and looks up at him, her eyes reflecting Jimin's exact feelings.

Despair, confusion. Discontent. She wanted to know why, too.

“Why would you do something like this over her?!”

Haeran could never have a question and be satisfied when it isn't answered completely, she always yearned for a complete understanding. He could smother the situation all he wanted, but Haeran would always find a way to bend it so that she could understand. He'd admit, it was an admirable trait. An annoying, admirable trait.

He sighs. "I know, Haeranie. Daddy made her sad because..." he swears he sees the waters retreat from him for a while, because did he know either? What was the reason? What could ever validate betraying your wife? The one that loved him with everything she knew? The one that would sit and bleed out her adoration for him with mere words?

Nothing.

"...Because daddy lost his mind." It was a phrase they both knew from Rosalie early on, he almost refrained from using it. Perhaps he doesn't even have that right.

Haeran blinks. That was it? "Well. Uh, let's find it? I'll help you daddy, don't worry! Before mommy gets even more sad. And it'll be found quicker, with the both of us!" She smiles up at him then, a solution was finally found, and everything would be okay.

Instead, Jimin feels tears well up as he looks at his daughter expressing her unwavering love for her parents. His hand strokes her hair, pulling her into an even tighter hug, earning a joyous laugh from his daughter in his embrace.

"Thank you," he says, a tear escaping his eye and landing into her hair, "I'd appreciate that.”

#jimin angst #jimin fic #jimin #jimin ambw #cheating #cheating!jimin au #hoseok fic #hoseok #hoseok ambw #bts #bts fic #bts ambw #bts fanfction #kpop fanfiction #kpop poc

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virmillion · 5 years ago

Text

Ibytm - T minus 18 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,350

Logan knocks a rhythm into the legs of his chair with his heels, absently observing the cafe. Not terribly busy, given how close to society’s generally-agreed-upon dinnertime it is. Most people have the good sense to be out for a late meal, if not relaxing at home and sleeping off some comfort food. Logan is not included among those ‘most people,’ in case that wasn’t clear.

He glances out the finger-smudged window, watching a leaf skitter across the pavement. A couple of kids chase it along ahead of a slower kid, their backpacks abandoned at the base of a nearby oak tree. Probably a need for speed type deal. Something happens on the table in front of Logan, but he’s too intently focused on the kids outside to notice.

“Logan.”

He waves a vague hand in the direction of the voice, not really processing who it belongs to. At last, the lagging kid catches up and jumps forward, crushing the leaf under their dirt-streaked tennis shoe. The other kids clap them on the back in congratulations.

“Okay, what is it?” He glances across the table to Virgil, who’s sitting on the seat diagonal from him and sipping absently at a cup of coffee that’s probably in the process of melting a few oversized dollops of whipped cream. Virgil doesn’t seem to notice that Logan suddenly decided to start paying attention, which means the latter is free to ogle his husband to his heart’s content. How the faint purple of his fading hair dye hangs just so over his forehead, how that one stubborn spot of acne near his chin pushes his lips up into a half smile, how his eyes sparkle with the light of the early evening sun, how, just by looking at him, Logan can tell he’s savoring every ounce of this moment without even thinking about it.

“What are you doing?” Virgil finally asks, turning around and catching Logan mid-stare. If Logan knew anything about grade school crushes, he would know that this is the part where he’s supposed to quickly shift his gaze, embarrassed to high heck. But he didn’t, so he doesn’t.

“Admiring how good you look.”

“Ew, dork.”

“We’re married. I’m allowed to say things like that.” Logan holds up his ring finger and tilts his head toward it with a lopsided grin. “Sorry, pal, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Just be quiet and drink your drink,” Virgil mumbles into his cup, his face turning a lovely shade of pink. Logan smiles to himself and lifts his own cup to his lips, taking a long sip from the straw. “Where are they, anyway? Weren’t we supposed to meet here at, like, seven?”

“Please, you’ve met Roman. It’ll take him at least that long to get his hair done. Don’t pretend like you expected him to be punctual.”

“I guess it’s just a downright tragedy that we got here on time, then.”

“Indeed. Send in the clowns, as it were.”

“Don’t bother, they’re here.” Virgil jerks his chin toward the door, over which a bell proudly chimes to announce the arrival of Patton and Roman. True to form, Roman’s hair looks as painstakingly effortless as ever, and Logan can’t help but wonder just how early he has to get up to be at work on time (or five minutes late) while managing to look like that.

