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pedal-writes · 6 months ago

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Homesick (2)

A/N: This one is a bit longer despite it honestly being filler but yk I gotta keep the grind up guys 🙏 oh yeah, don't mind the obligatory fanfic bestie, she isn't gonna have that big a role after this don't worry guys, big peepaw robot will only be on the mind soon lolz

Oh yeah and I added some dialogue from the book in here bc it's easier to translate that then movie dialogue so I'm gonna switch between the both of those, just an FYI!

It’s been about a week or so since you arrived in L.A.. Like Sam boasted about, he managed to get a car, a yellow camero to be exact. It was amusing how much he rubbed it in your face as if you didn’t get a car when you were literally his age. But you weren’t that bothered by his sudden load of cockiness and was just happy he managed to get some independence for himself.

Today, Felicity wanted to meet up with you and catch up over some dinner and maybe a shopping spree at the mall. She had been talking about it all week but couldn’t see you until now since she hasn’t found a good time to take off from work. You went through your suitcase and found a few cute clothing items that screamed casual but also girls night (more like day) out. As you picked up your purse and made sure all of your essentials were inside, you made your way out of your bedroom and down the stairs. A small chuckle left your lips when you heard your parents muffled voices bickering outside. They were working on the yard for the past few hours and your mom would constantly harp on what your dad did wrong. It was a little funny honestly.

Suddenly, you felt someone walk past you and a muffled sorry escaped their lips. You glanced over in confusion and saw Sam go into the garage. You snorted and decided to follow him, out of pure curiosity. As you walk into the garage and lean on the door frame, Sam scrambled to find his keys. “Hey Sam, what’s goin’ on?”

Sam glances over, his demeanor dropping a bit in annoyance. “I’m uh, going to this lake party. Miles is gonna come with me so y’know…”

“Wait, you got invited to an actual party?” You responded with a twinge of surprise in your voice. “No offense.”

“I mean not… officially. It’s a public place, anyone can go to the lake.” Sam said, making his way past you and towards one of the back doors. “And why are you so done up? You don’t usually wear clothes that nice.”

“Wh— Okay I’m going to ignore that you just said that. Anyways, Felicity is gonna pick me up in a few because she wanted to catch up since we haven’t seen each other in like forever.” You say as you adjust the purse hanging on your shoulder. As the name ‘Felicity’ leaves your mouth, Sam groans over dramatically and turns towards you. “You’re seriously still friends with that girl?”

“Duh! She’s my best friend Sam.”

“Yeah, more like she’s the best at being annoying. She would literally come here every single day after school and you two would talk about whatever girl problems you two had and by the way, I heard everything. The walls are very thin in this house.” Sam opened up the door and began to walk out. “I have no idea how mom and dad even tolerated it because I didn’t! You guys didn’t even listen to me when I complained.” He rants irritably, making his way towards the driveway.

“But she had a troubled home life! I was the only one there for her. And she hasn’t spent the night here since I was in high-school. That was, what, five years ago?” You explained as you followed close behind him. Both of you managed to step onto your father’s, Ron’s, lawn. “You two, I do not like footprints on my grass. Please step onto the very nice path I ever so carefully laid down.”

“Oh, sorry dad.” You mumbled and retraced your steps. You could practically hear Sam’s eye role as he begrudgingly did the same. “Mom, seriously, could you stop putting jewelry on Mojo? He’s got enough self-esteem issues as a Chihuahua without you pimping him every day.”

Judy frowned at her son. “You know I don’t like for you to use that term,” She scolded.

“Maybe you should put him back in the dryer, hon.” Ron said playfully.

You glanced towards your mother with a confused expression. “Wait, that’s how Mojo broke his leg? Mom, you told me he jumped off the counter and fell weird.”

“I– I was ashamed, it’s embarrassing. And It was an accident, Ron! I didn’t know he fell asleep in the laundry basket. You know how hard he is to see sometimes.” Judy reached down and picked up the small dog, cuddling him close to her chest despite Mojo’s frantic means to escape her grasp. “How’s your little leggy-weggy, huh, tough guy?” She cooed.

Hearing a small buzz come from your phone, you grab it from your pocket and see a message from Felicity.

‘I’m here nerd :P GET UR ASS OUT HERE!!’

“Oh uh, Felicity’s here. I’ll see you guys later. And have fun at your lake party, SAM.” You walk back into the house and hear a cut off ‘shut up’ as you close the door behind you. From the windows at the front of the house, you see that familiar white convertible parked in front of the house and excitedly open the front door, locking it behind you.

“Hey you! Long time no see.” Felicity said, resting her sunglasses on top of her head. You walk towards the car and open the door to sit inside. “Yeah, it’s certainly been awhile.” You lean over and give Felicity a hug, cringing slightly at the amount of perfume she’s wearing.

“So how are you? How’s your job?” Pulling away, she starts the car and drives down the neighborhood’s street. “I’m doing alright. I uh… quit my job. Some stuff happened with another coworker and I just couldn’t work there anymore.” You hesitantly answered, fidgeting with the strap of your purse.

“Oh snap. Was it like a creepy coworker thing or…”

“No no, nothing like that. Well I guess… kinda. It’s complicated. I had no idea what this guy’s problem with me was but he wouldn’t leave me alone! Always harassed me before, during, and after work. I tried to report him to H.R. but since he was positions above me, they just gave him a slap on the wrist.” You paused for a few moments and felt your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. “So one morning, I was so pent up I… hit him. Like punched him, really hard. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose and screwed up my hand really badly. It was a stupid thing, really…”

Felicity stayed quiet for a few seconds before a smile creeped onto her face. “That is so badass.”

You looked at her dumbfounded. “It was not badass!”

“It so was! You were like ‘you want a piece of me?! Bam!’ and then the creep went down. I bet he never bothered you again after that, huh?” She quipped, that same dumb smile resting on her face.

“No, he didn’t. But it cost me my job! It’s just really unprofessional.”

“But didn’t you quit it?”

You sighed. “I quit out of embarrassment, before they would inevitably fire me.”

“Oh. Well, since you’re so smart, I’m confident you’ll find another one. Maybe one without a weirdo guy.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” You rested your elbow against the hard material on the door and laid your head against your cheek, staring at the passing buildings and people with a mopey expression. You really were disappointed you lost a job that both perfectly matched your interests and paid highly. Maybe after being in L.A. for a few weeks will raise your spirits enough to start job hunting again, and get out of this weird depressive funk that’s been preventing you from doing so.

Felicity noticed your change in attitude and cleared her throat, changing the subject. “So I’ve been following this one news blog and apparently there are some high tensions between the U.S. and some other countries for some reason. I really hope a war doesn’t start because that would be, like, really bad.” She says, glancing between you and the road ahead of her.

“Oh yeah,” You sit up again and look at her. “I’ve seen stuff like that on the news. If a war does start, they would start drafting people right?”

Slowly the restaurant came into view and Felicity pulled the car into the parking lot. “Pretty sure, but only boys though. Woohoo for us I guess… Speaking of boys, how’s Sam doing?”

“He’s doing fine. He got a car recently, It’s kind of a piece of junk though. And he also still hates you.”

Felicity laughed as she pulled into an empty parking space. “Yeah I figured. Should I apologize to him? Since I kind of invaded your personal life for a good while.” She turned off the car and stepped out, grabbing her purse. You think about it and eventually nod, also exiting the vehicle. ”He’s annoying for sure but I’m gonna say yes. I care about the both of you and I don’t want any bad tension between you two, as funny as it is.”

“I’ll remember that. Oh, and when we get in here, only one alcoholic beverage. Cause I am not dragging your drunk ass out of here like last time.” She playfully bumped her shoulder into yours and opened the front door for you.

“What that– It was my 21st birthday! That’s not fair. I even said I wouldn’t do something like that again.” You argued.

“Riiight, okay. Just get in here.” You rolled your eyes and mumbled a ‘whatever’, to which Felicity chuckled.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was already night time when you and Felicity were done shopping at the mall. She was a bit of a bad influence considering how overboard you went with the shopping, with her excuse being ‘you’ll probably rarely get chances to visit Cali again so make it worth your while!’ But despite the amount of money you spent, you deemed it worth it considering you found the cutest pair of Uggs. As the two of you walked down the sidewalk, You let out a small sigh as you realized how far away Felicity had actually parked. It was a Saturday night so of course the mall was packed, so it made sense for her to park a block or two away.

What you both didn’t know was that there was a looming police car in the distance behind you, slowly creeping.

“Remember that one time in sophomore year when you liked that one jock-y kind of guy and during valentines day, you went up to give him a valentine and literally fell on your face?” You laughed, adjusting the bags in your hands so they wouldn’t be as uncomfortable in your hands.

“Oh my god, that was so embarrassing! It gives me second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it.” Felicity shivered.

“Hey, at least he asked if you were ok, even if he rejected you afterwards…”

“Ugh, can we talk about something else? Please?”

Soon, Felicity’s car came into view and you both crossed the street with urgency. As you put your bags in the backseat and got into the car, your brows furrowed at the police car parked beside the sidewalk you and Felicity were just walking. “Uh, Was that Cop car always there?” You pointed out to your friend.

“Mm, yeah no. I’m pretty sure he just drove up. He’s probably keeping a look out for thieves or junkies or something.” She replied, starting the car and beginning to pull out of the parking space. “Unless, you’re the thief.”

You playfully scoffed. “I wouldn’t steal anything!”

“I’m just joshing with you.” Felicity patted your back and drove down the dark street. A few minutes would pass before you would see that same cop car following behind you two from that same far distance as before. You brushed it off, he was probably just driving to get something to eat or go back to the station. But as Felicity turned the car a few more times and the car still didn’t change its direction, you started to get a little anxious.

“Felicity, that cop car is legitimately following us now.” You mumble, staring into the rear view mirrors with a small pit in your stomach.

