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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Charlie MacKenzie

(Not my gif)(Requested by @jotaro-spengler)

(Sorry this post took so long. I literally changed the entire meeting story last minute because I’m an indecisive perfectionist so it took a lot longer to write than expected. Hope you enjoy!)

- You and Charlie getting together was really all Tony’s fault. He just had to go and mention you: shine the spotlight in Charlies mind right on you and say look here you fool, a beautiful woman who you already care about and who already cares about you.

- That wasn’t really how it happened of course. All Tony had actually done was say something along the lines of “now take a look at my sister-”, using you as an example in some scenario he came up with rather than giving his friend a recommendation.

- But, in Charlie’s half listening mind, all he heard was “take a look at my sister” and take a look he did.

- You were a little younger; which tended to be the case when it came to younger sisters of friends that were his age, and you were pretty. You had a nice personality, you thought he was funny on occasion, and you weren’t a total stranger who he could easily find a flaw; that he didn’t already know about, in.

- Why not give it a shot? Worst case scenario, you say no or he breaks your heart and loses his best friend in the future. But hey, it was Tony’s idea to begin with, right?

- So he visits you at work, making small talk; as per usual since this was a fairly normal occurrence for the two of you, before trying to ask you out as casually as he could.

- Initially, you think that you’ve misunderstood him or that he’s misspoken, then you think that he joking, …and then you just think he’s gone crazy. You quite literally ask him if he’s feeling alright because it’s so out of the blue and unexpected.

- But, once you come to terms with the fact that this is a legitimate request, …you agree.

- I mean, it’s not like the idea never popped into your head. You’ve known the guy since middle school: of course you’d considered it; though you’d never imagined that it would actually come to fruition.

- Nevertheless, here you were, giving each other somewhat awkward smiles and arranging a time and place.

- Your first date is initially going to be just a regular dinner at some diner down the street that the two of you; and your brother, often frequented but you quickly find that it just feels wrong to go there: like the two of you are still just two friends.

- So you scratch that idea and find yourselves wandering around town, buying some food from a street vendor and taking in the atmosphere of the night. What started out as a; frankly, uncomfortable first date ends up turning into one of the best you’ve ever had.

- It’s no surprise that the two of you get along. The question is whether or not you fit as a couple so; regardless of whether or not you’d normally do it, you decide to have your first kiss before the night is over to test out the romantic chemistry between you.

- It may not be the most romantic first kiss in the world; considering the fact that you literally both talk about and agree to it like it’s some sort of business deal or logical course of action, but you enjoy it nonetheless and it gives the two of you some clarity.

- He likes you and you like him and the two of you are happy together. You just hope that it lasts....

- Charlie really doesn’t care about what other people think, in fact, he sort of likes to bother and gross people out so he never minds engaging in a bit of pda. If he feels like kissing the hell out of you, he’s gonna do it; regardless of whether or not there’s people around.

- Interlocked arms or holding onto his arm as the two of you walk together. He likes having you close to him so literally securing you to his side by your arm is a helpful form of affection.

- Handholding. He’ll usually swing your arms back and forth whenever you do.

- Cheek kisses. He’s a fan of both giving and receiving them so it definitely goes both ways.

- Excited, feverish, and passionate kisses. You tend to just lay one on each other at random; oftentimes catching the other person a little off-guard, so these types of kisses are pretty common in your relationship.

- Kissing in the rain; sometimes with him kicking his leg up in the air behind him.

- He tends to just call you by your given name; or a teasing nickname on occasion. He finds that using pet names just aren’t his thing and that a lot of them cause him to roll his eyes more than anything else.

- The two of you really don’t have a “usual” cuddling position since you tend to just do whatever feels right or makes the most sense. Some days you cuddle with your head on his arm, other days he’s the big spoon, and sometimes you’re the big spoon.

- Back scratches and shoulder kisses.

- Taking baths together.

- You know the meme about the person getting into their partners shower fully clothed so that they can ask them a question? That’s the type of shit that he does constantly. Sometimes you just have to sit back and consider the fact that you may be dating either an idiot or a crazy person.

- Getting his help when you’re trying to pick out your outfits.

- Going to his open mic nights.

- Having poems written about you. …They’re pretty bad....

- If you're dating Charlie, you have to stop caring about how other people view you because there’s no way you’re not going to do; at least a few, ridiculous things out in public together. The two of you are constantly doing dumb shit so just try to ignore any judgmental looks you may or may not receive.

- Chasing each other around and playing other childish games.

- Frolicking and dancing like children of the night~

- Double dates with Tony and his girlfriends.

- Diner dates.

- Wandering around the city together.

- Buying from different street vendors and food trucks.

- Cruising around town with his top down and the radio turned to your favorite station.

- Sitting out on his roof with him.

- He loves seeing you smile so expect a lot of dumb jokes and comments that are meant to make you laugh.

- Teasing each other. You like to call him “nice” just to mess with him.

- Convincing him to do different things with you. You know that it wasn’t his idea to go on that Alcatraz tour with Tony so it’s safe to say that he can be persuaded into accompanying you just about anywhere.

- Taking different classes together; though you probably shouldn’t take him to those sorts of things …for the sake of your teachers sanity.

- Getting visited at work. He’ll always insist that he was “in the neighborhood” but he absolutely was not and totally drove all the way over just to see you.

- Speaking of work: he would definitely offer to help you with whatever task you had to do just to ease your workload and spend more time with you. It would also probably get him into the good graces of your boss so the man/woman would be a lot more lenient with him hanging around.

- Finding your own ways to quiet his rambling. He tends to just keep talking whenever he’s nervous or feeling shy so you’ll have to learn the best way to quiet him whenever he gets like that; which usually means you’ll be kissing him or saying something he wants to hear.

- Telling each other stories. His are usually exaggerated to an outrageous degree but you never really mind; it’s sort of more amusing to see where his brain takes him than to just listen to a normal story.

- Family get togethers. You’ll usually sit in the kitchen with him and his mother while Tony and his father watch some sports game in the living room.

- Interesting interactions with his family; namely his father. The man’s a little hard to get along with but he’s certainly entertaining.

- He'll always check on you before leaving you alone, making sure you’re okay before he ditches you to do something; even if it’s just using the rest room for a minute.

- Him getting advice from Tony. Regardless of whether or not you want to picture yourself as the mans sister, he’s going to be your best ally when it comes to surviving your relationship; so you might want to get on his good side if you weren't already.

- Having to get through his sabotage stage.

- Charlie tends to get scared and break up with people when things are getting too serious so don’t be surprised if; or when, it happens to you. The good thing is that, if it’s meant to be, he’ll come to his senses and dedicate himself towards getting you back; usually with some big cute gesture.

- Just not feeling like yourself? No problem! He’ll be completely understanding and accept that you just aren’t happy; all while doing whatever he can to put a little pep in your step.

- He’s not an incredibly jealous person but he is cautious. He’ll never refuse to let you hang out with someone or do something but he will keep an eye on your relationships with other guys. Not because he doesn’t trust you but because he doesn’t want you winding up in an awkward position because you couldn’t see the red flags of encroaching romance.

- He’s somewhat protective of you; oftentimes sticking out his own neck to save yours. Although he’ll usually; awkwardly, try to settle things in a peaceful manner after an aggressive outburst at someone or something; usually because he only then realizes how big and threatening they are.

- The two of you fake fight every now and again but real fights only happen once in a blue moon. You get along incredibly well so it isn’t often that you can’t settle things in a peaceful manner; especially since he approaches you very calmly whenever he has a problem.

- Because most of his issues with you are reasonable, fights usually end before they even begin. But if they don’t and you wind up having a legitimate argument or fight, he’s always willing to apologize; especially since he’ll feel extremely guilty for upsetting you.

- He mainly shows you that he loves you but he definitely isn’t opposed to saying the actual words.

- As afraid of marriage as he normally is, he actually proposes to you pretty quickly. I guess when you know you know?

#charlie mackenzie imagine #charlie mackenzie imagines #charlie mackenzie headcanons #charlie mackenzie headcanon #so i married an axe murderer imagine #so i married an axe murderer imagines #so i married an axe murderer headcanon #so i married an axe murderer headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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justauthoring · 4 years ago

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The Lingering Shadow [1]

A/N: here’s the first part! i’ve been reading far too many oikawa fics lately, specifically yandere ones, but since that’s not really my style of writing, i’ve decided to add my own little twist. so yes, some chapters might be dark, and oikawa is definitely not a good guy (sorry to any die-hard oikawa fans) but the reader will have a happy ending :)

just to be clear, she’s a second year in this. and obviously everything will be explained in due time, but please let me know who you all would like the reader to eventually end up with -- im thinking one of the third years, but not sure who. though, i’ll consider anyone (besides oikawa lol) so please send in some suggestions.

Summary: He’s a past memory you’ve tried so hard to forget. So hard to leave in the past. And you almost succeed, almost do it, until his voice is suddenly calling out for you and then, you just can’t seem to get rid of him. Pairing: tbd, Yandere!Oikawa Tooru x Reader

TW: yandere oikawa, dark themes, warnings might change as chapters progress.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before...”

The sound of his voice sends you to a rigid freeze, entire body tensing up in panic. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, of course you would -- you’d used to be obsessed with it (as strange as that sounded). Completely and wholeheartedly devoted to it. Him and that sultry tone of his. Him and that fake grin of his.

Your hands freeze on the strap of your bag, the one you’d been packing seconds prior -- peacefully and undisturbed. And you hang there a moment, unsure of what you should do. You don’t want to turn, don’t want to face him, and you certainly don’t want to engage in any sort of conversation with him.

Hands pressed on either side of you head, a looming figure standing before you, trapping you. There’s no escape. No where to turn.

You keep your gaze down, shaking, violently and without fault. You’re scared to look up, lips feel as if they’d been glued shut -- you’re so completely confused and out of your element that it’s stunned you silent without fault. He’s a intimidating figure before you, even if you’d never felt that way prior to this moment. He’d used to seem like the sun and stars to you, now he feels like nothing more then a shadow, lurking in the dark.

You hadn’t wanted this -- you didn’t want this. You were just--

“--congratulating me, right?” He smirks, voice a low drawl. “This feels like congratulation enough to me.”

You shut the memory out, forcing it to the very back of your mind like you have for the past few months. You refuse to remember it, relive it, and it’s different this time -- the two of you aren’t alone. Aren’t in some dark corner of the school where no one else can see, where no prying and curious eyes can fall on the two of you.

Your team will notice, surely--

“Ah,” he grins, “I knew I’d recognized you.”

You’ve turned to face him before you even realized you actually had. It’s like your feet move on their own, like your body had instinctively reacted to his voice, like it had that day.

When you look at him, he’s grinning widely, head tilted to that side and has that familiar twist to it that you haven’t managed to get out of your minds eye since that day. You’d never used to see it, never would’ve dreamed of seeing such a sadistic and twisted look in the boys face -- but now, you think it fits perfectly if the lasting touch of his scalding touch is anything to go by.

“O-Oikawa-san,” you whisper, forcing the words out as you bow your head. You take a quick glance around the Karasuno gym the both of you were in, finding his team scattered amongst the crowd as they packed up their things, and your own team missing. It occurs to you then that they must be in the locker room, changing out of their gym attire.

You’re not alone, but certainly not with anyone that’d care for the panicked look on your face.

Kiyoko isn’t even there.

“Y/L/N, right?” He calls, jutting his hip out as he leans on his right leg, “you used to go to Aoba Johsai.”

The casual lilt to his tone as you wondering if he even remembers that day, and with a blink you realize he probably doesn’t. Just because he recognized your face, doesn’t mean anything. You’d used to go to every single one of his games, watched with a striving passion and unwavering determination, maybe he just remembered seeing your face amongst the crowd.

Part of it hurts, the stinging realization that he didn’t even care to remember what he’d done that day. The fear he’d set deep within you, it never having fully stopped coursing through your veins.

But then, another, more logical side of you reasons good -- you don’t want him to remember. If he doesn’t remember, it’s less likely to happen again.

“You’re a manager here?”

Swallowing thickly, you force yourself to sound as strong as you possibly can. “Y-yes, well, manager in training. Kiyoko-san is helping me--”

“It’s a wonder how you managed that,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “My number one fan, manager of Karasuno. A team nobody even remembers anymore.”

You freeze, lips left parted.

“That’s what you called yourself, right? My number one fan?” His tone is light enough that to anybody in passing, it sounds casual. But you see it, that blaze in his eyes, the sweet smile on his lips that is just a little too sweet, and the curl of his eyes that seems a little too forced to be real.

You once would’ve believed it, one of the poor girls that would fall for his charms easily and without fault. Now, it just floods you with fear.

“It’s all, if I remember correctly, you were good for.”

He takes a step forward, and you take one back, and it hits you like a slap across the face.

“Congratulations on the win, huh?”

His smile turns twisted, dark, and you find yourself pressed against a wall suddenly, him gaining on you.

“How would you like to congratulate me then?”

“My faithful fan ran away it seems.”

“Oikawa,” you call, voice pitching in panic. “Please--”

“Is everything alright, Y/L/N-san?”

You don’t think you’ve ever appreciated Kiyoko more then you do in that exact moment -- and you owe a lot to her and her kindness.

Oikawa turns at the sound of her voice, and your wide eyes soften somewhat at the curious, but guarded, look upon her face as she eyes the two of you. There’s a still moment, a long pause, one where you’re not sure what to say, if you could even say anything if you wanted to -- it feels like you can barely breathe, he’s still far too close.

But you don’t have to. Oikawa does for you.

“Catching up with an old friend is all,” he smiles, bright-eyed and convincing as ever, “she used--”

“Ne, ne, Y/L/N-senpai, what are you doing talking to The Great King?”

You hate that name, you decide then, more then ever. A flash of orange appearing next to you, all but butting himself into the conversation, bounding up to you with bright eyes and a warm smile -- it’s a nice contrast to Oikawa’s you also decide, body easing somewhat.

You knew your team would notice. Of course they would.

“I used to go to the same school as Oikawa-san,” you explain softly, saying what you’re sure Oikawa had been about to to Kiyoko, finding your voice with the strength of no longer being alone with him. However, you can’t help but eye him out of the corner of your eye, apprehensive and unsure. “Though, he was a year ahead of me.”

“I didn’t know she’d transferred to Karasuno,” Oikawa explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Pleasant surprise is all.”

You notice the rest of the team joining, slowly filtering over to where the four of you stand. Hinata still looks quite confused, and as Kageyama comes to a stand behind him, he also looks quite puzzled. However, as your attention filters over to the older members of the team, they seem more apprehensive, like Kiyoko had, narrowed gazes fixtured up Oikawa.

Tanaka, in particular, steps forward, a harsh glare on his face, a threatening aura surrounding him, to which Hinata is quick to back him up (of course, you notice the way he also uses his upperclassmen as a shield) all whilst Oikawa simply stands there with a confused smile.