“Heya, lovebirds!” Patton calls, waving far more emphatically than necessary as he drags Roman into the queue. Roman barely remembers to toss them a passing glance, more focused on the exhaustively detailed menus.

“Remind me why we agreed to this?” Virgil mutters. He swirles the contents of his cup around, but there’s definitely a smile lurking under his feigned irritation.

“Because we’re nice people who talk to other nice people like the good little members of society we pretend to be.”

“Sounds overrated.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Hey, what’re we talkin’ about?” Patton asks, plopping himself down beside Virgil. Logan nods his greeting as Virgil knocks elbows with Patton in a weird not-quite-but-still-kind-of handshake. An elbowshake, perhaps.

“Why society and its conventions are overrated.”

Logan cocks his head to the side, watching Patton’s brow wrinkle. “There’s a little more to it than that.”

“Not really.”

“And you say that on what grounds?”

“Well, for one, you started it, and for another—”

“I would hardly say I started it. You’re the one that brought up—”

“Only because you insisted we had to act per—”

“Patton!” Roman interrupts, sitting beside Logan and plunking his cup down on the table. “Tell them what Morgan did today!” Logan doesn’t have time to wonder why Roman got his drink before Patton, as the latter launches into an excited and (some would say excessively) detailed account of the make-believe game his daughter thought up in the backyard, right down to the surnames of her imaginary fallen teammates. Actually, Logan isn’t entirely convinced that Patton himself isn’t the one with the active imagination, even to the point of making up these stories about his daughter on the spot.

“Ariel still doing okay?” Virgil cuts in. Maybe trying to steer the conversation away from how many shades of grass Morgan decreed as being ‘queendom property,’ but who’s to say?

The question sets Patton off all over again, this time encouraging an enthusiastic catalogue of every last one of Morgan’s mother’s movements. How she brought over surprise balloons for Morgan and held her breath the whole time because of her latex allergy (which Patton isn’t entirely convinced she has) but she could be telling the truth since it could’ve been an allergy that developed after her childhood and it certainly wasn’t of top conversation priority on that one messy night nine months before Morgan was born but maybe they should’ve looked into it when she first tested positive on that little stick in case she passed it on to Morgan when they—

“Large coffee for Patton?” Patton jolts out of his seat and is at the pickup counter before Logan can blink. As Patton strikes up a cheerful conversation with the (mercifully unannoyed) barista, Roman twists to look at Logan.

“Ten bucks says he doesn’t need all the crap in that cup.”

Logan is almost afraid to ask, but curiosity begs satisfaction. “What’d he get?”

“Okay, so you know how a large is twenty ounces, yeah? And a single shot of espresso is one ounce?”

“Very much did not ask for the vocabulary lesson, but continue.”

“Right, yes, but it’s important to me that you know all that. Anyways, apply that knowledge when I tell you he got fifteen shots of espresso, one long shot, and two ristretto shots. Oh, and five packets of splenda.” More jarring to Logan than that disaster of a coffee order is the look on Virgil’s face—not surprised in the slightest, as if someone had told him Patton ordered a regular cup of black coffee or something.

“I’m sorry, but how did you figure out that you liked that combination abomination?” Logan asks as Patton returns with a smile over his shoulder to the barista.

“Oh, you know, little of this, little of that.” Patton grins at Logan, and something in his eyes makes Logan’s stomach turn. Logan watches in horror as he knocks back far more than what could be considered an advisable amount of coffee. In a voice like a demon banished from the depths of hell for bad behavior, Patton whispers, “Taste is meaningless. There is no flavor that could supplement the raw energy in this.” Logan isn’t entirely sure whether or not he’s making up this whole exchange to cope with Patton’s drink order, a fear which is not helped in the slightest by Virgil’s continued nonchalance.

“That’s actually one of his tamer drinks,” Virgil finally remarks, studying his nails.

Before the shock of this nonsense has even begun to wear off, Roman decides it’s been too long since he had a turn to speak. “So, mister promotion man, what do you think of the new location? You seen it yet? Been inside?”

“First off, stop calling me that. You got promoted, too. Second, no, I’ve avoided finding out any details aside from the address and how to get there from home.”

“Even finding that out took a solid two days of me pestering him to look it up,” Virgil chimes in, now messing around with his phone. “If it weren’t for me, he probably wouldn’t even know there was a relocation happening.”

“That’s entirely true, actually,” Logan admits. “We were talking wedding plans and he wanted to send me something, and I must’ve had my do not disturb mode on, because I completely missed the email about the move.”