“What? Should I pull over?” She replied in a worried manner.

“I don’t think so… He would turn his lights on or–or yell at us to pull over by now.”

Felicity decided to take a different way to your house and went down a darkened street with almost no streets nor people, to try and maybe lose him. The two of you still kept your eyes on the rear view lights before the car suddenly stopped. It sat there for a few seconds before making a U-turn and going back the way it entered, almost like it was being called by something. You both sighed in relief, “Thank god…” You muttered.

“That was really weird… Do you think he was gonna kidnap us or something?” Felicity looked at you with wide eyes.

The thought irked you a bit and you shook your head. “I don’t want to think about it, I just want to go home.”

Felicity nodded understandably and went back onto the regular route to your house. The ride wasn’t that long and as the car drove down your neighborhood’s street, the familiar shape of your family's home came into view. “Thank you for coming to hang out with me, I really missed you. And I’m sorry it ended weird with the whole cop thing…” Felicity said with a small frown on her face.

You huffed, leaning in and giving her a hug. “It’s okay. At least he left us alone and I got to spend some time with you.” You pulled away and smiled, to which she returned. You reached in the back and grabbed your bags, stepping out and closing the car door with your hip.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, please get home safe Fel.”

“Will do, tell your parents I said hi!” With that, Felicity started her car again and drove down the street. You watched her drive away for a few seconds before going into your house. When you opened your door, it was dark and you were pretty sure your parents were asleep. You walked up the stairs and you heard Sam’s muffled talking coming from his room. Something about how leaving someone behind at the lake wasn’t that big a deal and to ‘get over it.’

You snorted and headed towards your room, setting your bags down and closing the door. It was a bit late but you could probably still squeeze a shower in, considering you felt a bit sweaty from walking outside all that time. You took off your shoes and grabbed your towel off of the door, walking back into the hallway and into the bathroom. You didn’t want the shower to be too long considering how late it is so you moved with a sense of urgency, getting out after about 20 minutes.

After getting into some jammies and aggressively drying your hair with your towel, you flop into bed and sort of reminisce about the past day. While you were really happy you got to see your best friend again, you felt a bit irked out by that cop car following you and Felicity. There really was no rational explanation to justify why that car was following you so it was probably either a creepy guy who stole a police car, or worse, a creepy cop. The thought creeped you out and you sat up, yawning and rubbing your eyes tiredly. Your eyes dart over to under your door and you see a little bit of light that was coming from Sam’s room. That gave you an idea. You grabbed a blanket and a pillow and made your way out of your room. You stopped at Sam’s door and knocked. The sound of approaching footsteps were heard and the door opened, Sam standing there with a neutral expression. “What’s up?”

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” You hesitantly asked, honestly feeling a little childish.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown woman, with your own room, and I need my privacy. So if you don't mind—” As he closed the door, you gently stopped it with your hand and gave him a saddened look. “Please Sam, I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

His eyes widened slightly and he sighed, opening the door fully and letting you enter. You found an empty spot on the carpeted floor and threw your pillow down, sitting down beside it. “So… Did something bad happen today?” Sam asked, walking over and sitting on his bed.

“No—well, yeah I guess. Felicity and I were on our way over here and this cop car was just slowly driving after us. I didn’t think much of it at first until Felicity turned a few times and that car was still behind us. We were panicking and I thought ‘oh my god i’m going to die’ before the creep stopped and turned around. It wasn’t fun, like at all.” As you talked, you laid your head down against your pillow and pulled your blanket over you, looking over at your brother.

“Oh damn, I’m sorry. That sounds freaky.” Sam said with a frown.

“Yeah it certainly was. I’m just glad we managed to get out of there without getting hurt or worse… Anyways, I’m gonna change the subject now. How was the lake party?”

Sam grinned at the question. “You won’t believe it when I tell you, cause it’s that unbelievable.”

“Spill.”

“Mikaela Banes actually got into my car and I drove her home, in my car!”

You sat up with a bewildered expression. “Bullshit!”

“I’m serious!”

The two of you talked and laughed for a little while after that and soon drifted off to sleep, you forgetting about the mildly upsetting events that transpired today. A few hours had passed of peaceful slumber until you heard a car revving and Sam running out his door in a hurry. You were still a bit dazed and your tired mind registered it as nothing, so you quickly fell back to sleep.

#sigh I’m struggling a little on ch3 #but it’s getting there guys #transformers #tf bayverse #bayverse #bayformers #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #bayverse optimus prime x reader #maccadam

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ashen-crest · 10 months ago

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[ID: a square image showing the cover of The Stray Spirit against a pale wood background and a blue scrap of paper. The text reads “99 cent ebook sale” and “the sequel arrives March 18th.” End ID]

Obligatory Sale Post!!

If you haven’t hopped into the Lutesong series yet and would like to read about a bard with a forest spirit trapped in his lute for

*~* super cheap *~*

welp, The Stray Spirit eBook is on sale for 99 cents through 3/29! The sequel comes out on 3/18, so now’s a great time to dive in.

Or not! I’m not your mom! Do whatever you want forever!

#the stray spirit #writeblr #bookblr #cozy fantasy

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laxibbeb · 27 days ago

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Hi love!

I hope you have been coping in my absence. This time of silence has weighed heavily on me, and I simply could not resist the temptation to write to you any longer (despite the emails and work waiting for me on my laptop)

I do hope you can forgive me, and to help this process, here are some of my unfiltered thoughts.🙂

Imagine a crackfic that’s ACOTAR from Andras’ POV. It’s one chapter.

(Maybe I’ll make it all internal monologue and still not give him a speaking line) ANYWAY

—

Gill’s slutty fin swoop is everything to me. (And yes I KNOW he’s a fish. The key is to not ask questions)

—

I don’t play an instrument BUT I do sing and almost went to college for that until I changed my mind.

Actually do you count handbells as an instrument? Because I do play those. Also, I’m a huge music theory nerd! (well to be fair, I’m a nerd about a lot of things, but in relevance to this conversation…)

—

Okay, so you have excellent taste in fanfiction. I’ve read some of these already but not all, and I’m making my way through the ones that I haven’t.

I'll give you my favorite fanfictions in time, because again, I'm paranoid my fic recs will give me away

—

As we get closer to December, here’s a few questions.

Do you have any winter/holiday traditions?

Are there any holiday specific foods that you like? (Cookies? Drinks? Other?)

Assuming you’re in a place that has snow, what’s your favorite snow based activity?

—

As always, I look forward to your responses.

With love,

Your Secret Santa

Hello, dear Santa🫀🫀 I hope YOU can forgive ME for my tragic absence due to my awful affliction (i hate covid).

oh my GOD a crackfic about Andras but it's just his inner monologue might actually be a genius move

—

(i would never ask questions, let the one who never wanted to fuck a fish cast the first stone or whatever)

—

i will count anything as an instrument. it makes music, it counts

also, you almost went to college for singing! that's so cool! i always wanted to sing well

—

this is the highest praise and i will cherish that forever 😌 i'm SO busy right now, so currently the fanfiction i want to read just piles up and waits for better times :(

i can't wait for your recs, though (it could possibly give you away even though i'd probably never guess anyway 😌)

—

christmas traditions!! one tradition is so. many. gifts. it could literally be singular tealights packed separately into wrapping paper because we love the unpacking, which i secretly think is hilarious 🤣

another little tradition is - the dogs always get a wrapped gift in the form of some very nice smelling treat

this is poland so another one - we make pierogi from scratch, which is very bothersome (because it takes a long time) but possibly the most fun one

winter tradition-wise i always go ice skating at least once which ties into your question about my favourite winter activity (i'm not very good but last year i learned how to go backwards! i'm very excited to go again this year 🤭) we technically get snow where i live, but not that much of it, we do a little family trip to the mountains sometimes, because everyone likes skiing (that's a bit of stretch, my sister and my father really love skiing lmao, me and my mom are usually just chilling in a bar, pretending that we love skiing)

—

christmas food (the best part, in my opinion)

okay, bear with me here as i translate fish names my favourite christmas dinner food is the common sole (is there a better name? did i just embarass myself?)

another one are apple fritters-esque things, which my grandpa used to make for my mom and now that he's gone my mom continues making them for everyone (which i guess is a tradition as well)

and an obligatory pierogi mention which, as far as i'm concerned, is the best dish to have graced the planet earth (she says as she's eating breakfast pierogi)

i always make cookies! i'm in charge of baking treats and i pick different cookies every year for everyone to try out

—

we're so close to the reveal now because i took eternity to reply AND I'M SO INCREDIBLY EXCITED

see you, dear Santa!! 🫀🤶🫀🤶

#dearsanta

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greetings-and-salutations · 2 years ago

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“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 1

Day 4 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, that’s about it? Nothing really happens in this part. It’s a build up 😂👌

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

“What kind of weirdo school hosts a masquerade ball on Halloween? Scratch that. Better question: what kind of weirdo school hosts a masquerade ball at all?” (Y/n) asked bitterly, as Yasmine tossed another dress on top of the, already much too large, pile in her arms. Yas was excited for the dance. (Y/n) on the other hand…

The blonde simply shrugged her shoulders, her mind clearly focused on the task at hand, rather than her friend’s words.

“West Valley, apparently.” She held up a baby blue dress to (Y/n)’s figure with a scrutinizing gaze before returning it to the rack. “Oh, c’mon, (Y/n/n). Don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” (Y/n) gave her an disbelieving look.

“If by ‘fun’ you mean: hiding in a corner while the karate kids get wasted on questionable punch and start another fist fight, then yeah… fun…” Yasmine rolled her eyes, clearly used to the other girl’s dramatics.

“(Y/n)…” She started, but she just continued.

“No, I suppose you’re right. This one will be different. There’ll be slightly-more-anonymous-than-usual karate kids getting wasted and starting fist fights. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m sold.”