He’s good, you realize as well, really good. Better then you thought. He does, of course, have years of practice -- twisting that glint into something more friendly, more approachable, more charismatic.

“Oikawa-san!” A teammate of his calls, pulling the attention away from you, whilst Daichi grabs both Tanaka and Hinata by their collars, yanking them back. “It’s time to go.”

Oikawa turns to your team, offering a small wave, and hope floods you then. The casualness of his step, the way his back is turned to you, you think maybe, just maybe, that was it. Just a game to him. He probably liked seeing the fear in your eyes, got off on it, but you didn’t matter enough to him to do anything else. That was it. He would be off, and things would go back to normal -- you wouldn’t have to see him again.

It was luck that Takeda had managed a practice match with Oikawa’s team, and though you’d been somewhat nervous when you first heard -- he’d ignored you till the end. And you wouldn’t be seeing him again, transferring schools insured that fact.

But then a hand falls on your shoulder, and your gaze flickers upwards, finding --

Oikawa staring down at you, gaze intense, unwavering, and it sends a chill down the back of your spine. His grip is tight on your shoulder, having caught you the moment you’d tried to pull off the wall and get away. He’s strong, stronger then he looks, and he keeps you there with ease, before pushing, just a small push, slamming you back against the wall.

And then his other hand is gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up, and his lips are own your before you even have a moment to argue. He’s unrelenting, forceful, and you don’t know how to stop him -- how to even beg for him to stop, because it occurs to you that he won’t care.

He doesn’t care.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

And Oikawa’s off before you’ve even properly processed his words, chest heaving as he squeezes your shoulder, the threat clearly there, and then the pressure is gone.

He’s gone.

You watch him walk off, pull on that familiar white and blue jacket, and Takeda is saying goodbye to their coach with a polite bow, and Seijoh is walking out the doors. But not before Oikawa sends a smile back at you, just you, his eyes finding yours easily, and even from where you’re stood, you can see that glint, and it feels like all the warmth in your body is just gone.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder once against snaps you out of your revere, and your wide, somewhat panicked eyes fall on Kiyoko whose staring down at you in concern.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N-san?”

A glance at the rest of your team, and most seem to be wearing a similar expression of concern, if not confusion. You even notice Tsukishima glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/L/N?” Daichi calls, pressing you gently.

“Yeah,” you choke out, the words light and airy, but you smile to convince them of the fact. Your shoulders ease, and Kiyoko’s grasp lightens at the feeling, and then you’re smiling up at her, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with a light laugh. “Just caught me off guard is all. Haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

It’s Kageyama who says it, and his tone is sharp, blunt.

“Kageyama!” Sugawara chastises, sending him a harsh glare.

“No, no.” you argue, shaking your head. “It’s fine. We’re not really. When I was in my first year, I used to go to a lot of his games. I guess he just recognized me from the crowds.”

You hope you’re convincing, and you are enough that they leave it at that. But even if you notice the glances thrown your way, or the way Kiyoko dutifully sticks close to you as you finish grabbing your things, taking a bit longer then normal in order to insure you don’t see Oikawa again when you leave the gym.

You don’t want to see him again.

But something deep down, twisting around your heart, tells you you don’t have much of a choice in that matter.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa imagine #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #oikawa toru #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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settersloveletters · 4 years ago

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NO. 1 FAN

• part nineteen; call me daddy coach

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⤷ y/n will always go out of her way for her family, especially for her 7 year old niece, who happens to be kageyama tobio’s number one fan. what happens when the charming sweetheart, y/n, meets the emotionally null, kageyama tobio? and what happens when those two fall in love at first sight?

a/n: we’ve converted to the moon icon for kags. just to keep it consistent hahah. anyways, this is 90% shameless smut and 10% sum serious shit :)) ALSO i removed the cut for both parts cuz tumblr is being fucky wucky rn. will add them back when its normal

[!] below this is lots of smut. BOLDED TEXT IS IMPORTANT TO THE STORY [!]

➳ word count: 3k

➳ warnings: smut!!! coach-kink??? raw sex, creampie, the slightest amount of pregnancy kink and size kink.

“Hey, are you alright, baby? What’s up with that text you sent?” You greet Kageyama right when you open the door for him. Wrapping your arms around him, you give a gentle kiss on his cheek. Shutting the door behind him, he sighs as he sets his bags down and removes his shoes. “It’s nothing,” placing a kiss on your head before pulling you into the living room.

“Hm.. okay. What did you want to do today? Since, we’re all alone,” you push Kageyama onto the couch, grabbing his face and getting a good look into his eyes. Maybe it’s your mind playing games and overthinking, but he’s very tired; a distant emptiness in him.

“Anything you want, Y/n,” breaking eye contact with you to instead pull you into his embrace. Feeling your small warmth press against him eases all the stresses, tensions, doubts in his heart. You’re the medicine that heals him of all his pains.

“Sal’s not here. So you aren’t gonna get your Sunday workout..”

“Yes, and what about it?”

“How about,” clasping your hands in his, you pull him off the cushions of the couch and slowly lead him towards your bedroom, “you be my coach today?” His typical stern expression almost cracks at your words. Before he can even interject, you’ve guided him into your bedroom which is dimly lit regardless of the peak sunlight outside. Counting your frequent excursions and chill hangouts, Kageyama is very familiar with this room. The smell, the look, the plush sheets and what can be found where. It’s comfortable.

“I’m your coach for today? What are we practicing today though?” he teasingly asks, well knowing what you want. He stands in front of your bed as you lay yourself down, admiring the Adonis in the room. Far bigger, taller and stronger than you, he always has you weak at the legs and embarrassingly sore the next day. He’s also so stubborn; when he has a goal and motive, he’ll accomplish it even if it means spending that extra hour.

“Endurance training, of course,” you chuckle while copying his exact words from that first time, waiting for him to bed you. “You think this is funny?” He’s quickly making his way to the bed, finding his spot right on top of you, looking down at you with slight agitation. The more you two have fun, the bolder you two get. You’ve learned the pleasures of provoking Kageyama, teasing him, convincing him he can’t do something, just for him to come back with ten times more passion and aggression. And he’s learned how far you like being pushed, held, edged, tortured even. You have aligned perfectly with each other.

“Yes, it’s so funny, Kags,” you laugh at him again while wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you. He doesn’t budge though, instead choosing to place a firm hand on your jaw, so close to gripping your neck in the softest of squeezes. “I don’t think that’s how you address your coach.” He’s almost there.

“Oh, you liked that idea? Me calling you coach? How perverted, Kageyama,” you smirk, knowing exactly what to do to change the calm stoic boy into a man who only shows himself to you alone. And all he wants to do is to unravel you like he plans.

Kageyama doesn’t miss a beat, swiftly unbuttoning the front of your too tight top, watching the way he unwraps you like a birthday gift. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, pretty girl,” he says, low and steadily, before using both hands to rub along your body. His touch trails your exposed skin, stopping at your breasts which are hidden beneath your bra, tempting him to just strip you bare and take you right there. “Coach, take it off me.”

“You just don’t know your place today, huh?” feeling no remorse, Kageyama roughly flips you over, laying you on your stomach and wasting no time in ripping all the clothes off your body. First, that stupid bra that is the exact shade of blue he loves seeing on you, then those poor excuse of shorts that do no good at hiding that cute little behind of yours. He leaves you trembling there in his presence, and in the soaked matching red thong that hugs your hips so well.

Palming his large hands on the flesh of your ass, Kageyama lands an experimental tap, sending fiery jolts across your skin and a yelp out your lips. “Baby, I’ll give you a second chance. But if you choose to test me again,” rubbing your reddening cheek softly, “you’re not going to get your needy pussy fucked, okay?”

You would have never expected such a dork like Kageyama to have such a filthy mouth. He never fails to surprise you. Grinding back against his touch, you give him a nod in response. Face flush flat into the pillows, you have no clue what he’s doing, what his face looks like, what he’s thinking. It isn’t until both his hands grab the sides of your hip, pulling you so your ass is up, back arched.

“Well, since I’m your coach today, I think we should start with basic stretches. Sounds good?”

“Mhm, things have been feeling too tight lately, coach..”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll help you out with that,” he stifles a laugh while reassuring his cute student. Peeling back the panties that hug your ass, removing them completely, Kageyama sits back to revel in the sight of your glistening cunt. You shiver at the feeling of the room’s draft against your exposed pussy, pulsing around nothing, much to his enjoyment. Using his thumbs, he pulls the skin of your lips apart, collecting the honey and massaging it into your sensitive skin.

“Hm, this is a tough job. I’m not sure if you’ll stretch too well. Your cunt looks too tight, doll,” Kageyama chides, giving another playful spank on your ass. You whine against the pillow, too frustrated to express your feelings through words. All you can manage to do is turn your head back, looking at him, eyes borderline glossy with tears and arousal which sends a tang straight to his heart.

“Fuck, if you look at me like that.. might just have to force it to open up. Is that what you want?” You eagerly nod in approval, slightly swaying your hips left and right to entice him all the more. The twisted thought of Kageyama, a man that towers over you, has a cock far too big for your pussy, and can physically do whatever he pleases with you, excites you two to no end.

You watch in anticipation as he gets off the bed, never breaking eye contact with each other as he tugs his shirt off. You’ve seen it more than a handful of times now, but the built structure of his body, toned muscles and all, has your mouth agape and legs shaking. He begins undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants, allowing them to drop onto the ground, leaving him in only his boxers. A visible tent already pinching the fabric at a point. He’s lowering the waistband and revealing the girth underneath, tossing the fabric aside. You never fail to rile him up, and that’s what he loves so much.

“Baby, I don’t know how many times I have to say it. But, why are you so hot?”

“I don’t know, doll. I’ll ask you the same,” he gives you the softest of smiles.

Getting on the bed again, Kageyama leans in against you, trailing warm kissing on the surface of your back, along your spine and stopping at your sensitive neck.

“We haven’t kissed at all today, did you notice?” claiming a long kiss on the nape of your neck, leaving a light bruise that has you getting chills across your skin. He slightly bucks his hips against yours, loving the way his cock brushes against your soothing touch.

“‘Course I noticed. I tried, but you wouldn’t let me..” you respond in a meek tone, which has him flipping you around, face to face once again. Looking into your hazed gaze, Kageyama inches closer before locking his lips with yours. Gentle lips that kiss him back, and tongues connecting sensually. Occasionally gasping for air, you two engage in kisses, both kind and devilish, for what seems to be a full lifetime.

Without even realizing it, Kageyama begins rubbing his fingers along your slit, lips muffling your sudden squeak. His cold digits collect your love juices, before using a single finger to probe your entrance. Your hips involuntarily grind against him, voice humming for more, for him to give you more.

“Doll, gotta take things slow. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?” he asserts, using his non-dominant hand to pet your hair in comforting strokes. Steadily moving his finger in and out of your pussy, he indulges in quiet flutters of your walls around him, the way you tighten whenever he looks into your eyes, or breaths against your tender skin. “Coach, another, please?”

“I call the shots here. I’ll know when you’re ready.”

“Hm, but your fingers always feel so good in me. I can’t handle it anymore,” you praise, hitting those happy nerves in his brain.

“Fine. Don’t complain to me after for being sore,” he spits before forcing another cold finger into you, pushing satisfyingly deep. “Yes, coach. Won’t complain,” you gasp through the thrusts of his fingers. Your blissed face has Kageyama growing painfully hard and in need for your heat to finally engulf him. His two fingers turn into three, make audible noises as he scissors and pulls in and out, stretching you just like your coach promised.

Kageyama’s aching for your touch at this point, so without question, he removes his digits, inspecting the honey-like accumulation of love that coats his fingers. “Nice and wet for him, huh?” he teasingly comments, and all you can do is squint your eyes back at him, with your typical bratty attitude. He firmly grabs at your jaw again as a warning, knowing he’s given far too many chances for your insolent behaviour, but can never fully bear torturing or punishing you because his love is just that strong.

“Okay, get up. You’re doing glute workouts now that you’re properly stretched.”

“W-what?” you stutter, genuinely believing he was serious. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to make you follow through. Kageyama moves your body aside, only to take your spot and sit up against your bed’s headboard. Tilting his head to look at you with those piercing eyes, “C’mon, it’s no time for a break. Ride me.”

“Ka- coach..” you lugg yourself up so you can seat yourself in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck to support yourself in the new position. Seeing you breathless without even putting it in you has Kageyama flustered and his heart beating. You grab his girth and rub it against your entrance, not yet putting it in. “You’re okay with doing it raw today?” he grabs onto your waist, before you can lower yourself any further, reassuring you were okay with this. This vulnerable feeling, this closeness both you and him share, you were fine with doing anything as long as it’s with him.

Weaving your fingers through his dark locks, you look Kageyama in the eyes, “Yes, my love. It’s a safe day, so let’s have some fun, yeah?” Engaging in one last kiss, he allows you to lower down onto the head of cock, the stinging stretch of your walls around him. The feeling of your bare pussy squeezing against his cock has Kageyama bucking his hips, in desperation to feel more.

“Hey there, you gotta start moving. This is still part of our training,” urging you to take him deeper, to which you do. Inch by inch, you relax yourself onto his length, down down down until all eight inches are buried within you. Kageyama grunts, wallowings in the tightness of your heat wrapped graciously around his cock. You whine loudly against his neck, too overwhelmed over the intrusive size inside you.

“C-coach, why is your cock so big?” moaning as you raise your hips slowly, allowing him to feel every rib of your walls hug his shaft. His face grows redder at your words, and you swear he grows just a tiny bit harder too. “Don’t say those types of things to m-”

“Fuck, it reaches so damn deep, baby. Feels so fucking good, oh my god,” interrupting him, you continue your obscensent sighs and praise as your hips build a steady rhythm. Rolling your hips, you grind against all the good parts while continuing to give him the steady satisfying friction for his cock. Kageyama’s given up on trying to talk to you, or scold you, instead leaking quiet whines and less than quiet moans. “Why don’t you try fucking me now, huh? I’m getting tir-” A firm strike to your ass cuts you off mid sentence as Kageyama firmly grabs onto your hips, setting his own pace now.

“How does it feel to be interrupted, huh?” he mocks you, before slamming his hips into yours, in a quickening pace the room begins filling with the sounds of wet thrusts and skin on skin. You squeak when he lays another spank across your ass, cheek burning up from the impact. He’s a pro athlete with extremely toned arms, so those harsh love taps are bound to leave marks.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to int-”

“S’okay, doll,” right after cutting you off once more, he looks down at you with the most condescending look and thrusts his cock, perfectly hitting your sweet spot. Repeatedly targeting that spot has you becoming a babbling mess. His hold on your hips prevents you from moving, as he thrusts up into your cunt like you’re some doll. You love the way he has you seeing fireworks, the way his cock stretches you out so well, and the way he reaches insanely deep, up against your cervix. You love it so much actually, to the point where you start saying things you didn’t mean to say… Well, not yet at least.