“Not to mention all the texts and calls from me that you so callously ignored! You didn’t return a single one!” Roman sputters indignantly. “It’s like we aren’t even friends! I mean, how cruel can you be? Those texts could have been important!”

“Oh, are we friends? You should’ve told me sooner.” Logan swivels in his seat to face Roman, well aware that Patton and Virgil both have their full attention on the conversation’s direction change. “We see each other at work, and we’ve interned together since way back when, but that’s hardly solid grounds for declaring friendship.”

“We are literally on a double coffee date right now. Like, I am sitting in a coffee shop with you and your husband and everyone’s best friend Patton, and it has nothing to do with work.” Patton blinks at the mention of his name and smiles absently.

“Okay, but it’s not a date , because you aren’t dating Patton, not to mention that attending a coffee peddler at the same time doesn’t necessarily denote being anything more than work colleagues.”

Virgil covers his mouth as he leans over to whisper something to Patton, who giggles into his cup of caffeinated chaos incarnate.

“You tell them!” Patton whisper-shouts.

“I’m not saying it.” Virgil folds his arms and mimes zipping his lips, slouching back in his seat. Logan really ought to have a serious talk with him about proper ergonomic posture, but that’s a lecture for another day. He quirks an eyebrow at Patton’s muffled laughter, but Roman clearly isn’t about to let him dodge the conversation (which had no business existing in the first place) so easily.

“We are seriously hanging out right now. Like, casual hangout session in a coffee shop. You with your husband, your husband with his close work friend, that work friend with his best friend, and that best friend just so happens to be your work friend. This is a large and tangled web here, my good sir, and I will kindly ask that you respect it.”

“How am I supposed to respect such a convoluted string of coincidences, much less one that means so little with how it’s laid out?”

Patton bursts into a full-on belly laugh at whatever Virgil whispers this time. It genuinely looks like his face might straight-up explode from how red it turns, but he shakes his head profusely when Virgil juts his chin toward Logan. “I can’t say that!” Patton squeals. Virgil winks at an understandably bewildered Logan, who would very much like to move on to a new topic of discussion right about now. No such luck.

“So what are your requirements for friendship then, huh?” Roman gets up in Logan’s face,washing him in a wave of coffee breath. Logan grimaces. “Staring at some poor, unsuspecting tour guide in a museum until they take pity on you and accept your desperate pleas to go on a date with you?” Roman puts enough silliness into his tone that it’s clear he’s kidding, so Logan decides to play along. What’s the harm?

“Right, because I’m keeping Virgil in this relationship on my own terms. Virgil, blink twice if you proposing to me was an elaborate ruse for your own chance at single life again. Blink once if that’s not true.” Virgil blinks three times. “You are a monster.” Virgil bats his eyelashes. Logan might scream. Virgil winks.

“Friendship is a weird thing, anyway,” Patton pipes up, a hint of that laughter still tinting the edges of his voice. “I mean, I’m still super close friends with Ariel, and we had a stinkin’ kid together. Meanings can change, I think, since words are already so hard in the first place. Isn’t that a fair agreement?”

Logan and Roman grumble vague sounds of acknowledgement, though their matching unhappy tones make it clear—at least, they do to Logan—that neither of them actually wanted a real answer to their little debate. They were just arguing for the fun of it, kind of like—

“Hey, what about that Neptune expedition riddle from way back when?” Roman says suddenly. “Logan, y’member that? Never did manage to solve it, huh?”

“Oh, no, I definitely solved it. I simply refused to share with rhizocephalan barnacles such as yourself.” Roman—along with the rest of the table—blinks silently at Logan, who crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Just google it. I’m not a dictionary.”

“You’re my dictionary,” Virgil coos in a honey-sweet voice.

“Never say that again,” Logan mumbles halfheartedly. Let’s all agree to ignore the blood that rushes to color Logan’s cheeks as he considers the pros and cons of dreaming up something equally lovey-dovey. No, better not. Why ruin his stoic reputation with an attempt at romance that’s doomed to fail before it even launches? Might as well stay quiet, watching the topic jump again.

Well, more like Virgil shoves the current topic off a cliff, but you get the idea.

“How’s Ariel doing on that new degree?” he asks. This sets Patton off on yet another tangent about her career, her interests, her grades, her field studies, and who knows what else as Logan takes another sip of his drink and lets his eyes drift to the window. Some kids sprint across the sidewalk, arms spread like wings, chasing a leaf as it floats along with the gentle evening breeze.

#labhwrites #mine #i'll bring you the moon #ibytm

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