And she wasn’t even exaggerating. (Y/n) would be genuinely surprised if some karate-gang related violence didn’t go down at the school-sanctioned holiday event. It was almost tradition at this point. A tradition (Y/n) wasn’t necessarily too keen to be a part of.

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” Yas pointed out, moving through the aisles of clothing with a purpose that (Y/n) was, as of yet, unaware.

“Sarcastic? Whatever do you mean?” (Y/n) fired back with an over-exaggerated gasp that sent the blonde sighing in complaint. “I’m clearly just thrilled about being invited to something so exclusive. It’s not like the entire school was invited or anything. Oh wait…” (Y/n) trailed off as they finally stopped in front of a set of couches placed purposefully in front of a pair of fitting rooms.

“Remind me again why I took you dress shopping?” Yas asked, pinching her nose with a sigh, as (Y/n) dropped the dress pile haphazardly onto one of the chairs.

“Because you’ve secretly hated me all these years and derive happiness from my misfortunes?” (Y/n) offered with a sarcastic smile that caused Yasmine to make a disapproving face, before something behind (Y/n) seemed to catch her eye.

“Well, that was a little dark. Is (Y/n) in a bad mood cause she’s being forced to go all Cinderella this weekend?” Moon asked as she came up to the two with a handful of dresses of her own in her grasp. Yasmine nodded her head.

“Uh huh.”

“Jokes on you, that’s actually pretty accurate. I’ve gotta leave at 12.” (Y/n) pointed out, suddenly glad for her mothers strict, yet, somehow simultaneously, often varying, curfew. Yas turned to her with such an offended face you’d think she had just casually mentioned murdering a small puppy. Or, in a more Yasmine-style example, apparently: leaving a party before the obligatory five hour mark.

“What the he*l? Why?” She asked, Moon paying attention, but seeming less insulted by the conversation, as she rifled through the pile of tulle and lace. (Y/n) just shrugged.

“Mom’s working a weird shift. She wants me home before she leaves.” She explained, causing Yasmine to groan obnoxiously.

“You’re mom sucks.” She complained, causing (Y/n) to laugh.

“I bet if I told her you said that she wouldn’t let me go to the dance with you.” She pointed out, still kind of looking for an excuse to get out of the whole thing, but also having pretty much come to terms with the fact that she would more-than-likely be forced to attend. Yasmine turned to her with a devilish grin.

“Bold of you to assume we were going together.” She teased, (Y/n)’s jaw dropping at the words.

“What the actual f*ck? Who?” She asked, suddenly much more interested in the whole endeavor, though she certainly wasn’t going to tell her friends that. Yas blushed a little, before answering.

“Demetri asked me.” She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. (Y/n)’s brow furrowed. Sure, she knew who he was. Demetri Alexopolous: that loud-mouthed nerdy kid that (Y/n) shared a math class with. There was nothing wrong with him. (Y/n) suppose he was actually a pretty nice guy under all the… personality. But Yasmine had never seemed the “personality” type…

“And you said yes?” She asked, still not quite believing it. Yas shrugged.

“I’ve got layers, you know.” (Y/n) didn’t know how true that was, but opted not to comment on it, as another thought had suddenly gained her attention.

“Is he your…“ she trailed off gesturing to the inside of her blank wrist, not wanting to say the word ‘soulmate’ out loud as it was considered unlucky to talk about them before they were found. Not that (Y/n) necessarily believed the superstition, but if there ever was a time of year for her to start…

“Well, no.” Yasmine started casually, though by the way she was picking at her manicure, (Y/n) could tell there were certainly some unpacked feelings on the subject. But, before either she or Moon could comment on it, she was continuing. “But whoever said there’s harm in having a little fun in your teen years?” (Y/n) sent her a pointed look.

“My mother.” She joked, though ultimately deciding against interfering in Yasmine’s love life. It just wasn’t worth the hassle, besides she was sure the blonde girl wouldn’t listen to her anyways. “But you do you, babe…” (Y/n) turned to Moon, who was now holding up a red dress to her person and admiring it in the mirror. “So what about you then? Pick me up at 7?” She asked jokingly, though her smile dropped when Moon turned to face her with an apologetic expression.

“About that…” (Y/n)’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in shock, and a tad bit of anger.

“What the actual sh*t!?! So not only do I have to go to this stupid dance that I really don’t want to go to, by the way. But, I also have to go stag like some friendless loser?” This is bullsh*t! What had (Y/n) done to deserve such poor luck? And on one of her favorite days of the year too!

“Sorry…” Moon mumbled, Yas quick to piggy back off her with a “Yeah, sorry, babe,” before Moon continued her feeble attempt to remedy the situation.

“I mean we’ll still hang out with you and everything-“ She started, Yasmine agreeing from her new spot, now having replaced Moon in front of the mirror as she contemplated something in a shiny dark purple.

“Yeah, totally! You won’t be able to get rid of us.” She added, though (Y/n) couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh huh.” (Y/n) grumbled her annoyance, reaching forward into the pile and grabbing the first thing she saw, quickly checking the tag, before standing to leave. “Oh, look. This is my size. I’m gonna go pay.”

“Wait, don’t you want to try it-“ Moon started asking, but (Y/n) had already been in here with Yasmine for over an hour and honestly, she had some much-needed alone time to get to if she was expected to be able to make it through the following evening.

“Nope!” She said, not turning back as the front desk came into view.

“Okay… we’ll see you tomorrow then?” Moon called out across the store, (Y/n) throwing a thumbs up back in answer.

“For sure. Bye!”

“Bye, (Y/n)!”

“Yeah, bye babe!”

+ + +

“Will this be all for you today?”

“Yup.”

“That’ll be $249.99.”

Lovely…

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @nickangel13 @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983 @kaitieskidmore1

#13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular #cobra kai fic #cobra kai x reader #robby cobra kai #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai imagine #robby keene cobra kai #robby keene fluff #robby keene soulmate au #robby cobra kai x reader #robby keene fic #robby keene fanfic #robby keene x reader #robby keene

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jbreenr · 3 years ago

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have.

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request.

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were.

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence.

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse.

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen.

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone.

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through.

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen…

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to.

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing.

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours.

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then.

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him.

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud.

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears.

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention.

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer.

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

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pronounmelon · 2 months ago

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love her but this reminds me of an (honestly petty, you don’t have to take this seriously) complaint I’ve had for awhile

Rusty not knowing. What fucking aesthetic she’s going for with ANYONE

okay so for example; I was tryna get help on GAP designs with my mom once and was going to Blair (not Blaire, obligatory spelling change. Blair Veronica Hromova and Blaire Hopburn are very different characters, establishing this for the inevitable conflation by idiots) and my mother’s first question when I asked for help on her outfit was her aesthetic (or, rather, her “style” as she put it, but she meant the same thing essentially)

I paused for like 20 fucking seconds and said “uh, her inspiration is like….?????” …… “?? Aussie?? Goth beach girl?? Who also dresses like a basic pumpkin spice bitch but with an unusually alt haircut but also she wears a Juicy top once (very much not a 2016 thing, by the way 😭😭)” and then. Eventually, very confused with a wee bit of sweat on her brow, she sends me a picture of her friend over text!! Now I’m gonna do an artistic recreation as to not doxx this woman:

I mean… yeah shows that from a description multiple people can fit it. But at the same time shows that both me AND my mom were really fucking confused upon hearing a description of Blaire

also Poppy being punk is kinda funny to me like she definitely fit it more when she actually HAD Liberty Spikes but whatever flat goku ripoff bullshit she has now is making me think corporate punk more than anything. Also the weird off the shoulder top Rusty gives “HOP” characters when she can’t think of how to dress them… horrendous

also aside from Shez most of the Yonique workers I simply cannot pick up on an aesthetic (which. Sure, okay, they’re just dressed casual), nor any PREFERENCES of (KIND OF A BAD THING WHEN YOURE DESIGNING CHARACTERS TO HAVE BOTH NO AESTHETIC NOR ANY PERSONALITY TO DISCERN FROM THEIR DESIGN) from how they dress. The outfits change from boring outfit to other, not even tangentially related boring outfit so quickly that it’s just. Confusing

at first I actually interpreted Riley’s style from the cover and a few of the first stuff I saw from the comic as being. like. “Hello sir I am her partner” type respectful timid dork boyfriend woman edition. Which. MAKES SENSE she was seemingly very recently disfellowshipped from a cult where the majority of disfellowshipped members kinda sit in the back of meetings hoping to be reinstated for like at least half a year before giving it up. Like, even if she became comfortable with butch fashion at some point (good for her, everyone recovers at their own pace) there’s that sort of awkwardness you can discern from people with religious trauma (coming straight from the horse’s mouth, except my trauma is from Catholicism, not JWs), and since this is character design, it’s cool to see that come across in the way she dresses too. …then I saw her dressing basically the same as Jaden in the first chapter and got really really confused. The inconsistencies are really distracting. They’re fictional characters. Either dress them in the same thing (aside from in like. Special cases like ballroom night I guess??) or if they change outfits all the time keep their preferences CONSISTENT so I KNOW WHO THAT IS

like Riley’s sihlouette in chapter 11.5 VS in ballroom night is completely different and it pisses me off to no end as an avid character designer

want to know how to do good gender nonconforming character designs?? The like million characters from Cookie Run are RIGHT THERE

Woman

Man

Shoutout to Cookie Run one of my favorite references for character design in general

Found some Blaire bits too!

Wuv my wifey so baaaaad aaaghh 💜

#angelicmelon #leasebound #leaseboundweek2024 #fuck you rusty leasebound #Rant

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

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Helping Their S/O Recover From Surgery

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: Reader is in the hospital (obviously), several mentions of food and eating, medication mention, that should be it

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Amajiki

A/N:

Wow, I actually completed a request in a timely fashion 😳

I hope this isn’t too terrible. My dad was disabled, so he had a lot of surgeries (maybe one every year or two). Ergo, I’ve had some experience being in hospitals, if not exactly in the position of the patient ヽ(；▽；)ノ It’s been some time tho, so idk, I might still be missing something.