“Baby, I love you so much, oh gosh. Can’t.. Your cock feels so good, ahhh.”

“(Y/n), did y-”

“Fuck, please, please, please. Cum inside me, please? I wanna feel ya up against my womb when you c-”

“What the fuck are you saying, (Y/n)?” Regardless of his presumably concerned words, Kageyama quickens the speed of his hips, chasing this desired high and forbidden idea of cumming inside the love of his life.

“Mmm, you know exactly what I’m saying. I know you aren’t that dumb,” you brain is too fried to know when to stop with your words. “I’m not the fucking dumb one when you are the one who’s basically begging to be knocked up. Is that what you want, doll?” he leans up close to your ear and hums those tempting words as he stops his rapid thrusts, instead grinding his cock against the deepest parts of your sopping cunt.

“‘Course, baby. Want your cum right inside here,” you whine again as you pull his hand, placing it on the surface of your tummy, reveling in the way he moans loudly. There was something about what you said that had Kageyama in a loss for thoughts, heart skipping every other beat. Even if this was all in the heat of the moment, heat of lust and desire, what he felt far surpassed mere infatuation.

“Gonna cum..” he whispers, groaning at the way you swivel your hips in his lap, bringing you both closer and closer. He wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, tipping you over the edge. He loves you. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, feeling the warmth seep through your core as he paints your walls white. You’re left breathless as Kageyama basks in the event of his high.

“I can’t believe I actually c.. inside you..”

“Felt nice though, right?” you coo into his ear. His face and ears burning up as you lift yourself off his lap, releasing the softening cock from your insides. The mix of your juices and his cum slowly drips out, which has him groaning at the sight. With a soft kiss on the lips, Kageyama lays you on the bed again before getting up to prepare a warm towel.

Patting you clean of all the grime of the dirty encounter, he takes one good look at your body, face, eyes and sighs. For a man with no true understanding of his own emotions, you’ve learned to read and interpret them in lieu of that. But right now, for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.

“Was it bad, or something..? We can talk about it,” you pull him in to rest and lay beside you, face to face. Those deep blue eyes say so many things, intense love and desire, but also, grief and sadness, all at the same time. He doesn’t respond to you. “Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?” You grab onto his hand, feeling the slight tremble and shake beneath his skin.

He can't leave you when you look at him with such love, or hold his hands with such care, or speak to him with such concern. He just can’t.

“I’m leaving, Y/n.. I got an offer for Team Italy.”

- TAGLIST -

(taglist continues in the replies!!)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #kageyama smau #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #no.1 fan #bad hours #admin kae

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wroteclassicaly · 3 years ago

Note

If you want to or feel inspired how about “35. “You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!” And/or “78. “Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.” For Andy from the angst prompts! If you like. No pressure though!!

First off, thanks so much for sending this in! I definitely needed this to work on, and I miss my favorite dramatic daddy! ^_^ I hope you like what I’ve created here? I combined each number!❤️

I think this became more than a prompt, lol... Also, Andy is a total dick in this!

~*~

35. “You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!”

78. “Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

The scenery looks ever persistent in its unchanging beauty, you note, manicured nails tapping the glass as you pass by your favorite row of cherry blossom trees.

We must be getting close to home...

That sickening sucker punching dread drowns your insides, liquefying your bones. It’s enough to have you rolling down the window to outstretch your hand and wave your fingers through the whipping, crisp air. Your hair fans out with each rough breeze, creating a spread blanket to shield your left side view. And that is good enough for you right now. You attempt to ignore his rejected sigh.

Your right hand joins your left inside the car, thumb pad attempting to swipe the absent ring where your wedding band used to be out of a nervous habit.

“You gonna do that pitiful ex - wife act all the way to the house, Y/N? We both know I’m the actor in this relationship.” His deep voice, once comforting, is now snide and cruel, a speciality he has taken to reserving for you.

You don’t fight your instincts anymore, knowing you have no need. It’s over anyways, why try to tip toe around your ex - husband that chose everything besides you? When your head falls back against the seat you are wearing a saddened smile, eyes warm and threatening tears, yet they never fall. He looks briefly caught off guard that you aren’t taking your normal “bitch of a high road” and ignoring him.

“You’re exactly right, Andy. You are the one who’s been acting in our marriage.” It’s not a question, but a stating fact that you leave yourself on, batting at his cigarette smoke that he blows in your direction.

You don’t see the tremble his lower lip can’t control, you don’t feel the way his guts swoop into a massive tangle, heart ramming his rib cage with the lashes your words cause. He does what he can do best, one of the deciding behavioral factors that helped destroy your union. He becomes a total asshole.

“Your useless cunt used to get soaked just watching me smoke one of these. When did you get to be such an uptight bitch?” You hear his fingers snap together when he flicks the butt out and closes his side of the window.

You close your eyes and manage your therapeutic breathing ritual before you speak. Though you can’t close off the jagged way your air comes to the surface.

“The night that you left, dumb ass.” You’re not shy with the bitter concert your tone is doling out.

And Andy explodes. You hear him slam his duffel that separates you two in the backseat - onto the floor, his body shifting towards your sought solitude

“You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!”

You let him get it out, squeezing white - knuckled around the seatbelt across your chest. Andy slides so fast across the leather and grips a few inches of the belt below where your hand is, reminding you so much of a predator caging its prey. You know he won’t hit you, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready to be this close to him again, not when you know you’re hours away from losing him forever. Gone is the last name Dolan, replaced with who you were before this man came into your life and changed things permanently. Andy noses your jaw until he gets your neck to incline towards him, his nose smashing atop your own.

He’s like a snarling beast. When you attempt to raise your other hand, he tries catch it with his fingers, apparently unprepared for your biting hit across his cheek. You shove him away from you so hard that he falls back into his seat.

Fuck, I could just straddle him and ride him into the seat right now...

The car comes to a stop and prevents your soon to be ex - husband from further acting out his emotions. You gather your handbag and suitcase, heading into the house and meeting the lawyer and former staff at the front doors. You don’t want to see their faux sadness. You give them your bags, moving into what used to be the dining room, now set up into a makeshift lawyer’s quarters. You grip the curved doorknob behind you, jiggling its non-working inadequacies, another habit you’ll never get used to not doing any longer.

Along the fancy marble table, you see places set for a sadness that has your jaw twitching to keep yourself in check. Folders and pens are stacked and ready to go in front of the seats where you and Andy used to set. You have to move your shoulders against the onslaught of memories this room holds. Hell, even the furniture. Fitting that he ate your pussy out and then dropped to one knee with a diamond ring, but an even bigger, priceless sparkle in his eyes when he asked you to marry him.

You’d kissed his slick cum - covered lips and accepted. Then you saw more of him and less of this distant darkness that welcomes in. The very same table you’d became engaged at is the one where you’ll sign off on the ending that is your marriage, your life, and your ties to Andy Dolan. You’re broken from your grieving reverie, Andy striding in behind you and slamming the door closed. You wipe a hand across your mouth and move to a safe distance as to not let him read you. He’s pretty damned good at that.

“Motherfuckers all headed back into town. They forgot some of the files. Did you mail in all the shit that my lawyers discussed on the phone with you?” He’s accusatory, perturbed, seeming as if he’s having to bother with just being here with you.

“Yes, Andy. Unlike you, I’m not high 24/7, and can remember how to converse like a decent human being.” The hell if he’s going to place blame on you.

He snorts and runs a hand through his unkept brown curls, then paths it with a follow through across his delicious bearded stubble.

One last time I could feel that on my thighs if I just sit down in that seat...

“Then I’m not staying in here with you.” You realize, unsure why he even bothered if no one will be back for the hour.

The second your hand hits the door handle and twists you know you’re fucked. You’d forgotten this was one of the many things that never got fixed. And like a fucking cliche, you’re locked in your old dining room with your ex. You rest your head against the door and begin to laugh, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you fold into your old seat anyways, those tears disguised as pain and anguish in one with the humor. Andy is oblivious to your comedy, trying the door himself and taking a second to follow you.

“MOTHERFUCKER! This has got to be some kind of attempt to —“ Andy starts.

“If you accuse me of being the delusional ex - wife, so fucking help me...“ You trail off, warning him.

“Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

“Or you just fucking forgot that this door doesn’t work, a lot like you’ve forgotten every other damn thing that I tell you. Fucking bitch!” You say acidly in his direct direction.

“Oh? Oh, I’m the bitch? That’s so fucking rich, Y/N. Real comedy right there! My hat is off to you!”

He doesn’t jerk on the door, doesn’t attempt to maneuver it. He knows there’s no point from your prior shared experiences locked in here when the staff is in bed, and you two were kept inside for a late night snack or work. It always resulted in you both fucking each other on the floor, Andy pounding you into the door, or bending you over the table until you collapsed in a naked heap, waiting for daylight to be discovered and let out. Andy stands over you, that cocky walk up making you feel the familiar drenching ache. Great...

Angst Prompts

Andy babes tag list : @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme @littledemondani @xavierplympton @xavier-plymptons @codyfernuk @jimmason @infernwetrust @ferndolan @plymptxn-reborn @9layerdevilfoodcake @instinctsxbaby @icylangdon @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @bloodcoatedeclipse @celestialrequiem @ritualmichael

#asks #kristenwrites #andy dolan fanfiction #andy dolan fic #andy dolan x you #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan #eden fanfiction #eden #prompts

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sunnysidekit · 3 years ago

Photo

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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wantaichi · 4 years ago

Text

karasuno as guy best friends

all platonic over here, folks.

[reuploading due to tagging problems grr]

SUGAWARA KOUSHI made you swoon the first you met him and no one could blame you - ‘hii i don’t think we’ve met, i’m suga :)’ cue hand shake and soft hand squeeze and pretty eyes staring right into you melting your insides.. he’s just naturally sweet towards everyone and you learn this eventually. loves giving head pats and asking about your day and telling you to ‘take care text me when you get home!�� you‘re always telling him whoever he’d end up with would be the luckiest person on earth and you’d never forgive them if they hurt him. the type of guy best friend who spams your profile pic with comments - ‘wHO IS SHE’, ‘ohhh she glowin!’ - and acts all surprised as if you hadn’t just asked him to choose that photo for you. has a sixth sense for you that’s always so on-point he could tell when you’re faking a smile and would drag you out of the room discreetly saying ‘c’mon lets talk’

DAICHI SAWAMURA acts as the parent/legal guardian throughout your friendship, always reminding you to drink your water and to drop instant noodles from your diet. he has your birthday penciled into his planner and phone calendar, remembers your hyper-specific coffee order from starbucks, and knows all your pet peeves - from slow walkers to being told to ‘chill’ because it invalidates your feelings. the best friend you can trust to do your yearbook write up for you because he knows all your best qualities and remembers all your achievements by heart. doesn’t seem to be aware of his own popularity - his mental age surpasses that of people his age - and couldn’t be bothered with anything concerning romance so you’re always trying to pimp him out set him up with friends and friends of friends who are dying to date him

ASAHI AZUMANE’s always seen as the understated friend in the group just quietly soaking up everyone’s stories in the background but actually has a comedic streak only you and few others know about. it’s easy to miss because he’s too shy to say his jokes out loud so he mumbles them to himself, and they’re so insanely corny - delivered with a straight face - it had you tearing up from laughter the first time you caught him. you love that his brand of funny is free from any kind of attention seeking and feel lucky to be one of the few to witness this side of him. his sense of humor shines best when innocently poking fun at his close friends like doing accurate re-enactments of suga smizing at his reflection or daichi holding his screen 10 inches from his face, or when you’re expressively telling a story and he goes “do that face again” so you do it and he’s like “one more” and idiot you does it again before realizing bitch is trolling you ugh

NISHINOYA YUU is your wild card friend - you never know when he’d show up to things, but when he does, everyone knows. the friend you wished upon a shooting star the way Lilo did and ended up getting a gremlin smh. he’s the spark plug for spontaneous action in your life - would randomly text blast everyone on a weekend to hangout and watch that rooster fight in his neighborhood or go feral at the batting cage downtown, and you’re like wtf...game. deep conversations aren’t really his thing but you’re always so down for anything, to ride along with all the shit he enjoys and listen to his ramblings and it’s that rawness he loves about your friendship. the best friend that has a tendency to go missing in action all of a sudden and no one knows where he is but will randomly hit you up at 10pm to grab ramen with him or those ghetto ass meals ($0.80 rice burgers ftw) on the sidewalk that give you both diarrhea

TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE tried to shoot his shot with you the first you met; now cringes whenever reminded about it because you’re a sausage to him now, as sausage everyone else on the team. the best friend who’s down to hang out literally from morning ‘til dawn, have friends over for a week, go out for late night visits or spontaneous road trips - really anything that serves an excuse to be with the bros (including you). you’d joke about growing sick of each other’s company but deep down you know he’s the one person you could never tire of and run out of fun things to do with. the best friend you could simply be drinking grapefruit shochu with or eating cup noodles and it’d still be one of the most memorable moments with him. the most reliable especially when you’ve gone through a messy break up or when it’s red season - will come over with a whole bag of instant ramen, some takoyaki and some ibuprofen (regardless of the situation)

you and HINATA SHOUYO hit it off within the first hour of meeting each other. you’ve screeched talked about everything there’s to know about the other - volleyball, school life, mutual friends, music taste, siblings, irrational fears and childhood traumas - added each other on facebook, followed each other’s instagram, made plans to watch that game in another school; all within an hour. there’s just something about him that makes it easy for you to open up about anything. the friend that gets you all flustered at the start because he’s so touchy and always poking and hugging you every chance he gets (turns out he’s an accidental flirt). he’s your number one fan and cheerleader and has a way with words that always lifts your spirit, but also definitely the best friend who always gets you sent out of class because your thumb wrestling match or game of tic tac toe got over competitive

KAGEYAMA TOBIO isn’t sure who or what exactly counts as a best friend but he knows which people to trust and which ones trust him back and accept him as he is. yours is a friendship where seeing and talking to each other might happen every few weeks (or even months) but knowing you can count on the other for support and encouragement. there’s never any pressure to be more expressive and he feels comfortable to just be his normal self around you; you’ve probably bonded over mutual interest like volleyball or just sports in general, something that made a lasting impression and led to keeping in touch. you can’t be there in all his games but you make sure to stay updated and send him a ‘congrats!’ or ‘you did your best!’ after matches. you’re sometimes mistaken for his s/o (with how comfortable he is with you), and though neither of you give a shit and even ride along with it sometimes, deep down you’re both thinking: ‘HARD PASS’

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI - timid and innocent, that’s the first impression he gives off to a lot of people. he seems hard to get to know at first but all it takes is a little kindness and authenticity for this boy to warm up to you. deep down he’s hemorrhaging with happiness whenever someone introduces themselves and welcomes him as a friend - he’s never really sure if people like him and he doesn’t like imposing on others. even on a best friend level you’ll learn that there’s so much more layers to him - that he’s loudest when nerding out on things like underdog athletes and comics and art, that he has an eye for aesthetic and beauty and is easily attracted to pretty faces and stylish dressers (but is blind to red flags sighh). he keeps you updated with the trendiest stuff like that milk tea store that just opened or that new release on netflix — always up to date with everything ugh

to TSUKISHIMA KEI, people are either strangers or friends. you could be talking or working together on a daily basis but he’d still consider your friendship superficial; inversely, you could be hanging out only once/twice a week but your conversations would always be interesting or challenging enough for him to keep you around. you’re most likely the louder one or always the one initiating conversations and asking to hang out with him; he’ll call you annoying but secretly appreciates your genuine interest in reaching out to him. you’ll know he acknowledges you as a friend when gives you song recs based on your music taste or asks for your opinion on things - should he get new headphones or that limited edition t-rex figurine? he’ll engage you in debate while studying, in talks about social issues and maybe some existential stuff and you’ll learn that the unforeseeable future led by your generation keeps him up at night

a/n: because my guy best friends started messaging out of nowhere and i’m missing them more than usual.

#karasuno #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #hq!!#haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #hq headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #sugawara koushi #daichi sawamura #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #tanaka ryuunosuke #hinata shouyou #yamaguchi tadashi

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mearcatsreturns · 4 years ago

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Im all for Abby and luka, but that clip from the season 9 ep where he’s drunk, is going through shit, and clearly overstepped and touched her when he shouldn’t , should not be in the same realm of all the other consensual stuff

Normally I’d delete this ask and move on, because I try not to answer anons that are Trying to Start Shit. But you’ve caught me in a mood, so congratulations!

I assume this is in response to me reblogging my Luby gifset that has that scene. First of all, I worked hard on that set and I’m proud of it. But you are under no obligation to engage with my content. You can block that post if it bothers you (seriously, the postblock extension on xkit is amazing), or if you realize that I’m going to create a lot of content for my OTP and reblog even more, you are welcome to unfollow me.

Now, to your point: that’s bullshit. You’re obviously free to interpret that scene in that way, but it’s a very narrow interpretation. I clearly interpret it differently. Obviously he’s an idiot in season 9 and all over the place; the narrative is clear about that and I don’t dispute it. But to say Luka touching Abby on the arm is non-consensual? Was Abby kissing him in the ambulance bay in 7.03 non-consensual? She was upset and in a bad place, she didn’t know if he was single, etc. But no, no one thinks that, because that’s absolute shit. If you follow that logic, making any sort of romantic (or even friendly affectionate) overture would be non-consensual. It’s great when people and characters ask if they can kiss another person or character! But...that hardly ever happens on TV, especially ER.

That brings me to the next issue. ER is FULL of moments like that. Lots of characters overstep boundaries. The narrative rarely addresses that. And fandom is hella selective about it. IMO, one of the most egregious violations of boundaries is Sandy outing Kerry at work. It was both dangerous for Kerry and not Sandy’s place. But does fandom talk about that much? No. Or how about when Mark BROKE THE LAW and found Jeanie’s confidential medical records? Are you going into other people’s inboxes going off about every time someone overstepped boundaries? Probably not. Which makes me question the “I’m all for Abby and Luka” bit of your ask.

Listen, you don’t need to like them! No one is obligated to like a thing! However, one of the things I’ve noticed as the fandom on tumblr has grown is how myopic it is. I invite everyone to ask themselves why they like the things and characters they like. If, without fail, you stan white, American characters and either ignore or hate on non-American and non-white characters, I truly urge you to examine that. I’m not going to make any assumptions about anyone based on character and trope preferences, because I know very few of you in a personal way. That said, I’ve absolutely noticed how little love the characters who aren’t white get relative to even, say, Romano (who is canonically a misogynist, racist, and homophobe). Peter gets the most love, and even then he seems to usually appear in fandom to orbit Twink John Carter.

As a final point (for now), I question why you actually came into my inbox with this. You know I ship Luka/Abby, it’s not some big secret. I’m not going to agree with you on that, and I doubt I’ll change your mind. I might have been more amenable to a discussion if you hadn’t come on anon. But when you hide behind anon and have no skin in the game, it’s clear you’re just fishing for trouble. As I said, I normally delete asks like that. This isn’t my first fandom rodeo, but for a long time, the ER fandom didn’t have anon asshats pulling this. I will absolutely turn off anon if I get more asks in this vein. I behave courteously in fandom (I tag well, don’t put hate in pro tags, and I don’t send anons), and I expect the same respect. So truly, if you--or anyone--want to have a discussion about consent in fandom, feel free to send me a message off anon or in DMs. But I’m a big fan of curating my fandom experience, so I will delete and block any further anons trying to start shit.

#Anonymous #ask to tag #you come into my house. on a tuesday afternoon where I'm minding my own business #fandom #for a long time I wanted more ER fans!#but now that fandom has grown there is so much nonsense and I canNOT #curate your fandom experience!#and be polite!

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ofdreamsanddoodles · 4 years ago

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if you don't mind me asking, how do you deal with consuming content with 'problematic' aspects? for example, i see you reblog posts criticizing things like racism in tma, and you can still make content while being able to recognize those things. it's hard for me to continue enjoying something when it has even 1 thing slightly bad in it, but i know that's not a healthy way to consume content. is there anything you keep in mind when interacting with a given series? u don't need to answer ❤️ ty

also a note on my ask -- of course you don't need to answer, and you aren't a therapist & etc. i just admire your ability to both recognize flaws in works but still enjoy them, and thought since you seem to have critical thinking skills you might have a perspective that you could offer. being on tumblr from a young age seems to have affected my ability to separate things in my mind, lol. thanks so much for reading even if you don't feel comfortable answering.

I mean... you’ve kind of answered your own question? The only way to consume media is to remember that everything has flaws. My brother came by while I was typing this up and told me the answer is to “just vibe” because everyone is more or less terrible in one aspect or another but obviously, that’s not the answer you’re looking for.

I guess the short answer is just... you have to learn how to trust your own set of morals and understand that you shouldn’t feel guilty if a story you like betrays you. And yes, that’s hard, especially when you grow up surrounded by very rigid rules on what’s “okay” to watch, but if you’re just looking for some tips, here’s a list that I hope will help:

Find people you trust and see what they think of the situation. Think about whether or not they’re coming from an informed place. A friend of mine asked me if I knew about a Jewish tradition a while back. I had no idea what they were talking about. Turns out, it was something popular with German Jews. None of my family is from Germany. Sometimes, just being Jewish doesn’t mean I’m the right person to ask.

Find people who are complaining & see why they’re upset. Think about who is annoyed by this and how many of them there are. Think about what they think the proper response is, if any. Think about whether you have the right to wave off their concerns. Think about how those concerns are treated, both in-fandom and by creators. I saw a lot of people in the tma tag complaining about twitter “overreacting” to MAG 185, but if Jonny felt the need to issue an apology and specifically say that he realizes he’s crossed a line, chances are, the complaints were probably warranted (a thing I’d like to add is that apparently, RQ also issued an apology for a fluff episode they released, which I thought was kind of silly, because the episode was essentially just joking about martin forgetting a word. But also, as a neurodivergent person who sometimes struggles with speech, I do understand why that might upset people. not all apologies have to about incredibly important topics, but even the ones who aren’t show a lot about the cast behind it. Alternatively, if RQ had only apologized for this episode, and not MAG 185, that also says a lot about where there priorities are, and what fans they care about keeping)

Think about what will happen if you continue watching/reading etc. It’s not so much “is it okay if I keep watching this?” but “if I continue to watch this, will I convince myself that this problematic aspect isn’t actually a big deal? Is it so ingrained in the show that I can’t watch an episode without seeing the problems in it? What will I say to others, if they want to watch this?” For example, if someone sees you’ve reblogged a scene from a show you like and asks what it’s about, how many excuses are you going to give? How many trigger warnings are there, and can you justify them? There’s a difference between a piece of media having a character say homophobic slurs, and a piece of media saying a gay person should have homophobic slurs thrown at them. Also: If you think you cant justify getting someone else interested, you probably shouldn’t justify contributing to the show. This might be obvious, but there’s a very big difference in pirating a tv show and buying its merch.

Think about the fandom. If you continue talking about this, who are you surrounding yourself with? Like, there are a LOT of weirdos making content for kids shows, but that doesn’t always mean the show itself is weird. What it does mean, though, is that you should be careful navigating your enjoyment. Sometimes, the only way to enjoy something is to talk about it with a select few friends. Sometimes, it’s to enjoy it by yourself. I do believe it’s possible to enjoy a show in spite of the canon, but at the same time, if you’re watching a show that’s attracting a lot of racists, think about why that might be.

some more thoughts under the cut, because I already wrote them out before I realized I could just make a list.

The thing about consuming media is that it’s very subjective. I know a lot of people who have given up on tma recently and while that’s not wholly because it’s “problematic,” it definitely plays a part in it. People have different meters for what they can excuse in media. The important thing to remember is WHY they left, and if you’re able to keep that in your mind while also continuing to engage in contact with the media. Will you be able to remember that Daisy traumatized Jon more than any other avatar if you consume context calling her Basira’s hot murderwife? Can you talk about the Flesh and acknowledge the racism in the creation of the Haans?

Personally, I don’t think you can produce positive content about Daisy and also acknowledge the harm she causes. You can’t point at a character and say, yes, she has committed actual police brutality, but I think she deserves a cute lesbian romance anyway. That’s not really a thing tma has done wrong as much as it is a problem with the fandom, but like, at the end of the day, it’s all just a matter of critical thinking. Who is being hurt by these portrayals of the characters? How? Most of the problems with tma aren’t things that are, like, baked into the actual worldbuilding and for a lot of people, that’s enough for them to still justify making content for the show.

If your complaints sound like “oh, if only they didn’t do xy, this would make for a good show,” then you’re probably fine. But if it goes into “i like this, but only if I can ignore (major plot point)” think about why you feel the need to keep watching. There are shows I’ve stopped watching based on principle. There’s manga I read that I only talk about with my brother and no one else, because I don’t want to be exposed to the fans. It doesn’t have to be as simple as “well, this artist did a bad thing, so now I’m going to ignore it forever.” If you think the creators of something are bad people, don’t support them. You can still pirate it or whatever, but if it’s something like hetalia, where the point of the show is just “let’s put all these stereotypes in a room and see how they react” then yes, for your own sake, you should stop watching because this is how stereotypes become normalized, and no one should be consuming media where nazi germany as the protagonist.

Really, at the end of the day, it’s just a matter of becoming media literate and that’s a process that takes time. Remember that being interested in something that isn’t 100% doesn’t make you a bad person, and listen to the people around you. Try and be a safe space for the people who do have complaints and remember not to place your enjoyment of something over the comfort of others. Other than that, just... do your best, I guess?

#this is far much more detail than you asked for i think but thats what you get for coming to me #asks #apologies if this took a while to answer i worked all day and needed some me time before i could tackle this #Anonymous

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gayregis · 4 years ago

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I wish twn fans would stop making the witchers into furries of their schools' mascots and shit, like that's not how it works. I'm so tired.

LOL I FELT THIS

this is strange for me because i am in a position where i like/liked (past tense now lol) giving characters animalistic traits because well, it’s cool —if it makes sense and all — and this was common in my other fandom (plus was more immersed in furry culture when i was a teenager than any other time so far, so i never really felt cringe about it). i think fangs, horns, tapetum lucidum, weird ear shapes, etc., are neat. BUT...

people turned it into a horny thing really quickly and just started doing it because it was a fetish of theirs, and then sold it off as “isn’t this just a cool thing that i’m-maybe-also-horny-for?” and exported it en masse to make it popular, without actually engaging with WHY they are doing it and the motivations behind it, when those motivations vary extremely (some are making content because they just think it’s cool/neat, some are actually doing this as part of a fetish). it was an experience i had as a teenager where there was a lot of content about “omg aren’t these animalistic traits COOL?” and so you get involved with that and reblog art about it, but then you realize... “hm, this art is kind of... the characters in it seem drawn a little weirdly... they seem to have a weird... blush on their faces and...” and then you realize you’ve just been reblogging fetish art because hella fucking adult artists on this site like posing their fetishes as something completely innocuous and innocent, since “there’s no nudity it can’t be nsfw... so i can interact with minors about it—“ which is disgusting and annoying because of how commonplace it is. tldr for this section : stop reaching out to teenagers to build an audience for your fetish art and learn to act appropriately, interact with adults only when you make nsfw content.

my issue is that it’s largely been normalized as part of something to be horny about on tumblr, so if you say “i don’t feel comfortable seeing untagged fetish art” it makes you out to be a hater and part of some “no fun allowed” police. no dude, i’m not a hater, i just don’t want to see your “geralt yawns and shows his fangs and jaskier blushes really hard and cums his pants” art untagged on my dash and treated like it’s completely SFW when it’s not, you need to own up to the NSFW nature of what you’re posting.

and even when it’s not untagged fetish art... as always, i think critical thinking is needed. you need to be in touch with the MESSAGE and THEMES of the character at hand.

geralt struggles so much with being seen as human, being understood as human, and seeing himself as human. he doesn’t have inhuman features other than his eyes, and all of this is to demonstrate that he IS human, he has some extremely miniscule strange physical attibutes, that wouldn’t even be so noticable if not for fear of the other / fear of strangers, etc... it’s the society that is the real monster... so to create “monsterous” or “animalistic” witchers is to completely ignore this major theme of geralt’s character.

additionally just because i’m bitter about it (and this is an opinion one may disagree with, of course, as always) i think it doesn’t make any sense to make regis appear to have pointed ears or desaturated/pale skin, etc. he literally looks exactly like a human, this can’t really be changed because it is part of how his character interacts with the other characters... but the thing is, this doesn’t mean you can’t have cool vampire headcanons re: how vampires look and behave, how they have physical forms, etc. it’s just for regis specifically... he looks exactly like a human because that is a main component to the plot and his character. he literally hides his only physical vampire traits, his fangs, all the time in order to be more approachable to humans. if he wasn’t able to pass himself off as human, then he would never have joined geralt’s company.

#ask #anon #the witcher netflix #i WILL think about geralt and regis having conversations in beauclair at 3 AM in the kitchen and theyre just like O_O OwO #anyways the ‘horny for fangs’ side of tumblr is a plague and nothing less ❤️🤗🥰

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vincent-g-writer · 4 years ago

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The Silver Screen Savant, pt 2- the Meh, the Bad and The yikes.

Hello Writers!

Last time here on Starry Starry Write, I talked a little about Autism in the media and my personal experiences therein. Today, I’d like to go a little broader, and tackle the topic from a macro perspective.

In recent times, you’ve probably heard “Representation Matters” oft repeated. Especially in prominent talking spaces like social media. But what does that mean, exactly?

Why “Representation Matters,” and how.

The short answer:

Diverse representation in media tells us that everyone has a place in the world. That everyone’s story matters.