Anyway, I hope you get well soon, @ure-a-sunflower! Thanks for the request, I’m really flattered that you think of me like this 😊 And never feel shy about sending me a hug! I love hugs :3

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Midoriya:

● Midoriya is the type of guy who'll sit in the waiting room the entire time you're under

● He's a little worried about you, but he trusts that you'll make it through okay

● Trust me, he has plenty of experience being in hospitals (stop breaking ur bones >:()

● He'll be right at your bedside as soon as he's allowed to, whether you're awake or not

● As soon as you're awake and he's able to, he'll give you a nice hug (gently). He doesn't care if you're still in bed, he just wants to know you're okay

● He'll spend a lot of time with you while you recover, sitting in the chair by your bed

● Please please tell this boy it's okay for him to talk. He'll tell you everything he knows about heroes for hours and whether you care about what he's saying or not, it's totally worth it just to see the big smile on his face

● Either way, he'll talk to you almost the whole time. He's actually really fun to have a conversation with! You can talk to him about anything and he'll listen

● Will also play board games with you to pass the time, or any kind of small game he can find that you can both do on your bedside table

● He'll get you anything else you might want as well :)

● Once you're discharged, he'll stick around and help you out

● Again, if you need anything, he's got you

● Need someone to cook for you? If he can't do it himself, he'll ask his mom for help (pls, she cooks the best meals and she loves you so much)

● Will remind you to take your meds

● He'll take naps with you 🥺 He knows you're probably still tired out, so he's making sure you get plenty of rest

● Helps you with any wound care you might need, whether it's cleaning it or dressing it, he'll help out if you let him

● Just very much a sweet boi, 10/10 boyfriend

____________

Bakugou:

● He is very much concerned about you the whole time, he's just really good at hiding it

● As soon as he's allowed to visit you, he's there

● He'll come in quietly, scowling at the floor

● He has a bag with him that's got a container of food in it. He put a lot of effort into making it just for you, just the way you like, but it's likely he'll brush it off and claim it's leftovers

● Katsuki isn't exactly the best hospital buddy, but he'll try

● The thing is, he's not very talkative. He refuses to leave your room for too long, but he's more the type to just sit in the chair by the window (probably looking at his phone)

● You may think he's not paying you any attention, but he's spending time reading up on what condition you're in and how to make sure you recover properly

● He's there if you need him

●Will yell at the nurse / doctor if they're not taking care of you right

● Makes a comment at least once about how much he hates the smell (it's not you, it's the general hospital smell)

● Tries his best to cook for you as often as he can so you don't have to eat the hospital food there (might even give up trying to brush off how much he does for you)

● Gets you anything you need when you ask. As I said, he's not keen on leaving you in your room by yourself, but he won't say anything if you ask for something

● When it's time for you to go home, he'll just get even more clingy

● But not necessarily affectionate, oh no

● He was there when the doctor gave you guidelines for what to do during your recovery period, and he did his research

● You're not getting out of following it to the letter

● If you're supposed to stay in bed and rest, he'll make sure you're not getting up unless you absolutely have to. Also he'll do any kind of heavy lifting for you, just to be safe (and it’s totally not a bonus chance to lowkey show off how strong he is)

● If you need to incorporate more activity into your day, he'll be at your side. It's like a little date, taking a nice slow walk in the park

● He's also keeping tabs on how much water you're drinking. He always encourages you to drink plenty of water, but now he's even more on top of his game to remind you

● He'll also remind you to take your meds (aggressively but with love) :)

● And he'll drive you to your follow up visits with your doctor

● Bakugou will encourage you the best way he knows. He may come off harsh at times, but he just wants your healing process to go as smoothly as possible. He's not good with feelings and stuff, but this is how he shows you he cares

____________

Todoroki:

● Another sweet boi

● He knows what it's like to visit people in the hospital (ahem, his mom), so it wouldn't be too weird for him (not that it’s all that weird for any of them)

● He'd come and see you every day, and he'll bring you a little something each time, whether it's a snack, some flowers, a game or coloring book he thought you'd like, or even a little stuffed bear (or whatever your favorite animal is)

● His visits can be weirdly short though? Like, he doesn't know what to say, so he kind of just . . . leaves? Like wait come back

● He likes it when he can get you talking. He's not much of a talker himself, so it's easier if you can lead conversations

● But if you want him to, he will just keep you company in silence

● Master at staring off into space for long periods of time

● But every time he looks over at you, he gets this soft smile on his face and he's so cute

● He's trying his best

● He'll also help remind you of things when you're back home

● He's not the best at cooking, so he'll order you anything you want and eat it with you

● I'll state the obligatory "he provides that hot/cold treatment for any pain you might have" because he does and it works

● He'll go out with you to walk around, and just generally get you back into living your life

● Yeah, he's just really glad to see that you're healthy and he’s happy to help you out so your recovery is quick and easy

____________

Amajiki:

● Not gonna lie, he was a little nervous while you were having the surgery

● Not too bad, just some pacing around the waiting room, but he feels so much better once everything's over with

● Big on sitting next to your hospital bed and just holding your hand the whole time he's visiting

● Hates checking in every day (because ew, people, and also ew, walking through strange halls full of people and equipment and the lighting is funky and everything smells like hand sanitizer and—)

● But he does it for you, because you're the most important thing to him 🥺

● Oh, and he also gets really really quiet whenever the nurse comes in to check up on you and just kind of pretends like he doesn't exist for a moment while they do their thing

● He'll do something where he gets himself a boxed lunch or takeout and eat with you in your room at meal times

● Honestly though, he'll be happy when you're finally able to go back home

● He's a very sweet and doting boyfriend, and he'll make sure you're getting everything you need

● He'll do his best to help you readjust after everything, and he'll even stay by your side when you go for follow up appointments :]

● (His anxiety has that loophole where if you're ever anxious about doing something, he's able to take charge and help you out)

● Pls, I love him

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @xoxopam4

#midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #request fulfilled!#sugar hcs #cw hospital #cw surgery

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wispforever · 3 years ago

Note

if youre still doing the character thing, how about spirit or marie?

I sure am. How about Spirit And Marie? Both wonderful characters. I’ll do Marie first, then Spirit. Thanks for the excuse to infodump, really. You people are too kind.

Marie Mjolnir

My first impression of Marie was the same impression I get of most female characters in anime. It’s either “why do their clothes have to look like that” or “oh god here comes the obligatory sexist heteronormative romance”. For Marie, it was more of the second. They mention in the same episode she’s introduced that Stein is her “first love”, which told me that if she had a large place in the plot, her assigned male counterpart around which to orbit would be him. Though I’ve never read the Soul Eater manga, I believe they do end up getting together there (I could be wrong). Whatever the case, I was relieved that Marie’s and Stein’s relationship (though heavily implied to be romantic, at least on Marie’s side) was left open to interpretation in the anime. I’m just very sick of cool badass female characters like Marie being reduced to the man they pine after. So, I guess my first impression of Marie and my impression of her now are largely the same. While I appreciate the moments we get to see her strengths and ability to operate on her own, I do think that her character really suffers because of the whole sexist “oh gosh all I want is to find a husband and retire” “oh my I have to take care of Stein” like okay, I had enough at the cat girl smothering Soul with her humungo-tits. I had enough at sexualizing underage girls and women in general. I had enough at making sexual harassment a punchline. That being said, when we push all of the shitty writing to the side, I admire Marie for her strength and how she interacts with the children, Crona in particular. Which leads me to my favorite moment(s).

The relationship Crona and Marie have interests me the most, since I’m really drawn to the parallels between Marie and Medusa. As parental figures (and as characters), they’re about as different as you can get. As Crona’s mother, Medusa is obviously abusive. Along with being negligent, she abuses Crona mentally, emotionally, and physically. In general, Medusa is a person who doesn’t appear to value interpersonal relationships, putting it nicely. She instead is more focused on her own interests, often to the detriment of those around her. Crona is Medusa’s only immediate family (besides Arachne who she is estranged from), and so they suffer the most from her refusal to show even a shred of human decency or warmth. They suffer especially because they are her child, meaning they’re stuck with her essentially, and repetivie abuse between family members like a mother and child often becomes complex because of the necessity of having a parental figure in your life to support you as you grow up. Medusa teaches Crona that their boundaries don’t matter and that they are only good as long as they are useful and do as they’re told. This is what makes Marie’s influence on Crona so cool to watch. Marie is caring by nature, loving and nurturing by nature. Her very wavelegnth is healing. She is kind and does what’s right reflexively. Marie is the exact embodiment of what Crona always needed but what, even upon being rescued by the academy, still felt so foreign to them: unconditional love. Crona struggles to understand why the other kids helped them, why Maka felt the inclination to stop their battle and save Crona instead by trying to understand them, why the kids are still so kind to them even after everything. They do not understand that love is not a bargaining chip. It isn’t leverage in an argument. It’s not a tool for emotional manipulation. Love is caring for the people close to you, just because. Love for the sake of love. The other kids and teachers at the academy are the ones who are able to pull Crona out of all Medusa’s lies, and Marie is a Huge part of that. Even though I have greivances with this being the largest part of her character and what that implies for female characters in general, it doesn’t stop being so beautiful to me that she could help Crona heal in this way. Marie = best mom for the win

Most of the story ideas I have for Marie involve her relationship with Crona or Stein. Say, this covers my unpopular opinion too. I don’t like Stein and Marie as a couple, but I really enjoy writing them as friends, because even though I don’t really jive with them being together romantically, I think their dynamic is an interesting one to explore because they Are so different.

Getting into that a little bit more, I’d like to start by saying I don’t care if other people like Stein and Marie being a couple. That’s great doods, keep doing you. The fanart’s adorable, the meta’s fantastic. Whoever you are, SteinMarie shippers, ffs keep kicking ASS. This is just my preference and opinion. Zero shade in this house. That said, because of my frustrations about Marie’s character I discussed in the first paragraph, I don’t like the idea of her and Stein being together romantically. It’s really a classic sexist trope: the troubled man and his sweet nurse. I’m also just fed up in general with the hetero-nonsense, so there. However, they are both wonderful characters that I enjoy very much seperately. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve only seen the anime, so I can’t speak for the manga as far as their relationship or Marie’s character in general.

Oh shit I accidentally already talked about this one lmao [see the second paragraph]

One headcanon I like to think about when I’m writing Marie is that she likes women (in addition to men or not) and she struggles with comphet. Just something interesting I like to think about. It’s really fun for me to take characters who have been written as pining or had 10 million failed relationships and be like “say what if they can’t find a husband cuz really what they really need is a wife”. I’ll talk about that more with Spirit inevitably.

Spirit Albarn

My first impression of Spirit, obviously him being a cheater, really came with a lot of distaste. I come from a family that was torn apart by infidelity, among other things, so it really rubs me the wrong way. However, his saving grace for me was that he genuinely loves his daughter. It appears that, whether it’s played for laughs or not, he just can’t find fulfillment in his romantic relationships. The reason is left up to the veiwers. Spirit, ultimately, is not just a shitty person, which is how most cheaters are protrayed in media. “Well, they cheated because they don’t care if they hurt people”, “they cheated because they are shit and that’s it”. That’s a fine explanation if you plan to do nothing with whatever character you’re describing, but Spirit is relatively recurring and is shown to be neither mean-spirited or emotionally unintelligent. It bothers me that his cheating and routine sexist behaviour isn’t taken seriously enough to be a subject that Soul Eater tackles and deals with. But that’s fine. I’ll just do it myself. At any rate, I still feel that same way about Spirit’s character, but I find it intriguing that he seems to genuinely want to become a better father and is actually a pretty good dad when it comes to his interactions with Maka. If Soul Eater had been brave enough to develop him more, maybe delve into the reasoning behind his impulsive romantic affairs, I think Spirit as a character could have been done more justice. It seems to me that he could be suffering from some of that wonderful compulsory heterosexuality that I mentioned before, then becoming confused when the woman he claims to love leaves him feeling empty. Rattling my gay little cage

When I think of my favorite moments with Spirit, I think of his moments with Maka, but I’m gonna hold off on that until I get to favorite relationship(s). In reference to what I talked about in the first paragraph, one moment I find really interesting when I’m thinking about my interpretation of Spirit’s character is the scene where he and Maka are on the roof talking. Maka asks Spirit why he cheated on her mother if he did, in fact, love her. He doesn’t appear to know the answer, and he doesn’t really understand how to effectively communicate that, though he was shitty husband, what he really wants now is to try and be a better dad. We hear his inner monologue, and he says something like “I love you [Maka] and your mama. That’s the truth. That’s the truth. That’s the truth.” Every time he says “its the truth” it sounds more like he’s forcing it. This is actually something that is SO strange to me. Even if I didn’t project a queer narrative on to the characters I love, I would look at this and be like “huh that is a Weird thing to say in that specific way”. Why does he say it like that? Why does he have to say it more than once? He’s only talking to HIMSELF. It isn’t like he’s trying to convince Maka. Why does he have to convince himself?? Could it possibly be because he’s reached a conclusion about his romantic/sexual orientation that he’s been trying to swallow his Entire Life??? makes ya wonder, doesn’t it, queers?

Just like I said when I talked about Stein, most of the stories I have in mind with Spirit center around that sweet gayness. But also, I like to think of ways Spirit could come to terms with his sexuality, how it might have affected him when he was young, his relationship with all these women, with his wife. I love to think about him being a dad at 18 and trying his best, but how much responsibility that must have been. Lots of great ideas when it comes to Spirit.

Um? unpopular opinion would be all the standard like I said with Stein lmao. “Oh no!” scream the heteros, “that they/them on tumblr is making Soul Eater queer we canst not allow that in our church!!!111!” But besides that, maybe even the fact that I think he’s redeemable?? Idk most everyone I’ve met thinks Spirit is funny at least and just calls him a dumbass and a slut (affectionate). Doesn’t mean anybody thinks cheating on your wife 56 times is okay so. I like this fandom, it’s chill here. My favorite is when I see my art tagged like “aw the stupid man and his crazy bf” like YOU ARE RIGHT

My favorite relationship when it comes to Spirit (besides Stein cuz if I start talking about them again I’ll never finish this ask) is the one he has with Maka. If you can call it a relationship lol. I guess I just find Spirit’s approach to Maka as a parent really refreshing. Not that the parents in other shows don’t love their kids or whatever, it’s just that the loving parent always seems to be paired with some other trope that makes their character hard to approach. especially in anime. Like the perfect mother who dies in the first episode, and we spend the rest of the show mourning her. Or the father whose love is somehow everlasting even though he’s never home. It’s really the fact that Spirit is even THERE that I love. He knows what Maka is up to. He talks about her. He’s invested in her life, and he loves her. All he wants is to spend time with her, and though he’s sad when she turns him down, he doesn’t push her. god dammit I just like a dad who actually loves his kids without all the usual strings attached like. oh my kids are a huge pain in my ass, but I love them in spite of it. oh i’m a man so can’t relate to my children in a meaningful way but i try. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I want all the dads to get so happy when their daughters wanna hang with them that they throw up like Spirit. Give me the guy who loves his daughter so naturally, whose daughter is such a huge part of his life, that it doesn’t even occur to him stop trying even if she literally wants to murder him. That’s Spirit. jfc

To end with a cute little headcanon, I really love to think that when Spirit gets older and starts losing the color in his hair, instead of getting white or grey, his hair turns a pale pink color cuz he’s such an aggressive redhead. Wouldn’t that just be adorable? late 30′s, early 40′s, Spirit starts getting little pink streaks in his hair and then bam. Little pink old man Spirit XD

There ya have it. Thanks for the ask, and feel free to send more.

#Soul Eater #Ask #Ask game #anon #Marie Mjolnir #Spirit Albarn #this is wisp

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anarcoqueer1994 · 4 years ago

Text

No More Dates

It was the summer of 1933, and Steve had just turned 15 years old. He is sitting in his kitchen with his ma, as she cooks. He's doodling on a scrap of paper when behind him he hears the door open; Bucky. Sarah never minded the brunette busting in without knocking. She sees him like another one of her kids and loves that her son has such a good friend.

Steve hears Bucky walk up behind him, feeling Bucky's strong arm wrap around his shoulder. Steve has to focus on not blushing. Ever since his friend has started down at the docks, his already handsome body has taken on harder lines and muscles. It was not helping Steve’s massive crush on him one bit.

He is broken out of his thoughts when the other boy starts to speak. "Good evening, Mrs. Rogers." He smiles at the blond woman at the stove. She smiles back and waves slightly.

He turns his attention to Steve. "Hey, Stevie. What'cha drawing?" Bucky looks down at the paper which Steve tries to hide. He isn't quick enough. Bucky sees. "This is good." Buck beams at the hastily sketched lips on the page. Luckily for Steve, he doesn't realize those are his lips.

"Uh, thanks Buck." Steve flashes a little smile back before turning the paper over, giving his full attention to the older boy.

"So listen Stevie, want to go out with me tonight?" Steve's hands suddenly get sweaty. What does Bucky mean, out tonight? With him, like a date. They can't do this, two guys. Bucky sees Steve’s panic stricken face. He asks "What's wrong? Please tell me you don’t have a shift at Mr. Green's do you?" Mr. Green owned a grocery store where Steve would bag at, one of the only places that would hire him. Bucky continues. "Please say you don't, I got us two pretty dames looking for a good time."

Oh. Steve thinks. Of course Bucky wasn’t talking about going out with him. Why would he? He got them a double date. He doesn't particularly want to go. Over the last few months, Bucky has gotten them all these double dates. But they all end up the same. Whatever poor girl who is his date, politely conducts herself but she always is more enthralled with Bucky. Oftentimes the girl only says yes to a date with him so her friend could get a date with the other man, since Bucky has made it clear that he won't go out with anyone if Steve can’t come.

But Steve would watch as the girls would whisper between themselves, teenage girls tending to not be discrete. He would see them giggle and bat their eyes at his friend, when the most he would get is an obligatory smile. He can't blame them though, he wasn’t much to look at, not like Bucky. Steve swore Bucky was the picture perfect man. To be honest, he catches himself staring at his friend too, jealousy often washing over him when he would see Bucky's hand wrapped around a girl's waist, pulling her close. He wishes Bucky could hold him like that; wanted to hold him like that back.

"No, I worked this morning. But Buck...you didn't need to get me a date. You go on and have fun. Plus I promised Ma I would help clean the oven tonight." He lies lamely.

Bucky frowns but nods his head. "Alright, Stevie…" He sounds disappointed.

Sarah, hearing the lie, shakes her head, careful not to embarrass her son while still not letting him off the hook. "It's alright, Steve. I got the oven. Just go have fun, tonight." Sarah doesn’t want her boy sitting at home. She knows that her son is a little...funny. And she knows she will always love her son no matter who he loves. But their church and society could be mean. She didn’t want her Steve facing that. She hopes that with these dates he can find a nice girl.

Bucky's face lights up. "Perfect! Thanks Mrs. Rogers!" He smiles at Steve and heads to the door. 'Be ready in an hour, okay?"

"Sure Buck…" Steve says unenthusiastically as the older boy leaves. He sighs before putting his head down in his arm on the table.