The long answer:

It’s no secret that we begin engaging with media at a young age. When I was growing up in the 90’s and 00’s, TV and video games were often the babysitters of my peers. I was one of the few kids in my neighborhood whose parents weren’t divorced. The kids I knew? Not so much. Most of them were raised by single parents, grandparents and of course-the boob tube. I personally prefered books, when my mom wasn’t yelling “it’s too nice out to be holed up in that dark bedroom!”

Now, don’t mistake my preference for some kind of intellectual superiority. I watched plenty of TV too. Besides, books aren’t magically out of the equation. Printed material is our oldest form of media. And- often just as problematic. Though I will say- I saw a much broader range of people on covers adoring library shelves than I ever did titles on a TV roster. But, I digress. The point is: for many of us, consuming media begins at an early time of our life. And that’s where the problem starts. Even in my childhood, where The Magic School Bus, Hey Arnold, and Sesame Street showed people of all kinds, I can point to many that did not. Especially not people like me. Which did me a grave disservice. I didn’t know I was on the spectrum for a long time, and when I finally found out, I was horrified, thanks to what I had seen on TV.

Because media is not only a wonderful way to learn about people that don’t look, act or sound like us. It also informs our ideas of who we are, and what we can be. Whether we like it or not: it shapes how we understand the world. And it doesn’t stop with Childhood.

Time Changes Much, but not all.

Things are better now. Well, a little bit, anyway.

As an adult, I see more people like me on the screen nowadays. Which is nice.

Ish.

Why “ish?” Well…

Frequently, these “noticeably different” characters (read: Autistically coded) are branded “NOT AUTISTIC!” You heard it here first, folks! That one character (insert your favorite) is Totally Not Autistic. Despite being written in a way that gives every indication otherwise.

*Facepalm*

Now for some examples, which we’ll call the “Meh,” “The Bad” and the “Yikes.” For “fun,” we’ll also go into the off-air perceptions of the characters.

The “Meh.”

First on the list is Dr. Spencer Reid, from CBS’s “Criminal Minds.”

Dr. Reid is the youngest member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, having joined at the age of 22. He holds three B.A degrees in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy, as well as three Ph.D’s in Engineering, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

He also has the social skills of a limp dishrag. Wait, what’s that? High Intelligence + Low Social Awareness? Hmmm…Then there’s his restrictive behavioral patterns, obsessive interests, and general “quirkiness!” that we could talk about. But let’s hear a quote from the actor who plays him, Matthew Gray Gubler:

“..an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger’s Syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three PH.D.s and one can’t usually achieve that without some form of autism.”

Hoooo-boy. I could go into all the things wrong with this, including why the term “Asperger’s” is both horrific (TW: Eugenics,Ableism, N*zis) and harmful. However, today we’ll simply leave it with the fact that this term is no longer applicable, having been reclassified in 2013 as part of Autism Spectrum disorder.

The “Bad.”

Next up, we have Will Graham, from NBC’s Hannibal.

Like our first example, Will works for the FBI. He’s a gifted criminal profiler with “special” abilities, namely hyper empathy, which allows him to reconstruct the actions and fantasies of the killers he hunts. He’s intellectually gifted, hates eye contact, socializing, and prefers to spend…most of his time…alone.

Oh dear. Haven’t we been here before? But, I mean, he doesn’t have Autism! The show runner says so!

For Will Graham, there’s a line in the pilot about him being on the spectrum of autism or Asperger’s, and he’s neither of those things. He actually has an empathy disorder where he feels way too much and that’s relatable in some way. There’s something about people who connect more to animals than they do to other people because it’s too intense for whatever reason.

You can’t see me right now, but I’m cringing. A lot. This is just…ugh. I mean, for starters, I know a handful of autistic people who struggle with hyper empathy, which can make social situations overwhelming and hard to navigate. In fact, I happen to be one of them. Plus, there’s a cool little thing about how, frequently, people on the spectrum more readily identify with animals. But, y’know. Who am I to say? I’m just someone, one of many, who’s dealt with this my whole life.

Now, onto the “Yikes.”

*sigh*

And finally, we have BBC’s Sherlock, a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s renowned “consulting” detective, and probably the most famous fictional character of all time.

Now, I’ll start by saying that the BBC incarnation is not the first to be Spectrum labeled. In fact, Sherlock was my childhood hero, and the first “person” I saw referred to this way. My aunt, an avid reader herself, casually remarked to a friend “I’ve always wondered if Holmes is Autistic,” after I came yammering on about how fantastic the books were. Had I not been champing at the bit to get back to my reading, I might have asked her what that meant.

I also believe this fandom driven speculation is why many detective type characters (see above) are often coded as Autistic, intentionally or otherwise.

In this New York Times article, Lisa Sanders, M.D. describes Holmes traits:

He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world.

Now, before we go any father, let me take a moment to defend his creator. During the time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first created his most famous work, Autism was not known. That isn’t to say it didn’t exist. We’ve always existed. In fact, it’s now believed that the Changeling Myth, a common European folk story, was a way to explain Autism. In one telling (there are a few) children displaying “intelligence beyond their years” and “uncanny knowledge” were imposters, traded out by Fae creatures for offspring of their own. Children believed to be “Changlings,” regretfully, often came to a bad end. A chilling reminder that the stories we tell impact our real lives.

So while Autism was at least somewhat recognized, it did not become its own official diagnosis until 1943.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was first published in 1892. Now, as a writer who often draws from my personal reality, I imagine Doyle probably “wrote what he knew,” which is to say, acquainted with one or more Autistic people, he used them as inspiration.

On the other hand…

BBC’s Sherlock first aired in 2010. And while one might argue that the writers simply capitalized on the Autistic fan-theory, or took already available traits and exaggerated them for their version… they left a lot to be desired. Autism aside, this new Sherlock is…well…an asshole. Narcissistic, abusive and egocentric (to name a few) he sweeps his caustic behavior under the rug of “high functioning sociopath,” and blytly ignores the consequences.

Which is a major problem. Because while doing this, he’s still “obviously” (at least in the Hollywood sense) Autistic. In my previous post, where I said some characters are “too smart™, and logical© to ever have feelings, friends or empathy,” this is what I meant.

This is bad. We’re looping right back to Representation Matters. Bad representation, and the navigating of such, is just as important for writers to think about as good representation. Maybe even moreso. Because bad representation paints real people into cardboard, stereotyped people-shaped things. It otherizes. And it’s harmful. You would not believe the people I’ve met assume I’m not Autistic because I’m not an egotistical jerk. Why? Because they watched, you guessed it, BBC Sherlock.

Confession time:

Now here’s my little secret:

I love all of these characters. They are some of my favorite on tv. Why? Because for good or ill, I recognize myself in them. Finally, I can turn on the TV, and see myself. Or, somewhat, anyway.

My favorite character out of this list? Loath though I am to admit it… Is Sherlock. See, what those well meaning folks didn’t know (the ones who say I’m I’m “too nice,” to be Autistic) is… well, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t always nice. A few years ago, I was that guy. I was a jerk because I thought I was the smartest person in the room. Which is really not a good look. In fact, sitting down and watching the first season of sherlock, (around three or four years after it came out) made me realize how much of a jerk I actually was.

There are other things there too. Things that tie me to all these characters, that I didn’t list. But that’s for another today.

For now, I’d like to add a caveat or two:

1) I’ve watched all the shows listed above, and adore them. As I mentioned, Sherlock is my favorite. He’s also the one I’ve watched the most (Repeatedly, in fact. Whoops.) and I recognize it’s not all bad. In the end, he learned to treat people better (somewhat) and certainly became more human over time. And, there are other deeply problematic elements of the show I’d like to tackle, eventually.

*cough* Queerbating! *cough*

2) I’m well aware that the above cases are all thin, white, able bodied, “straight” males. But I chose these characters for a couple of reasons. One, they’re the most prominent type on TV. Again, we loop back around to representation, and why we need more positive, diverse examples of it.

And finally-

3) In my last post, I mentioned I’d give some “good” instances of Hollywood Autism trope. But I didn’t exactly do that. Partially, because half way through, I thought…perhaps…I’m not the best to judge what might be a good Autistic character. I mean, I’m sure someone will read this and think my current aforementioned characters are fine. Heck! They might even argue my perception here, and say the characters are just fine. I accept that. In my life, both on and off the page, I recognize that I cannot, should not (and don’t want to) speak for an entire community.

Because of this, I cannot tell you how to write a “good” Autistic character, or what media is “acceptable.” I can’t even really tell you what a bad character is. Sure, I have a lot of opinions about it. But- if you’re on the spectrum and like and identify with the above? That’s fine. I mean, even with all the problems I noted (and some I didn’t) I certainly do.

On the other hand, if you’re a writer, and you want to write a character from this (or any, for that matter) community you aren’t part of, I caution you.

Do your research. Preferably from multiple credible sources.

Talk to people on the spectrum about what it’s really like. (Though try to steer clear of asking for emotional labor.You could, say, hop on reddit and ask the community there, for instance, which is a no pressure way to obtain potentially decent info.)

Finally, whatever you do, remember this-

Autistic people can look like anyone. We can act, and think and be different, like anyone. We are real, living, breathing people. Not robots, not sob stories, not tropes. People. So if you write about us, write us like people. And your work will be all the better for it.

-Your Loving Vincent

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daydreamingabouthockey · 5 years ago

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Rough Day- Tyson Barrie

Plot: Tyson Barrie is having a rough time after being traded to Toronto. Y/n sees him on the TTC and tries to comfort him.

Note: I don’t know the guy or how he feels about the trade.But I guess anyone would be sad about being traded right? I loved him in Colorado so when he got traded from my favourite American team to my favourite Canadian team I was sad but happy. This was totally inspired by the fact I met him on the TTC a few months ago (he wasn’t crying don’t worry) but he was just staring off into space. he was lovely anyway. So thankful I got the subway that night instead of an Uber. Hockey gods were looking down on me!

Word count: 1,747

You stared down the platform, there was only one other person around, he was a a youngish guy. He was just standing there staring into space. You made eye contact but he noticed pretty quickly and turned away. that was awkward, you thought, but then again this was Toronto. You stare back up at the board, another five minutes to go. “Fuck should I should have gotten an Uber,” you mutter under your breathe shuffling your feet to keep warm. At least all of those leaf fans had gone now so the train would be empty. Not that you followed hockey, the fans were just a pain on match days. Finally you hear the hum and clink of the tram. “Finally” you huff.

You watched the tram doors open. It was empty now as a dozen people scurried off. It was nearly ten in the evening.The doors were about to shut when the young guy from earlier dashed through the door. He looked like he was in his mid twenties, with curly dark brown hair.His expensive looking suit and black coat he looked like a business man in the city.He let out a sniff and a laugh before sitting down opposite you. That’s when you realize he’s not laughing, he’s crying or more accurately sobbing. You stand there for a moment wondering what to do. You look around you two are the only people on the TTC. You stand there conflicted, he might be a weirdo crying but then again he sounded super upset. In this situation you’d want someone to check on you. Your mind was racing, if you heard something had happened to his guy tomorrow you would feel terrible you never said anything.

You get up and take the seat next to him. He doesn’t notice at first “Are you ok?” You ask, tapping him on his shoulder. “I mean obviously you're not but,” you say realising asking if he was ok was pretty dumb.

“No, not really I’m sorry I’ve just had a really bad day,” he says looking up at you with his dark brown eyes. His face is red and puffy from crying. “You wanna talk about it? I won’t judge,” you say giving him a simatheic smile

“I can’t,” he says looking down fiddling with his jacket sleeve.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry you're having a bad day…” you pause when you realize you don’t even know the man’s name. “Tyson,” he said sniffing again

“Tyson,” you said with a nod “I’m y/n”

“We all have bad days and that’s ok and there is no shame in crying, I don’t know what you're going through but, bad days and months they pass, I promise, I know it’s cliche, last month my boyfriend of five years out of the blue dumped me, it was hard we’d been engaged over a year, then my job made me redundant, I cried a lot but everyday the pain got less and less day and eventually I got back on my feet” you say, rooting through your bag for a pack of tissues. You finally find them and pass one over. “Really?,” he asked

“Yeah,” you says suddenly wondering why you’d told this stranger your life story. “That’s tough I’m sorry” ,he said dabbing his face.“its’s okay I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it about me, I’ll leave you alone now, I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” you say awkwardly getting up “ no please don’t leave me, I might be getting fired,” Tyson blurts out. “And I really really don’t want to be, that’s why I was upset”

“Oh,” you said, plopping back down on the seat. “Well no- one wants to get fired,” you say slowly.“I’ve only just moved to Toronto in the last few months and that was really hard, leaving my friends in Denver, but I had no choice,”

“I can understand that, I hated leaving my friends and family in LA, what makes you think you're being fired? I mean you don’t know?” You ask gently “I messed up, big style and now my manager wants to get rid of me, I know they do, I’ve heard the whispers and the worst part is I could end up anywhere in another city or town I hate, I just want to go back to Denver, I miss it so much,”

“They can’t fire you for one mistake and come on now Toronto isn’t that bad,” you laugh “No I guess not,” he sighed “it's just like Toronto is the central city for what I do so everyone is looking at me, in Denver it was just easier,”

“Ah okay, are you from Denver then?”

“No Victoria BC, my work means can I move around a lot,I’ve lived in Denver for eight years though” he said you could see his face instantly change and light up when he mentioned Denver“Well now I get why you wouldn’t want to leave Denver, I’ve heard it’s beautiful around there,”

“Oh it is,” he says sadly and you realise you’ve said the wrong thing. “Not that Toronto isn’t great too,it’s just different,” he says.

“I wouldn’t normally do this but, do you want to go out for a drink?” You ask offering your hand to get up just as the subway came to a stop ‘Sure why not,’ he said with a shrug grabbing your hand.