"Steve…" Sarah says softly. "It'll be fun. Maybe the girl will be nice."

Steve picks his head up slightly to look at his mom. "Ma, it always is the same. The poor girl who gets stuck with me has no interest. And why should she? Look at me."

She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Baby, you're very handsome and any one would be lucky to be "stuck with you."

"You have to say that, you are my mom. I look like those yappy dogs with the big head and tiny body. I am nobody's type." He mopes.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you stop that right now. You are going on this date tonight and you are going to have fun." She says sternly.

Steve knows there is not a use in arguing with her so he just nods and resides himself to his fate.

Sarah had pulled out Steve's dad's

old grey suit, insisting on dressing the boy well for his date. He felt ridiculous, everything slightly too big. He should be used to that, all of his clothes fit like that. He wore the jacket unbuttoned hoping it would be less obvious about how too big it was. His mother let him use some of the little colgne she had, stored away from her late husband. She said he was perfect. He knew otherwise.

He meets Bucky at the bottom of the steps of his tenement. Bucky, of course, looks flawless, hair slicked back, effortless handsome, with button down shirt rolled to his elbows. Steve thinks he is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. And then Bucky smiles. A smile Steve cherishes as it is just for him.

"Hey Stevie" he throws his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a half hug. "You look great!"

Steve blushes. "You're lying but thanks, so do you, pal."

Bucky wants to argue. He wants to tell him he's wrong because Steve always looked great, always looked perfect to him but knows Steve won't back down. So, he just smiles sadly at his best friend. "What are we going to do with you, man?" He asks as they start walking.

Once they get their dates, they head to a dance hall. Bucky's date is a pretty blond girl with bright blue eyes, Margaret, and Steve's is a redhead with green eyes named Dora. Steve is polite and is surprisingly light on his feet. Dora looks like she is having a good enough time as Steve tries his best to small talk with her and enjoy this date.

But it's hard because it is obvious that they both want someone else. As they danced, Steve would watch out of the corner of his eye as Bucky would twirl and dip his date, then pull her oh so close. There felt like there was something pushing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He hated himself for hating that Bucky was holding someone else.

He tried his best to put on a happy face for his date, who had been nothing but sweet. But he noticed that she too was making eyes at someone else, a guy across the room right that she seemed to know, as he looked back equally as sweetly. Steve knew how it felt to want someone else, but unlike him, she had a chance.

He pulls her over to the table mid dance. "What is it?" She says softly.

"You're a very nice girl, Dora. You have been incredibly kind and I have had a good time. But I'm not the one you want to be here with, am I?" Steve asks nicely, careful not to sound accusatory.

She looks down before saying "Am I that obvious?

He laughs, showing her he is not mad. "Yea. Also... it looks like he wants to be with you as much as you want to be with him. So go and dance with him, have fun." Steve replies lightly.

She gives him a pretty smile before surprising him with a hug, which he returns. She whispers "Thank you Steve." She holds him there a little longer before whispering one more thing. "I know I'm not the only one of us sweet on someone else and for the record, I think he is sweet on you too." What Steve didn’t realize was that between his glances at Bucky, Bucky glanced back, an evening of missed gazes.

She pulls away and waves, without another word making her way to the other man. Steve is left dumbfounded, and terrified, and excited all at once.

Most importantly he knows he has to get out of there, a feeling a dread that he gave himself away as a fairy. He knows she won't tell anyone other than maybe her friend...but what if others do find out. Suddenly it is hard to breathe, as he rushes out the door.

He ends up on the fire escape outside Bucky's room. The lights are out in the Barnes' residence,indicating that the family was asleep. He comes here a lot when he wants to escape. He guesses he is not that great at escaping since he always ends up at the same place. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, eyes shut.

What did she mean he was sweet on me too? How can she know that? How could, Bucky, the boy who has been chasing skirt like it was going out of style the last few months, be into him? They were just best friends, and he was just a hopeless fool who wanted to much. What if Bucky turned on him when he found out that Steve liked other fellas...liked him.

The last thought made him shiver, made him sick to his stomach, losing the one man that means more than him than the entire universe. A tear rolls down his face, before closing his eyes again. He is so focused on his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the window open behind him and someone step out. It isn't until he feels an arm wrap around his shoulder and pull him close that he realizes he isn't alone.

Bucky's voice is gentle as he whispers "Why'd you leave, Stevie?"

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels Bucky's strong arm holding him there. He forces himself to talk "I...i just wasn't having a good time, I just wanted to leave…thats all."

Bucky's voice gains a level of worry as he replies "You wouldn’t be sitting here if that was all. Please tell me what's wrong...I would of left with you, Steve. When I noticed you were gone, I left immediately and searched everywhere for you. Your ma said you didn’t come home, so I knew you would be here. Why didn’t you get me?"

Hearing the worry and sadness coat Bucky's voice makes Steve feel terrible, unable to look up at him as he answers "Because, Buck, I left because of you…" another silent tear falls.

"What..." Bucky sound confused, voice broken as he instinctively pulls away from Steve, scared whatever he did, he is making worse. "What did I do?"

Steve lets put an unamused laugh, silent tears falling more freely now as he looks at Bucky, who's face is distorted with guilt and confusion. Steve just wants to reach up and smooth out his features back to the beautiful care free ones that typically live on his face. "You...didn't do anything, I did. I'm whats wrong here, Buck."

Bucky is torn between wanting to pull Steve into a hug and never let go and not wanting to scare away his friend by touching him, so he fidgets with his hands in his lap. "Steve that's impossible...you couldn't have done anything wrong." He sounds sincere, like he thinks Steve is perfect.

"You---" a strangle sob manages to escape. "You think to highly of me. I don't deserve it. Buck, remember when we were in school, and the other boys would call me a fairy because we spent so much time together….and I look like this?" Steve feels bad, Bucky would always stand up for him, the other boys always backing down. They never backed down when Steve would stand up for himself, often getting his ass kicked.

"Yea, those guys are idiots, still are. I work with some of them down at the dock." Bucky says plainly.

"No...they aren't, because they were right." Steve sound sad.

"What?" Bucky says again, confused more than ever.

"I'm a fairy...a pansy….I like fellas like you are supposed to like dames, Buck. And I'm so sorry….so so sorry. I'm so afraid of anyone finding out. It'll break ma's heart….everyone at church will hate me...God hates me….everyone will hate me. I'm disgusting…" Steve is shaking now, sobs freely escaping between words. He hadn't meant to say all this but it slipped out.

Bucky, unable to not do anything, throws his arms around Steve, pulling his head to his chest, gently petting his hair. "Shhh...shhh….its okay Stevie, s'okay." He repeats for awhile before whispering "If you're disgusting, I'm disgusting." Steve gets really still in his arms, before tilting his head up to look at Bucky. "What?"

"I said, I'm "disgusting" too. I...uh like ladies, I do. I just like fellas too...especially...one fella in particular." He answers shyly.

Steve’s heart feels like it is on a roller coaster. In the same breath that he found out Bucky was also a queer...he finds out Bucky has eyes for a guy already. Jealousy wells up inside of him, this somehow hurting more than a dame. Being a glutton for punishment, Steve asks "Who?"

Bucky laughs, arms still around his oblivious friend. "You, punk."

Steve’s heart is literally going to beat right out his chest qnd fly away. In disbelief he asks "Then why did you drag me on all those dates?"

Bucky takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "I thought it was easier this way...hide how I was feeling and get to spend time with you, thought it was a win-win."

Steve clears his throat, pulling away so he can look Bucky in the eyes, Bucky’s arms still resting on his shoulders. "Not...not for me. I...hated seeing you holding other people...that weren't me. Do you know how many times I wished it was me in your arms, slow dancing. Because…I really love you. And I know people say that you can't know love at 15….but I do….love is whatever I feel when I'm with you and---"

Before he can finish, Bucky pulls him in for a soft, chaste kiss. Steve practically melts. This is is his first kiss, and its clumsy and sweet and everything he ever wanted.

When they break away, both boys smile like love sick puppies. Bucky smiles "I love you too, Stevie."

Steve smiles back "No more dates?"

"No more dates." Bucky agrees.

#pre serum steve #pre serum stucky #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x bucky #fanfic #fanfiction #steve x bucky fanfic

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one-piece-dumpster-fire · 4 years ago

Note

Hi can i have a hcs of being the older sister of vivi killer drake and katakuri who is nice and compasionate please-Sarah

I'm sorry this took... embarrassingly long to complete. And I'm not gonna lie, it was rather difficult for me to come up with good headcanons for this request. I'm really not proud of this one, but... hopefully you'll like it at least a bit, dear ^^'

Having a kind older sister headcanon

Nefeltari Vivi

Vivi absolutely adores and looks up to you!

secretly, she wants to grow up to be just as much of an amazing and kind person as you are

however she can also be a bit of a brat and a little rebel from time to time; especially in her younger years she would often switch between wanting to be with you and wanting to be left alone in a matter of seconds

sometimes, when she's in an especially mischievious mood, she even goes as far as to hide from you on the palace grounds all day long

seeing how your mother died when you and your little sister were still pretty young, your dad Cobra was initially the one who tried to take on both parental roles and raise you to the best of his abilities; but since he's also the King of Alabasta and has a lot of responsibilities to take care of, it didn't quite work out in the long run. Thus you jumped in for him, taking on both a sisterly as well as a motherly role for Vivi as she was growing up

still, Cobra is extremely protective of his two girls and therefore you're rarely allowed to leave his sight or the palace. But that ain't stopping you from occasionally sneaking out in secret, and once Vivi is old enough to accompany you, you bring her along. Those little 'trips' later on fueled her desire to sneak out on her own and make friends with the other children in Alabasta

every evening, when it's time for bed, she sits down with you and proudly tells you about the things she did that day while you brush through her hair

although she's eager to share most of her hobbies and adventures with you, the one thing that Vivi is extremely cautious about is letting you meet her friends. Grown people aren't allowed in their club, so when she finally decides to introduce you to Koza and the rest, you have to promise not to tell anyone

you're the one person Vivi can confide in 100% and she knows that her secrets are always safe with you- even from Papa Cobra

so it's only natural that you were also the first person she told about her plans to infiltrate Baroque Works

and while Vivi is away on her secret mission, you make sure to help your little sis from the inside by delivering informations about the current situation in Alabasta. All while keeping up the facade of the good older princess who believes that Sir Crocodile is a hero, of course

when she finally comes back home with Luffy and the Strawhats, you do everything in your power to assist them in their plan to get the country back from the Warlord. With an all-out civil war right around the corner Vivi especially needs you as emotional support and counts on your wisdom to help with her decisions. You're her big sister after all, and if there's anyone she needs to have by her side while she's facing all of the coming chaos, it's you.

Killer

you know those rebellious teenagers that are always like "Moooom, don't tell me what to do!!!!"? That's Killer, but in little brother form

he definitely doesn't like being coddled or looked after. Yes, he gets into fights and danger regularly, but it's normal. He doesn't need you to chew him out for it every time

despite that, he really really does love you though. Hence why he's occasionaly pushing you away- as pirate he's living a dangerous life, and he doesn't want his nice and sweet big sister to get caught up in it

his way of showing apprecation for you has always been a bit unusual, even back when he was young. One time, when you were still living together, Killer tried to surprise you by cooking your favorite food for your birthday; but he ended up setting your house on fire instead, forcing you to move again

when you were still children you would occasionally babysit your little brother as well as his best bud Kid, and things often got out of control when you three were together

especially the little redhead seemed to be in a rather provocative mood whenever you were around. Sometimes Kid would declare that you'll be his woman one day, which always ticked off Killer and caused him to start fights with his friend

even to this day, Killer still tries to keep you away from Kid. He adores his friend and captain, but also really doesn't want him to try and get flirty with you... again. That's just all kinds of wrong

it's not just Kid though, no one else in the crew is allowed to comment on your looks/attricteveness/whatever either, or they'll have to deal with a pretty mad Killer

nowadays he's a lot more relaxed when it comes to you and your presence around the crew though. From time to time he still berates or tells you that you are too friendly for your own good, but deep down he's appreciative of your caring nature and how you always treated him with kindness

one thing that never really changed is Killer's desire to cook by your side and show off all the things he learned within the past few years

you're the only person he feels the need to impress and who's criticism actually matters to him even if he accepts it with a scoff

X Drake

although he's the younger sibling, Drake is actually the protective one. Because of your kind nature he's always afraid that someone might try to use you

he's pretty clingy as a kid, and it honestly doesn't change much as he's getting older

you were the one that took care of him after your father died, so naturally he's always been looking at you for guidance and comfort from a young age on

as a result you're the only person that can claim to know Drake 100%. He can't keep secrets from you either, sometimes it's even as if you know him better than he does

although he knows he can always come to you with his problems and secrets, Drake is pretty hesitant to do so. Scared that you might get dragged into his dangerous affairs, he heavy-hearted decides that it's for the best to keep you in the dark about his life as double-agent

although he feels a bit guilty to keep you in the dark about his affiliations, it does have some perks as well. Thanks to his job he was able to secure you a nice house in a calm (and most importantly, protected) living area that's close to his marine base

you could say it's his way of 'repaying' you for taking care of him for so long. Drake loves you and can't help but feel as if he's in your debt

as long as his job allows it he makes sure to visits you at least once or twice a month to make sure that you're doing good

during those visits he often thinks back to what your life used to be like when you were kids, and the mood quickly turns sober as he remembers his abusive father. That's usually when it's time for you to step in and change the topic

just ask Drake about his crushes or if there is a woman he's got his eyes on and he'll turn all sorts of red again lol

huh, maybe there is someone he's interested in. But he can't tell you because you'd probably just offer to help him win her over, which is bound to end in disaster...

instead of talking about his preferences when it comes to women he'd rather tell you about the new limited edition Germa action figure he managed to get his hands on! And boom- just like that, your little bro is in a better mood again

can you imagine how excited Drake would be to tell you about his encounter with Stealth Black tho...? You'd probably have to calm him down during the call so he won't hyperventilate lmao

Charlotte Katakuri

much like Killer, Katakuri also doesn't like being coddled

back when you were young and still sailing around with the family, it was usually your and Perospero's unofficial job to look after the younger siblings while Big Mom was doing... y'know, pirate stuff

most of the kids were doing fine under your watch, but Katakuri always had a strong tendency to get in trouble. You would often scold him for starting fights with others and tell him that he shouldn't pay any mind to whatever insults they throw at him; unfortunately though he hardly ever listened

and after the incident with Brûlée, he completely isolated himself from everyone- including you. He also felt a tinge of guilt for not listening to your advice, since it might have kept his sister from getting hurt

it takes years, almost decades until Katakuri feels ready to open up again- and if it wasn't for how compassionate you were and that you never judged or pressured him, it might have taken even longer

eventually he tries to mend your relationship by inviting you to one of his meriendas, where you finally get the chance to talk about everything

from there on out you two slowly get reacquainted with one another and become friends again

and this time, he actually listens to your advice and takes it to heart

Katakuri still keeps up the appearance of the strong and cold older brother around the other siblings, but when he's with you he's more relaxed and sometimes even okay with talking about his pent-up frustration

whenever he returns from a mission he checks in with Mama first (that's obligatory) and then gets some donuts, pays you a visit to see how you've been holding up during the days he was gone, and explains what he's been up to

he's always looking out for you and whenever Mama suggests that it's time for you to marry some crazy psycho for the sake of an alliance, Katakuri would do everything in his powers to help you convince her that it was a bad idea

frankly Katakuri respects you more than his own mother and is very glad to have someone who doesn't put him on a pedestral or holds him to some insanely high standards. It makes him feel a bit more... human.

#one piece #nefeltari vivi #one piece killer #x drake #charlotte katakuri #one piece x reader #one piece headcanon #one piece imagine #op headcanon

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serenedash · 3 years ago

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🏳️‍🌈 go feral with your kh babes

THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME ANON you said go feral and I fucking did. I have. many headcanons and many are important to me and 99% of this is khux,

Hyperfix ask meme: do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you?

Xemnas is a mlm trans man and literally has so much mental illness. like nomura made the perfect ND character and I love him so much. He has so so much dissociation all the time.

Vanitas is a nonbinary icon you look at him and tell me he knows what a gender is. Also mental illness hours with him too that’s a given-

Ira is genderfluid (he/they/she) and gay!!!! Also obligatory him and Invi are twins moment- they are both Korean. He also has killer makeup and is very pretty. I hc that he has a lot of anxiety and has trouble making eye contact with people (that’s why I draw him with hair covering his face bc he doesn’t like people looking at him-) He doesn’t talk a lot, he only talks when he thinks it’s necessary! He internalizes a lot of things and isn’t vocal about his own feelings; he will always put others before himself.

Invi’s sexuality is lesbian and it’s also her gender. Unlike Ira, she’s very loud and has no problem being blunt. She can and will fight you and I love that for her :) Honestly she’s a very black/white person.

Aced is literally a bear like idk what you want. I hc him as black! He HAS to think out loud and say everything that’s on his mind. He has!!! Very big emotions too!!! In back cover he cries like twice and I’m like oh my god man please catch your breath. After the war I think he would have a lot of self esteem issues with how he acted and would rather distance himself from the others bc in his eyes he’s caused enough trouble already and can’t see the others forgiving him.

Gula is a trans man and bi and we love that for him. I hc him as white and Mexican! I think it’s a somewhat common hc that he’s a street kid and I think he already had a lot of trust issues going into his apprenticeship and obviously MoM made them. so so much worse. He tries to seem really aloof and mysterious and his resting bitch face helps but also he’s very anxious all the time and needs approval from everyone constantly he’s really bad at actually hiding anything. Like the way he runs to Invi about everything? The way he willingly tells Player and Skuld EVERYTHING despite the fact HE REALLY SHOULDN’T??? He’s very smart but like. His need for approval from others is his downfall. After the war I think he literally won’t trust anyone except for Ava like if his duty wasn’t keeping him there I’m sure he would ditch everyone.

Ava is agender!!! They/she :) no gender here!!!! I actually have a few headcanons for how they look bc I really like playing around with their illusion powers and them changing their appearance. I think the athlete Laurie Hernandez and Ava’s voice actress (Isabela Merced) are really good facecanons for them! I think Ava also has trust issues but they’re a lot more lowkey than Gula’s and are really only a result of the events of khux. I think they have a really strong sense of justice and self preservation where the other foretellers are more likely to think and feel as MoM tells them to. I also hc that Ava is lowkey like. such a girlboss and will do absolutely anything to get what they want. I think they have mixed feelings on the others and MoM but ultimately feels like they HAVE to oblige to whatever MoM has planned for them and their siblings.

Luxu is a nonbinary trans man (he/they) and pan! You look at post kh3 Luxu and tell me that man cares about gender. I hc him as being black and indian! khux Luxu I hc as having no filter and he will just talk and talk and TALK for so long and none of it will honestly make sense. This is a headcanon I stole from others but Luxu is chronically late to everything and the foretellers run on Luxu Standard Time.

Luxu part 2 I have a lot to say: anyway he’s a very genuine and trusting person and his role was really difficult at first bc he had to learn how to hold all his thoughts inside and be more serious. Over time I think he would go through many cycles of terrible emotions over himself, the others, and MoM. I think he’s extremely loyal to MoM to a fault and no matter what he does or what he thinks nothing can shake that loyalty even if he mourns the person he once was. He’s had to throw away his whole identity and all his own dreams/goals (if he ever had any) so he could help mom. He’s struggled a lot with his identity and personhood over the years and by the time of kh3 I think he would not even view himself as a person but more of a tool for MoM. I am a big MoM hater so I like to think deep down he would resent MoM for making him carry out a role for so long by himself but at the end of the day there’s nothing he can do about it and he’s going to see this through to the end.