In the end the you ended up at your place. The two of you sat with a glass of red wine. He stretched out on your sofa, his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through the curly locks of hair. He told you all about his friends back in Denver Nate who was a big dumb boy who insisted people called him Nate dog with two g’s. EJ, Josty who she realises is not his real name but a nickname is a loveable pest and then there is the clear leader of the pack, Gabe who in Tyson’s words looked like a Swede god.But had a very big head literally Which Nate and Tyson made fun of all the time. You in turn told him about your weird friends and family and how you ended up coming from sunny La to cold snowy Toronto. It was strange you felt like you had been friends for years. You felt such a sense of ease and peace with this guy, like conversation was never forced yet you knew you had no romantic feelings for this guy and you knew he felt the same. Tyson ended up crashing on your sofa and in the morning you cooked breakfast together before you both had to leave for work. But before you did he said something rather odd. “Can you not tell anyone about this my weird breakdown? Can it be between us?” He said adjusting his tie “Yeah sure,”

The pair of you swapped numbers, you kept in contact texting now and then. Tyson had said his work was a little better his co-workers were supportive of him. Which made you happy although you knew he still wasn’t a hundred percent happy. He had booked a trip to Colorado to see his friends in the summer. You had tried to meet up a couple times but his work kept him busy and you had lots of things going on too. You knew he worked unsocial hours but what he exactly did was still a mystery to you. It wasn’t until two months later, you got that answer, when you saw Tyson’s face again. Except this time it was on tv. You were sat in a bar with your gal pals nursing a glass of red wine. “Toronto Maple leaf Tyson Barrie, has been traded back to the Colorado Avalanche in return for Nazem Kardri, the Victoria born player Barrie spent the year playing for the leafs in a statement he said “I’ve enjoyed playing for the leafs this last year, but I’m excited also to go back to Denver and play again for the avs with my old buddies,” the screen showed Tyson being interview his face beaming with happiness, the same guy but so different from the one you met that night on the train. “Can you turn this up please?” You ask the bartender. He nods. “Y/n I didn’t realize you were this into sports,” your best friend Jan says looking at you surprised “I’m not not really but I’m just interested in this story,” you say signalling to Tyson Barrie who they were showing shots of on the ice, “oh Barrie,” Jan said rolling her eyes. “what?” You ask curious, you’d never really followed hockey before.“He was terrible for the leafs I’m glad we are giving him back,”she says pointing to Tyson. “Poor dude give the guy a break,” you say sympathetically, not taking your eyes off the screen. “Why are you defending him, you don’t even watch hockey,” Jan asks You shrug “I dunno I guess it can’t be easy, being a professional athlete, having all eyes on you,”

“Because you know a lot about that, poor little millionaire,” Jan said taking another sip of her wine and rolling her eyes. You know that you don’t really know what it is like but you got a glimpse into that life when you met Tyson on the train that night. You had no idea he was a millionaire. Wow. Even still millionaires aren’t exempt from mental health problems. Especially when all eyes are on you. Now you understood why he disliked Toronto for his job so much. Toronto media were known in any sense for being ruthless. You excuse yourself to the washroom and once safely in the stall you get out your phone and send a text.

To: Tyson

I’m happy for you. I told you it would all work out eventually. X

To: Y/n

Thanks y/n,

To: Tyson

I’m just a phone call away if you need to talk x

You slip your phone back into your bag. “Who are you texting?” Your best friend asked raising an eyebrow. You give a smile, you weren’t going to tell them about your night with Tyson, you'd promised that night would just be between the two of you. “Just a friend,” you say. Your phone pinged again.

To: y/n

I’ll let you know and next time I’m in town maybe we can grab a drink?

To: Tyson

I’d like that Tys, good luck in Colorado xx

#toronto maple leaf imagine #toronto maple leafs writing #nhl imagine #nhl drabble #nhl fanfiction #tyson barrie fanfic #tyson barrie writing #colorado avalanche imagine #tyson barrie #tyson barrie imagine #maple leafs #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #my writing #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs imagines

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exhausted-joy · 5 years ago

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INTO THE WOODS [YANDERE!JIMIN] [03]

CHAPTER THREE.

SYNOPSIS: Park Jimin is your needy, clingy, summer camp cabinmate that both creeps you out and makes you regret ever trying to be socially engaged during your summer break. After submitting truckloads of request forms to switch cabins and getting rejected, you realize that you must swallow your pride and get comfy with your new cabinmate. He hates it and so do you—at least, that’s what you thought.

NOTE: This fic is now being co-written with the lovely @/Luciole on Quotev! Please show her some support, she is amazing. (-:

Want to be the first to know when I update? Add yourself to the tag list!

━━━━━━━━━

It’s amazing to think that you can memorize a tree based on the unique pattern of its bark just by seeing it a few times.

“Jimin, haven’t we seen this tree before? I swear we have.”

The boy glances up at you with an almost deadpan look, and lets out an inaudible exasperated sigh. His usual lack of response only unnerves you further, and although you would normally just accept that he was capable of nothing but one-syllable comments, while wandering around cluelessly in an extremely dense forest in the sweltering summer heat, his communicative malfunctions made you want to shake him until he’d spew out a proper, or at least mildly helpful reply.

Opting for another intense stare at the map, you exhale forcefully in a half-groan, half-sigh, your arms and the map along with them shaking as you did so. After trying and failing to convince yourself that there must be some correct information of any kind on the crumpled piece of paper, notably for the fiftieth time in an hour, you were about as helpless as the time you wrote your first chemistry test.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, if not even disinterested. If you were being honest, you were growing tired of taking the initiative on everything. Maybe if Jimin had spoken up, none of this would have happened. It was your first time at this camp and your roommate’s been coming here since presumably his younger days, so you expected him to know these trails like the back of his hand. However, you weren’t going voice your bitter thoughts just yet; you didn’t really know Jimin like that and you definitely weren’t down to getting shanked in the middle of nowhere.

Folding the useless map up, you shove it into your back pocket and cross your arms. Maybe you just needed to retrace your steps. How far away could the camp possibly be? It’s not like you were wandering for miles and miles - at least, that’s what it felt like. Turning around to face the direction which you came from, you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as you glance past Jimin’s unkempt head of black hair. The gears in your brain turn and grip onto each other so forcefully you could swear you are feeling the blood rush to your head and past your cheekbones, making your face a flushed mess. But you can’t help it, no matter how hard you try, what angle you look at it from and what little definite impressions of your trek this far you call to mind, the green behind you still appears the same as the one in front of you, and your heart beats a bit quicker as a slight uproar of panic tightens your chest.

“This is hopeless,” you mutter, screwing your eyes shut and sinking into a crouch. You let your fingers comb through your hair nervously.

You raise your head and shoot your supposed treasure hunt partner an evenly hopeful and defeated look. “You’ve been to this camp before, right Jimin?”

His heart threatens to pound through his ribcage the way your eyes search his. He puts a little more effort than usual into maintaining his stoic impression and only musters you as if not quite sure just what you want from him. Keeping his intense gaze locked on yours, he soaks his lips and furrows his eyebrows before shrugging nonchalantly.

“...Every summer, yeah.”

A small flicker of hope ignites in your chest and you quickly rise back up to a standing position. With a newly revived gleam in your eyes, you beam at Jimin, the thought of getting away from the miles upon miles of trees that surround you taking you to a happy place.

“So that must mean you know this place pretty well then, huh? Do you know where we are?” Your question doesn’t exactly catch Jimin off guard, per say, but it somehow makes him feel hesitant to answer. Of course, he knew the woods like they were the back of his hand. Where else could he have run off to when the bullying got particularly nasty? The forest is his refuge, his own little safety blanket - it was a part of him. But for some reason, he feels that if he leads you out of the labyrinth of trees and back to camp, his time with you will be cut short and things will go back to you only talking to him because you have to. He didn’t like the idea of that at all, and he hates the painful twinge of his heart when you aren’t paying attention to only him.

How could Jimin pass this opportunity up? Simple; he can’t. And he doesn’t.

“I don’t know.” He replies after a few moments of silence and strongly resisting the urge to smirk at his scheme.

And just like that you are sent back into the dark spiral of unknowingness. You consciously breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth as calmly as possible with closed eyes, yet you wind up sucking in as much air as your lungs can hold in a shaky gasp just to cough it out half a second later as if it was laced with acid.

Watching your unsuccessful attempts at calming yourself down, Jimin feels his heart drop. Of course, he wanted to stay with you for as long as possible, but seeing you in a state like this was worse than not having the chance to spend possibly the day with you…

But what if there was a middle way? Could he spend time with you while also somehow leading the way back to camp? It sounded stupid, even in his head - how could he possibly pull off a stunt like that? Something had to go wrong, something had to happen and he just had to jump in and save the day. Glancing at your trembling form, he bites his lip and shuffles his foot in the sticks and leaves that blanket the forest floor.

And suddenly, there was an arm around your shoulder and a warm form wrapped around your own. You jump at the sudden contact, quickly zipping your lips closed before an embarrassing squeak could escape. Jimin’s hands awkwardly pat your back while your face is squished against his chest. While the gentle embrace does distract you from your previous trauma, it instead replaces it with utter confusion and shock.

Was Jimin actually trying to comfort you right now? It was bad enough that you were lost in the woods with him, and now you have somehow broken him?

Clueless as to how to handle the situation you simply stand there, welcoming Jimin’s awkward back-patting and admittedly nice warmth as a useful way of slowly calming yourself down. Your previously tensed muscles relax allowing you to just concentrate on the slight shifting of your head every time his chest inflates with breath.

Ten seconds and two awkward pats later he slowly peels away to step back a small pace and look at you.You feel slightly chilly at the missing feeling of warmth.

“They’ll probably notice we’re missing...”

The ‘probably’ drives a pang of insecurity through your heart, but you wipe it away quickly. You had already allowed yourself enough drama today.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You straighten your spine. “We’d best stay here, it’ll make it easier to find us if we keep to one spot.”

Jimin nods silently in agreement, his dark eyes scoping out the very green clearing. It was better than nothing; he’d have half a day sooner than none with you any time, little as it may be.

Meanwhile you shift uncomfortably on the spot. Lord knows how long you have to wait for someone from camp to notice two of so many participants missing.

Deciding to lean against the nearest tree, you carefully muster Jimin out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to be too obvious or creepy. He doesn’t seem panicked at all, his face almost automatically re-assumes his usual passive expression.

You decide you’d just have to pass the time, so you slide down the tree trunk to a sit. Jimin hesitantly follows your example, seating himself across from you, and once again the most awkward of silences settles. Not that you’re not used to it by now.

The summer heat is still sweltering, so you opt to fan yourself with your hands while you ponder on starting a scientific research on how it was possible for someone to survive these cooking temperatures dressed in several layers of black clothing, and even though you are dying of fluid-loss by sweat in the shadow of your tree Jimin barely seems affected in all his hooded glory.

You stare at him, sitting barely three feet across. He stares back at you. You both look away. No one says a word.

Maybe you should scratch your last will into the trunk of a tree in case you have too much time on your hands. You heave out a sigh, and the wind almost seems to mimic you when a light breeze ruffles the trees.

“I guess we’ll have to uhm- pass the time somehow”, he pokes aimlessly at a pile of leaves with a stick. “You know, until they find us…”

After stuttering out the words, Jimin has to strongly resist the urge to pat himself on the shoulder. He’d actually talked to you- by himself not to mention.

His voice is barely audible and some of the words got stuck in his throat, yet you have to keep your eyes from widening to the size of saucers. The most antisocial person you’d ever known just tried, even if poorly, to start a conversation with you, and considering you were literally deep into the woods you weren’t one to miss a chance at possible human interaction.

“Yeah,” you follow his example and look around the forest floor for a stick, “So uh, for how long have you been coming to this camp exactly…?”

Jimin runs a hand through his messy black hair. He doesn’t answer right away, though he listens intently to every word.

━━━━━━━━━

It would be safe to say that your plan failed pretty epicly.

It’s currently just past dusk, and still no sign of anyone beside you and Jimin.

Speaking of whom, to your great surprise he’d actually managed to start a small campfire inside a ring of stones he found somewhere off between the trees. When asking him where he’d learned it, he only scrutinized you for a moment before solemnly answering “Camp.”.

You still sit across from him, only there’s a fire between you now.

Jimin speaks up. “...You should sleep.” You shoot him a quizzical look but his face stays passive as always.

“Yeah…” you mutter tiredly. “But what about you?”

He looks up at you in almost puzzled admiration. Not only had you just considered his existence, but you genuinely seemed to care cared for his well being- and he decides he likes it.

“I don’t sleep much.”

In any other circumstance his monotone replies would strain your nerves to infinity and beyond, but at the moment you’re just too tired to care.

You bring your head down to rest on your folded hands and shift on the dry leaves, for what must be the twentieth time, before finding a mildly comfortable position without having any stick or root poke at your back and creating any more bruises than you already have from the less than enjoyable day you had gone through.

Yet, somehow, while laying in the middle of the fallen leaves and grass, with your back to the small pile of burning wood your not so antisocial cabin mate had somehow crafted, you couldn’t help but quietly sigh in what seemed like content. You feel a certain tiredness surge through you, numbing your limbs as well as your senses, like that after spending a long day playing outside and climbing trees as a child.

In any other given moment it would seem crazy to think about a day lost in the woods as enjoyable, but as the small fire spreads warmth across your back it is the last thought that shoots through your mind before you become too weak to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut.

Just when your mind is about to go blank and give itself away to the sweet promise of sleep, you feel a soft fabric being placed over your torso in a blanket-like fashion, enveloping you with its comforting scent reminiscent of home. All your muscles relax and your conscious tiredly shuts down as you slowly descend into the welcoming arms of slumber.

Through your sleep hazy stupor, you hear Jimin rustling around a little bit away and, soon after, you think you can almost hear the familiar faint tapping of an electronic keyboard drifting through the comfortable silence.

But this time, as you somewhat contentedly lay on your bed of itchy sticks and stones, you are strangely okay with it.

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#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere park jimin #yandere park jimin x reader #yandere jimin x reader #bts #bts x reader #park jimin #anime #kpop #kpop x reader

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starspatter · 4 years ago

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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 14

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,526 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Lies, lies, lying little beast Lying little man on the corner of the street Singing "Why, I can't come out to play Can't come out and say that I'm afraid of what they'll say"

-Run River North, "Lying Beast"

————————–

Then.

Stephanie walked purposefully down the dormitory hallway towards her destination, which she had learned of through Cass after the other had shockingly announced she was now… “involved” with someone and asked point-blank for her advice. Steph had been surprised (not to mention maybe a tad jealous) that she had been granted visitation rights before her – especially when she herself wasn’t even sure if she had reached an official “dating” stage yet with her suitor- er, tutor (although they had undergone several “study sessions” together by this point) – but nevertheless was happy for her roommate. …Besides, her profile’s “single” status would hopefully change today.

Checking her hair and outfit, she nervously fixed and fidgeted a little in front of the doorway, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the entry. After a moment, it slowly creaked open a crack to reveal a rather confused-looking Tim.

“Steph? What are you doing here?”

“Hey! I just came to ask you something quick, if you’re not too busy.” She beamed her best and brightest.

Tim’s eyes darted anxiously aside as he swallowed.

“Uh, now’s not really a great time…”

“Who’s that, Tim? A friend of yours?”

Stephanie blinked as a stunningly beautiful woman unexpectedly emerged from behind Tim, ravishing red locks and coquettish lips smiling cordially.

“Ah, you must be Stephanie! Tim’s told me a lot about you.”

Steph’s gaze shifted suspiciously to Tim, who looked like his world had just come crashing down around him.

“…Has he now?”

The stranger grinned widely as she extended her slender palm, revealing twin rows of perfect pearl teeth.

“I’m Barbara Gordon. Pleasure to meet you.”

Tentatively, Steph took it.

“...Nice to meet you. Wait, ‘Gordon’ – as in the new Police Commissioner?”

The woman nodded.

“Bingo, you’re looking at her.” Her voice abruptly took on an authoritative tone. “I’m here on official police business, conducting a top-secret investigation. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any suspicious individuals around, would you?”

“Babs,” Tim cut in sharply as Steph started to sweat and panic. “That’s enough. Quit frightening her.” (Although rather than relieve her apprehension, it only increased further at such informal address.)

…On a first-name basis?

“Kidding, kidding. I’m giving a guest lecture on Criminology over in the West Wing. Speaking of which,” Barbara glanced at her wristwatch, “I should probably get going. Class starts in 10 minutes. I just came by to say ‘hi’ to Tim.”

She began to gather up her things, bustling out the exit with a wink to Tim on the way, who only winced and shrank further in response.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone. Take care, Tim. I’ll stop by again some other time.”

Steph watched her figure’s wake until it was gone, silently envying sophisticated style and… mature body shape as it sashayed away.

“She’s awfully pretty,” she mused aloud, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious. “What exactly is your relationship with her?”

Don’t tell me he’s actually into older women. There’s no way I can compete with that.

Tim rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s not what you think. She’s like an older sister.”

“…Seriously?”

How strangely ‘convenient’ all his supposed ‘relatives’ seem to be gorgeous supermodels.

“Trust me, there’s nothing like that between us.”

She gauged his earnest expression, before accepting assurance.

“All right, I believe you.” Her smile returned as she relaxed. “In that case…”

She fished around in her pocket, pulling out two tickets she won at the Theta-Kapa-Gamma Harvest Festival last week.

“Ta da~! Tickets to see the monster movie marathon at the old Monarch Theater on Saturday! You are free, aren’t you?”

Tim blinked as she practically shoved the tiny pieces of perforated paper in his face, fanning gleefully in invitation. Temptation.

“I am, but…”

He gulped, hesitating as he seemed to desperately search for an excuse.

“I’m… not really a fan of old films…”

He mumbled lamely, appearing extremely uneasy for some reason.

Oh crap. Don’t tell me I screwed up again.

Steph’s confidence sank in disappointment, recalling how she had once enthusiastically tried to engage Tim in a spontaneous water pistol fight going on in the campus courtyard (despite the season being somewhat ill-suited for the sport), having snuck up on him whilst the victim was reading unawares underneath the shade of a nearby tree, hitting him with a lighthearted squirt. He had sat there, stunned, as he stared at the childish toy weapon in her hand, before wiping his soaked cheek with the back of his sleeve. Slamming his book shut, he stated with such startlingly quiet, intense anger it took her aback:

“I don’t like guns.”

…Before standing up and stalking off in silence.

Still, she had hoped this would make up for it, that it could be something they’d both enjoy, spend some real quality time doing together (besides studying anyway, which she was starting to get sick and tired of as tests approached). Who didn’t care for a good old-fashioned camp scare around Halloween? …Maybe he just needed to give it a chance.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it. Have you ever even seen Dracula or Frankenstein?”

He shook his head.

“Whaaat, you’re missing out on some classics! Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ve both been working so hard, we deserve a break. Cass has a pair of passes too, so she and Conner are going to be there as well. We can totes double together.” (Incidentally, it had been a little odd how her partner had been so fortunate as to receive the exact same prize at the booth’s trivia guessing game right after her, but she’d learned not to question Cassandra’s keen – if sometimes creepily uncanny – sense of intuition.)

Tim bit his lip, but acquiesced at her pleading puppy eyes, which shone with eager stars of anticipation.

“…Okay.”

“Great! It’s a date then.” She exclaimed excitedly as she handed him his half of the voucher.

“A… date.”

He repeated robotically, surveying the stub as if in disbelief.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

She waved as she skipped off, emboldened by sweet success. In her jubilee, she accidentally ran straight into Conner as he coincidentally came round the corner, heading back to his room as well.

“Whoa, watch it there!”

He caught her just before she fell (unlike before, this sturdy target was obviously a lot harder to knock over), and she blushed a tinge as she felt his huge, strong arms wrap around her shoulder.

Man, what is it with me and bumping into hot guys recently? …Not that I’m complaining, mind.

She wasn’t sure whether to be overjoyed or embarrassed by this recurring situation, but settled for leaning towards the former. Conner, on the other hand, seemed a little less thrilled upon realizing the person in his grasp.

“Oh, it’s you. …Actually, good timing. I want to talk to you about Tim.”

He raised her up, but kept a firm grip on her collar as he drew her back round the bend. …It was almost a little painful, the amount of pressure his paw was putting on her petite stature. His countenance was severely solemn as he stooped forward to meet her level.

“…Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it so you don’t get the wrong idea. Tim’s… ‘delicate’. I mean, really delicate.” He frowned, icy blue irises flaring dangerously as his dense, digging fingers deepened into the folds of her blouse, contracting and contacting to the bone. “You need to watch what you say and do around him. I swear, if you ever do anything intentionally to hurt him, I will never forgive you. You got that?”

She recoiled, reasoning he was likely referring to the gun stunt.

Is he… making a genuine threat?

Steph was somewhat scared now as his shadow loomed over her, backing her against the wall. She nodded meekly.

“U- understood.”

“Good.”

He released her, and she rubbed at the sore spot on her skin, wondering if it was going to leave a bruise. She was also starting to wonder what the heck Cass saw in this big dumb brute. He was admittedly attractive, sure, but personality-wise he was Tim’s complete opposite: loud, brash, obnoxious – not to mention arrogant – basically your stereotypical jock. And yet…

“You really care a lot about Tim, don’t you?”

Conner sniffed. “Of course I do. He’s my best friend.”

…’Friend’, huh?

The way he behaved seemed to go far beyond mere “friendship” though. He was almost acting like an overprotective guardian. …Or a possessive one.

“Could it be that you’re… jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Of you?” Conner scoffed. “Why on earth would I be jealous? Just because you’re the one getting him to finally open up and trust you, participate in a bunch of social activities he never normally would, even though I’ve tried so hard to motivate him to be more outgoing over these past few years? To convince him to talk to me about his problems? To be the kind of stupid-ass cliché you huma- people find so damn popular just so no one else would dare to mess with him?”

He laughed like a bark, though it sounded slightly strained. Pained. Stephanie softened at such a display of devotion.

…Maybe he’s not such an oaf after all.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done a lot more for him than you give yourself credit for. I’m sure he appreciates having you as a pal.”

She cautioned a comforting pat on his broad muscle.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m trying to steal him away from you or anything. Besides, you’re doing the same thing for Cass, aren’t you? Trying to help her break out of her shell? Heck, I’ve noticed she’s been a lot more vocal ever since you two started seeing each other.”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You think? I mean, I guess you could say that. I dunno, it feels like I’m not really right for her… She’s so serious and deep, and – and next to her I feel like a total doofus most of the time…”

Stephanie couldn’t help but sympathize. They were a weird couple, to be sure, but then the same could easily be said about her and Tim.

“Hey, far be it from me to judge, but even if it doesn’t seem like you’re made for each other off the bat, I think you owe it to yourselves to try and explore those feelings at least. You never know, maybe it will work out.”

…It might’ve been her imagination, but the margins of his mouth seemed to twitch a bit at the word “made”. He coughed as he replied contritely though.

“Thanks. And, uh, sorry about being rough earlier.”

“It’s all right.” She smirked. “You were just defending your ‘delicate’ flower’s honor.”

A humiliated flush crept onto his visage.

“Oi, despite what you may have heard, it’s not like that.”

“It’s okay,” she giggled in understanding. “I feel the same way about Cass. …I suppose you could consider it even then?”

“Um… I suppose.” He looked confounded by the straightforward confession, but shrugged, not wanting to think too hard about it anymore, lest things get overly complicated. “So… We good then?”

She smiled.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

…

When the weekend rolled around, Stephanie dragged Cassandra clothes shopping before the big day, insisting on doing her hair and makeup as well. By the time they arrived at the cinema, the boys were already there waiting, checking their watches out in the cold. While she sheepishly apologized on both behalves for being “fashionably late”, Steph figured it was worth it when she saw their slack jaws at how much fashion had transformed them. The guys were dressed decently to impress as well, both sporting smart leather jackets (although Tim’s looked a size too big for him, and Conner still had on that ruddy black Superman T-shirt underneath that seemed like it came from a little kid’s closet).

She took the initiative in lining up with Tim to order snacks and soda, in the meantime telling the other two to go find four seats together. Luckily they didn’t have to wait long, as there didn’t seem to be many customers despite it being a Saturday. (To be fair those tickets were probably pretty cheap and undesirable to given away free at some college fest.) Although she kept chatting cheerfully to try and pass the time, her other company seemed even more uncomfortable than usual in the lightly crowded lobby, hardly able to carry a conversation – let alone the food – all the way to the viewing room. She began to worry if this had been a mistake to bring him here, and prayed the darkness and drama onscreen would at least be able to distract him enough to loosen up a little.

Cass and Conner had saved them two seats near the edge, and she sidled in next to her girlfriend (for moral support) while Tim took the one closest to the aisle. He kept glimpsing tensely around though, still just as jumpy as before.

“Hey, chill out a bit, will ya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s just, in my experience, this is usually the part where the place catches fire, or some punks try to rob the box office, or…”

She stared at him, shaking her head.

“You fret too much. Just try to relax and enjoy, okay? Here, have some popcorn.”

He passed on the salted kernels though, and she pouted as she popped one in her mouth, chewing over whether she’d made the right decision after all. He looked almost claustrophobic, stressed. In distress.

Things didn’t improve much as the motion picture started to play. The first feature presentation in the lineup was indeed Frankenstein, and although Tim managed to remain relatively calm enough throughout the monochrome, monotone introduction, he started to stiffen at the famous “awakening” sequence.

“Quite a good scene, isn’t it? One man crazy, three very sane spectators.”

Out of the crook of her eye, Steph sensed her companion cringe every time there was a thunderclap, as lights flashed and machinery sparked with mounting electricity, while the movie madman merrily turned the wheel to “adjust the batteries”. Together, he and his assistant unrolled the cloth covering the table to expose a humanlike form strapped to it, albeit with limbs limp and lifeless. Tim’s claw clutched at his armrest as the stretcher was gradually lifted up through a hole in the ceiling towards the stormy sky, where pulses of galvanizing lightning presumably struck the subject repeatedly.

Stephanie divided concentration back and forth between the increasingly agitated boy beside her and the big screen in growing alarm as his breathing accelerated, gasping and wheezing audibly as he bent forward and put his hyperventilating head between his knees. Cass and Conner were casting concerned looks as well, while other annoyed audience members revolved around and shushed to keep it down. As her attention was arrested by the scientist maniacally screaming “It’s alive!” over and over again, she turned back one last time to ask if Tim was all right in a worried whisper – but there was no answer.

Tim was gone.

————————–

Oh Lord, whatever did I say? Whatever made me think that this was all okay? No one held me to the flame The hell if I could take the dark from my face

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Conner Kent #Cassandra Cain #Barbara Gordon #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #*picks up all her gay kiddies and puts in a protective basket*

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jade4813 · 6 years ago

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A Lie, Told Often Enough, Chapter 17

Author Notes: Inspired by @fallinginloveinaflash‘s AU prompt. All credit for the idea goes entirely to her.

Title: A Lie, Told Often Enough

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Iris just landed her dream job at a PR firm and her first assignment is reforming the bad boy image of celebrity artist Barry Allen. He’s overly cocky and well-known for being a playboy, but Iris has never met a challenge she couldn’t handle.

Chapters: 17/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

He had almost told her the truth.

He’d been thinking about it for weeks. Wanting to tell her how he felt. He’d even rehearsed what he was going to say as he combed his hair in the morning and climbed into bed at night.

He’d almost told her when he first saw her there, standing at the side of the stage. But with all those people around, he hadn’t been able to find the words.

He’d almost told her again when he saw her backstage, after the show. But then he’d realized she was dressed in nothing but a towel and all thoughts of a confession had fled.

After making love to her that night, with her curled up in his arms. But she’d fallen asleep. In the morning, in between sleepy kisses. But then fear crept in. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if it ruined everything?

The courage only came when it was too late, and so he’d told her he wanted to talk to her about their future and let her go so she wouldn’t miss her plane. Because they weren’t words that should be hastily blurted as she rushed out the door.

But he wanted to tell her he loved her. He didn’t think he could bear to keep his feelings secret much longer.

“I’ve been thinking a lot. About our future. And I don’t want to lie about us anymore. I want this to be real. Iris, I’m in love with you. Whatever direction my life goes in the future, I want it to be with you. And we don’t have to really be engaged right now, if you aren’t ready for that, but I want to go on a date. With you. A real date. What do you think?”

Barry grimaced at his reflection as the muttered question left his lips. That was terrible, and not just because he was practicing his confession around a toothbrush as he got ready for bed. He made a living through words; why was it that every time he tried to find the perfect words to tell Iris how he felt, he sounded like an eighth grader asking his first crush out to the prom?

Scowling, he finished getting ready for bed and then grabbed his phone. He could text her. No, that was a terrible idea. There were two things Barry firmly believed should never be done over text – breaking someone’s heart and confessing your deep and abiding love for them.

Over the phone? It wasn’t much better. Less impersonal than text, to be sure, but it still felt like the coward’s way out.

So what was he going to do? He had to tell Iris he loved her. He had to know if there was even the slightest chance that one day she might feel the same way about him.

He began to pace back and forth, muttering mangled bits of previously rejected confessions. And then he had an idea. In two nights, he was performing a show in Star City. It wasn’t part of the official tour, but billionaire Oliver Queen had booked him for an exclusive event – a surprise belated birthday party for his sister, Thea. Normally he wouldn’t have tried to squeeze an extra event into an already packed tour schedule, but Thea had been a fan from the very early days of his career, and he and Oliver had struck up an unlikely friendship over the years. He suspected they both felt the same internal conflict of trying to live up to society’s expectations while also feeling inside like they might have been destined for more.

At any rate, given Oliver’s love-hate relationship with publicity, he should be able to offer some guidance, even if his love life had historically been something of a wreck. He seemed to have found more solid footing in his relationship with Felicity Smoak, so Barry hoped he would have some words of wisdom to share. Whatever he said, it had to be better than Barry’s own pathetic attempts at confession.

“Barry! You were amazing!” Thea exclaimed as she threw her arms around him in a big hug. “Thank you for agreeing to do the show. I don’t know how my brother talked you into it; I know you’re busy with your tour.”

“Anything for my number one fan, Thea,” he said with a smile, returning the embrace.

Stepping back, she grinned up at him. “Do you mean number one as in ‘biggest’ or in the ‘I knew you before you were famous’ kinda way?” she teased.

He faked a grimace. “Don’t remind me.” He’d first met Thea before he hit it big, right after he and Cisco formed their band and spent their weekends playing for drunk college students at frat parties. She’d attended one of the parties in question and had approached them after to say she thought they had a lot of talent. She’d offered to help bankroll their first album, with the help of her personal trust fund, but that was in the days before either man considered music a viable career and they’d turned her down. And so, when hobby became passion project and passion project became a career, Barry ended up making connections in the music business on his own. But the memory of Thea’s faith in him had helped him resist the temptation to give up in the early years, when faith in himself was sometimes hard to find.

“Hey, just remember, we could have been partners!” she replied, though her words came with a smile that promised him she didn’t bear a grudge for turning her down, all those years ago.

Barry laughed and caught her brother’s eye as he approached for a hug of his own. “Yeah, but then I’d have to put up with this guy more often,” he joked.

“Oh, you’re right. Good call, then. Definitely not worth it.” Thea laughed at her brother’s scowl. Meanwhile, Barry stepped past Oliver to greet his girlfriend, Felicity, taking an awkward moment to decide if a handshake or a hug would be more appropriate. In the end, they both settled on a stilted one-arm embrace, quickly ended.

As he pulled away, he heard Thea gasp. “Oh, my god. She came!” Her voice was an excited squeal as she raced past Ollie towards the door. After glancing towards the doorway, her brother mumbled a promise to return in a moment and followed.

“Who’s that?” Barry asked, watching as Thea threw her arms around a tall brunette in a black dress that could have been painted on.

Next to him, Felicity shrugged, grabbing a drink off a passing waiter’s tray. “Laurel. Amazing Laurel. Lovely Laurel. Perfect Laurel.” When Barry glanced at her, she added, “Lovely Laurel who used to be Oliver’s fiancé. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about her miraculous return from the dead?”

“I’ve been on the road!” he cried defensively. He knew of Laurel and Oliver’s past from his years of knowing Thea in college, but he hadn’t realized she’d returned. Though he supposed in the past several weeks, he had heard snippets, fragments of news stories while flipping through the channels at night before crawling into bed. Watching the woman smile at Thea and ignore Oliver completely, the pieces started to come together.

Laurel Lance had been Oliver’s on-again-off-again ex-fiancée. The week after college graduation, the two had taken a private cruise on the Queen’s family boat to repair their somewhat fractured engagement. The ship hit a storm, and Laurel had gone overboard. Her disappearance had been covered extensively – as had the Queen and Lance families’ efforts to find her. Her body had never been recovered, and she had eventually been presumed dead. Her father, Quentin Lance, had made it very clear that he held Oliver personally responsible for his daughter’s death.

Over the last few weeks, Barry had heard snippets of stories proclaiming the miraculous return of Laurel Lance, as well as her reluctance to give many details on where she’d been in the intervening years. The name had sounded vaguely familiar, but he’d flipped channels and hadn’t given it sufficient thought to remember why.

“That must be complicated,” he remarked, following Felicity to a table to take a seat. Seeing the scowl on her face, he asked, “I know it’s none of my business, but you’re not, um, worried about Oliver, are you?”

“The press keeps asking me the same thing, curiously enough. They won’t leave me alone about it.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” he offered apologetically.

Felicity sighed. “No, I know. It’s not you. The truth is, it’s not about Ollie. He swears that his feelings for Laurel are in the past, and I believe him.”

There was enough reluctance in her voice, that he prompted, “But?”

“But,” she parroted, drawing out the word before letting her voice trail off again as she stared into her drink. Finally, she lifted her gaze to his. “Ollie is the love of my life, and I don’t regret a single minute I’ve been with him. But his life is so public, every moment I’m with him is like living in a spotlight. I can’t even leave the house now without press asking me what I think about the unexpected return of his ex-girlfriend. I can barely get five minutes alone with him to talk about it.” She threw him a wry smile. “I love him, but sometimes I wonder. If I’d known what being with him was going to be like, would I have called in sick that day at work when we first met?”

Barry didn’t know how to respond to that, so they sat in silence until they saw Laurel give Thea another hug. Then she turned, said a few words to Oliver, and left as he made his way back to the table.

Some time later, the party was winding down and Barry found himself alone at the table with Oliver while Felicity chatted with Thea. Not certain if they were good enough friends for him to intrude, Barry chose his words carefully as he ventured, “Hey, are you okay?” When Oliver shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, he added, “You’ve been kind of quiet tonight. You want to talk about it?”

Oliver threw him a grim smile. “I take it Felicity told you about Laurel?”

“I could have heard it from the news,” he protested slightly.

Oliver grunted and shook his head. “It’s okay. I haven’t really been there for her lately. Not like I should have been. I’m glad she talked to someone.”

Barry took a sip of his beer as he considered his next words. “She wants to be there for you, you know.”

“I know. I just can’t stop thinking about my mistakes. About everything that happened with Laurel.” At his companion surprised look, he grimaced. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not that I want to be with her now. I’m not the person I was when I was with her, and maybe losing her the way I did is part of the reason why. Living with the questions and the guilt, maybe it made me grow up a little.

“But I can’t help but wonder what happened to her that night. What she’s been through. I look at her now, and I can see that she’s not the woman she used to be. Maybe she’s better. I don’t know. But I can’t help but think that whatever happened to her, it’s my fault. She wouldn’t have been on that boat that night if it wasn’t for me. So I feel like even knowing me ruined her life, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

It was still dark outside when Barry awoke to the sound of his phone ringing insistently on his hotel room nightstand. Keeping his eyes closed, he rolled over and grabbed for it, answering it with a grunt that approximated an incoherent hello.

“Mr. Allen. I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you would want to know about this right away.”

It was Ralph Dibny, a member of his security team. Responsible for Iris’s detail. In a split second, Barry was instantly awake, clutching his phone in his fist as he sat bolt upright in bed. “What happened?”

Iris was alone. It wasn’t just Barry’s absence that made her feel so lonely. There was nobody she could talk to about it. Nobody she could confess her feelings to. Nobody who would understand. Almost everybody she knew thought her relationship with Barry was real, and everybody else thought it wasn’t. The truth was somewhere in the middle, and nobody would understand that. So Iris was alone.

She ducked her head, foregoing a struggle with her umbrella as she raced to the door. She ignored two flashes to her left, even as she recognized some grudging admiration for the dedication necessary to stand out in the rain on the off chance they caught a photo of her.

It was exhausting, and she had no idea how Barry managed it for so long. It was only bearable to her because it was worth just about anything, loving him. Being with Barry made her happy. Everything else – the fans and fame and paparazzi around every corner – was just a distraction. Window dressing. Stuff and nonsense. It was part of the life he led, and so she accepted it as the price she paid for loving him. But she would have been just as happy without it, if it meant walking up every morning with him in her arms.

“When I get back, we should talk. About our future. There’s something I-I need to tell you.”

She smiled as she remembered his words because she realized he was right. They needed to talk. She needed to tell him that she loved him. That she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. That she was tired of pretending like it was all an act when, for it, it had become all too real.

For so long, she’d struggled to hide her feelings, afraid of what would happen if he discovered that she loved him. Afraid he wouldn’t love her in return. The thought was still frightening – terrifying, really – but if she’d learned anything from living without him for these last few weeks, it was that she didn’t want to live that way anymore. She didn’t want to have half of him and lie to herself that it was enough. Maybe she would lose him, telling him the truth. But if she kept her silence, she would lose him anyway, once his contract with Mason concluded.

“When he gets home, I’m going to tell him the truth,” she whispered to herself as she slid her key into the lock and twisted. The storm had picked up, and she hunched her shoulders to block out the wind and rain. “Once life with him is back to normal.” She turned the knob in her hand and stumbled inside, her wet feet sliding a little on the polished tile. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it, groaning, “God, I can’t wait for life to get back to normal.”

She heard a sound and opened her eyes to find Barry standing in the middle of his living room, staring at her with an inscrutable look on his face. Behind him, she saw that he’d already set two places for dinner, and she could tell at a glance that he’d gone all out to impress her. She blinked, frowning slightly, as it took her a second to realize that it was real, that she wasn’t imaging things. He looked so good in ratty old jeans and a faded t-shirt; it was hard to believe he was truly there.

“Barry!” she yelled, launching herself off the door and into his arms. His arms almost crushed the breath out of her as he lifted her off her feet.

He was home, and she was in his arms. Right where she belonged.

There are times in life that everything comes together perfectly. All the pieces fall into place, and you feel like everything has been building to one moment. The universe conspires to give you one perfect moment. Maybe you turn left instead of right, and you meet that one person who can give you your first big break. Maybe you duck into a coffee shop instead of rehearsing before a show, you see a woman’s smile from across the room, and something deep in your soul recognizes you were born to love her.

But sometimes things go the other way. Sometimes it feels like the universe is conspiring to rip your heart out of your chest and break it into a thousand pieces. Though she couldn’t possibly have known it, Iris’s words, muttered as she leaned against the door, were that last piece falling into place. Everything in the last few days was coming together to break Barry’s heart.

“I love him, but sometimes I wonder. If I’d known what being with him was going to be like, would I have called in sick that day at work when we first met?”

“Knowing me ruined her life, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

“Iris is fine, but there have been some developments that you should know about…”

“God, I can’t wait for life to get back to normal.”

Barry held Iris to him, burying his face in her hair. His arms trembling like it was the last time he would ever hold her this way.

“I wasn’t expecting you home tonight!” Iris cried, cupping his face in her palms and pressing her lips against his.

“Iris has been getting some threats online. She doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about yet, but I think we should increase her detail until we know for sure. Some people have been threatening to show up at all her public engagements to tell her to leave you alone. Mostly the usual threats, but what is concerning is that they have said enough to suggest that they have gotten their hands on her schedule somehow. And that is a concern…”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here. But I had the evening off, so I thought I’d come see you.”

“We recently caught someone peering into the apartment windows. He didn’t try anything, and luckily, she wasn’t home. She had gone to see you…”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his.

“But when my guys caught him, he was carrying pictures of her…”

Barry tried to ignore the voices in his memory to focus instead on the woman in his arms. “I made dinner. Are you hungry?”

Iris laughed. “Starved.”

They sat down to eat, and at first, he cold pretend like the rest of the world didn’t exist. But the voices didn’t leave him alone.

“I love him, but sometimes I wonder. If I’d known what being with him was going to be like, would I have called in sick that day at work when we first met?”

“Knowing me ruined her life, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

“He swears he didn’t intend her any harm, but who knows what would have happened if she had been home…”

“I can’t wait for life to get back to normal.”

God, she’s beautiful, he thought as he stared across the table at her, her smile illuminated by the flickering candlelight. But then he remembered the sadness in Felicity’s eyes. The regret in Oliver’s. And the weariness and longing in Iris’s voice when she’d longed for the life she used to have.

“I love him, but sometimes I wonder.”

“I ruined her life, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

“I can’t wait for my life to get back to normal.”

He couldn’t put it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what he needed to do. “Iris, when you came to see me, I told that you we need to talk about the future…”

“I remember!” she interjected. “And, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, too. Barry, I –”

“I think we should end this. We can wait until the tour is over, if you want. I mean, I did promise to be there for you, and I don’t want you to think I’m not. But we should talk to Mason about how to announce the end of our engagement when the tour is over. We should start preparing for it now.”

Iris froze and stared at him with wide eyes. Unable to hold her gaze, Barry let his drop to the plate in front of him, which is when he realized he’d barely touched his food. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

He heard her make a soft sound, a nearly inaudible clearing of her throat. When he looked up at her again, he saw that her face was devoid of expression. “Oh,” she breathed, carefully putting her fork down on her plate before dropping her hands to her lap. “I – um – I guess I am surprised. I thought you wanted to wait until you were offered a role that demonstrated your image had changed…”

Barry winced into the silence that fell when her voice trailed off. Then he shrugged. “I did, originally. But I’ve been thinking about it lately, and who knows when that will happen? Or even if. I can’t ask you to put your life on hold for something that may never happen.”

“You’re not asking me to put my life on hold. We have an agreement, remember?”

“I know,” he answered, somehow made even more miserable because she sounded so calm, so unaffected. “But still, I-I think it’s time to put an end to it. I’m sorry.”

Iris cleared her throat, louder this time, as she took a sip of her wine. “Don’t apologize. This is business, right? That’s all this is. Business. So why are you sorry?” Silence fell between them, and she worried the corner of her napkin between her hands. “All right, have you thought about what you want to say? How you want this to go? I should probably take the blame for the breakup so—”

“No!” he cut her off. “That is one thing I am sure about. We can say that we grew apart while I was away or that we realized that my being on the road so much was going to be too hard. But I will take the blame. Not you.” He reached for her hand, but she either didn’t see it or she ignored it because she didn’t reach back. “I don’t want to make this any harder on you that it’s already been.”

Her smile was tight as she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and flung her napkin on top of her unfinished plate. “It’s not that hard, Barry. Like I said, this is business. Business arrangements end all the time. Right?” He was too miserable to respond and wasn’t sure what he would say anyway, so he did what he had learned early in his career to do when he couldn’t find the right words. He stayed silent.

“Well, I suppose you have a point,” she mused, pushing her chair away from the table. “If you announce that you were the one to end it, people won’t be as surprised when they hear you found someone else to date on the road.”

Barry shook his head, reaching for her again, but she stood and started to pace, ignoring his hand. He rose to his feet behind her. “That isn’t what this is about, Iris –”

“No, of course not,” she cut him off. “This is just the inevitable conclusion to the agreement we made. But they don’t know that, and we don’t want them to know that. We don’t want them to ever know all of this was a lie. Every single second of it. So you have to do the smart thing, and that means being seen dating someone else. When the time is right, of course.”

She spun on her heel to face him. “You’re right. You should be the one to break it off. Because then the world won’t see you as the one who was heartbroken. They’ll see me as the one who wasn’t good enough. That’s better.”

“That’s not what I want,” he protested, grabbing her shoulders to stop her pacing. He stared into her eyes, willing himself to see something. Any indication that he had meant something more to her. That all of this had meant more to her than just a business transaction. But perhaps it was better that he didn’t. At least he knew he hadn’t hurt her.

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s the truth.” When he started to protest, she gave a quick shake of her head. “I mean, it’s the truth we need them to believe. We need them to think that you’re still the good guy, or all of this has been for nothing.”

Barry didn’t know which hurt more – losing her, or knowing she didn’t care if he did. “I-I should go,” he blurted abruptly, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “I have a show tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll have all my stuff out of here by the time you return home.”

“No, that’s –” he began to protest before realizing how absurd it would be to try. He was breaking off their pretend engagement. She could hardly continue to live with him under the circumstances. “I-I don’t want to lose you, Iris. You’ve meant too much to me.”

It was the first time he saw a reaction from her as she winced at his words. Her gaze fell to the floor, but her eyes were hard when she looked up at him again. “Don’t be silly, Barry. None of this was real. You know that better than anyone. And you can’t lose something you never had.”

He could no longer stand to hear the truth or see it in her eyes. So he fled. He’d been afraid he was going to break her heart, but it turned out the only heart he broke was his own.

#a lie told often enough #barry allen #iris west #fanfiction #my fanfiction #rock star au

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