Skuld is a trans girl!!!! And she is SO TALL!!! I know a lot of very tall gorgeous trans girls so I just look at Skuld and I Know. I think she’s a very social person but has a lot of self esteem issues that makes it hard for her to make friends. I like seeing her when she meets Player vs her at the end of khux bc I feel like she’s grown a lot and I love seeing her with friends!!!!

Ephemera is genderfluid, any pronouns, we love to see it. I like to actually think Eph is. not that great of a person (at first). Like very driven but is only looking for their own goals yknow but gets closer to people thru Player, Skuld and the other dandelions. I think a lot about post khux Eph struggling with some self image issues bc of what happened to the Player and I Want to hug Eph. so badly.

I have such a soft spot for trans man Strelitzia!!!! I like it when Him :))) just Strelitzia looking the exact same very pretty and cute but also rocking the he/him pronouns. I love weird girl Strelitzia so sooooo much like once he gets past his horrible social anxiety he’s going to make you a necklace made of bones. Where did they come from? idk. don’t worry about it

Lauriam is a mlm trans man and doesn’t bind we love to see it

Blaine is just like. mlm nonbinary virusgender icon, he/they/it pronouns or whatever pronouns are most confusing at the moment because it’s funny. Idk what it is about him that makes him like, such an easy character to project mental illness onto but like oh my god. A lot of it is very personal to me so like, I won’t say everything,, but a big one is trust issues that he works thru with the others (oh my god I cry about blaine when he was first introduced vs the end of khux HE CARES ABOUT EVERYONE SOOOO MUCH) also he does not like being perceived stop looking at him right now-

You look at Ventus and tell me he knows what a gender is. He doesn’t. what’s a pronoun. just straight vibing

Elrena is so lesbian and so not cis idk they’re just out here. Elrena hates everyone but would like to hold hands with Strelitzia very much

This last one is soooooo so niche but like. Holding the former captain of the sewer squad and the new captain. they are in lesbians.

#you can tell I'm a foreteller stan bc I really went off with them #tried not to write an essay about luxu #some stuff I didnt mention bc its very personal and I'm shy and anxious adfgfshd #headcanons #khux #kh #kingdom hearts #ask #anon #khux essay

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

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∘◦ ♥ ◦∘ Peter Parker - Everything Happens for a Reason ∘◦ ♥ ◦∘

A/N - I only wrote it a couple of months ago and due to the close nature of it, I haven’t uploaded it anywhere. I hope you like my first (10k) Peter Parker fic. I know that the timeline doesn’t make sense, but in all honesty, Endgame and FFH messed it up plenty so I just kinda placed this in no-mans-time. And I know the compound was destroyed during Endgame, so just bear with the fact that I’ve made it so that Strange and his wizards rebuilt it for survivors :)

Warnings - making out and shadows to sex, SWEARING, bad parenting, mentions of grief, mentions of injury and disability, angst, death of parents etc. Also, don’t read if you haven’t seen endgame because it’ll be spoiled in the first paragraph of this.

Summary - Stark!reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and the retirement of your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step-mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason.

IT'S BEEN JUST OVER THREE MONTHS since the final battle, and therefore just over three months since you said goodbye to the only three role models you had for the most important five years of your life. Well, the three are debatable.

Your dad had died, still holding your hand, after saving humanity like he always did, allowing the burden of the Stark name to fall onto you at long last. Your uncle Steve - tutor extraordinaire - had officially retired and moved away, and you haven’t seen him since the final goodbye, leaving you more and more doubtful every day you’ll ever see him again. And your aunty Nat let herself go, she pushed herself away from that cliff, and let uncle Clint live, to help give you a better life, but what Nat didn’t realise was that you lost them both that day, because Clint hasn’t been back since. He’s never coming back now from the trauma, the man who was more of a father than your dad ever was.

It was quite possibly the worst period of your whole life, but then again, when half of the world is destroyed before you’ve even hit puberty, you don’t really have much to hold it against.

But here you are again, stuck in your room in the semi-rebuilt compound, grounded by FRIDAY while the step monster and child are at the lake house, living happily ever after. What the issue is, you don’t know. All you did was get a piercing... and be rude to Peter. And Sam. And everyone in the building- ok maybe she has a point, but hey, you’re grieving the loss of everyone major in your life, and you can barely do anything for yourself.

It’s like five years ago all over again. Everyone you’d grown accustomed to, your friends, your mom, your idols - even if they weren’t dead, they were lost for a long time - and your crush. The one and only Peter Parker. Much to your surprise, you got over most of the deaths pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to understand - they were gone and they wouldn’t come back no matter what, so what good would worrying and crying do? Obviously, as a young girl, this was the wrong response, so this is when Pepper got her name. “Don’t be so insensitive! Those were your dad's best friends, people he worked with for years. Those people were his family, and mine, and yours.”

You scoffed at her, the way you always seemed to do. “Yeah, ok. But my mum died, and am I making a fuss? No. She died for a reason, they all did,” and under your breath, you added “I still just need to figure that reason out.”

You held back from the obvious “they were my family too” bullshit, because your dad never believed that, even when you spent most of your time at his house with the Avengers instead of him. It wasn’t that you hated your mom or your dad, you loved them both equally and spent time with them both, but when one dies and one goes missing and spirals into lord knows what after going missing in space with a blue alienoid, everything gets a little complicated and stops making sense. Spending more time with your dad was scary too, seeing the intricacies of Avengers life in a capacity which you didn’t understand for a long time growing up. That only lasted for a year before he took off and made you be a tennis ball in a flawed game between him and Rhodey. Every weekend for five years you drove from the compound to the lake house. You lost out on a lot from that, and your dad didn’t even seem phased, because he had Morgan.

But beneath all of the hatred that had made you so rebellious since you turned fifteen, there was something deeper.

Considering how stone faced and resolute you are and always have been, considering how harsh you are about the realities and never getting caught up in mindless emotions, no matter how much you claim that your grieving time was over the second that you pushed your dad's heart away, mere weeks after feeling his pulse drop as you laced your fingers with his, no one would believe that it was all a lie.

Every night since that snap more than five years ago, you’ve done the same thing. Make a cup of hot chocolate (an iced decaf latte if it was summer), and you’d take it to bed and just cry until you could no more and simply fell asleep. You weren’t even sure why you cried, because after all there wasn’t really any reason to. The world was moving on, albeit slower than before, and your life was about as much locked into place as it could be with Tony Stark as your father, but the crying just felt obligatory. After ten, FRIDAY always turned off in your room, that was the agreement your mom had with your dad whenever you stayed there, although you weren’t sure why it made a difference, and it just stuck, so no one saw the pointless tears, no one heard, and no one cared. The only one who ever did care enough whenever you cried had been snapped away, and now he was back, you were just another repugnant face in the crowds, or so you’d guess with the way he looked down upon you.

“It’s ok dad,” you said with a completely straight face, your hard eyes locked onto his, your entire being completely void of emotion, “you can go to sleep.”

He squeezed your hand with his forefinger and middle finger, very lightly, and he just croaked out his final words to you, “my beautiful Sloane, so brave.” So quiet that they were only decipherable to you.

“Life functions critical,” the Irish accent rang in your ears.

Pete had already said his goodbyes, but now it was Pepper’s turn as she wiped your dad's tears away. This time you should’ve been there for each other, a support for one another, after all, they were losing him together and were in the same boat, but sometimes even grief can’t bring people together.

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be ok..” she pleaded.

Your dad's eyes moved from yours to hers, a sluggish movement that took the remaining life from him. He moved his lips to form two words that broke your heart, because you knew that they were directed at all of you, and they meant so much more than anyone else could understand. Those words were his attempt at making up for being such a shit dad. ‘I’m sorry.’

Pepper kissed him. “You can rest now.”

You didn’t even look around to see anyone else’s face , especially not Peters or Peppers, because as soon as his pulse stopped and his skin slipped from your grip, his body cold, you knew that the chapter of your life with your father in it was over, so you pulled your mask back over your face, and strutted away, as far as possible. You ignored your limp completely, because with all of the numbness, it was like you couldn’t even feel the pain. Except you didn’t disappear, no way, you couldn’t. You watched as they all knelt for him, for the man who missed all of your firsts in life, who was absent when you needed a father and a friend and a leader, and even though you were chronically broken within, every terrible emotion gnawing at you, screaming at you to just feel something and express it; you didn’t. You suppressed it all, and walked away. And of no surprise to you at all, no one followed, or even noticed you were gone.

After all, Tony Stark died for a reason, and at least this time you knew what that reason was.

“Miss?” Someone’s snapping their fingers beside your ear, driving you mental but also snapping you awake from whatever dream that was, reliving the scariest day of your life. “Miss, you fell asleep at the table. We’re clearing it for dinner, please.”

You roll your eyes up at him, instantly recognising Pete’s voice, but you just don’t care. He doesn’t even know who you are. So you scoff, the way you did at Pepper so long ago, and you leave without a second glance.

“Are you a relative of Nat’s? I- I heard someone was coming over to stay...” his voice yells down the corridor.

“You can’t be serious Peter. You don’t recognise me at all?”

And with that, you snatch your water bottle from the edge of the counter with your spare hand and resolutely stamp off down the corridor, your feet loosely wading in your docs with your crutch assisting you along the way.

You’re leaving soon, so you won’t have to deal with him. But you still have another year or two of high school to compete with, and with your tutor gone - your dad refused to send you back to school after the snap, so it was left up to whoever wanted the job, and Cap wanted it a lot more than he did, so you spent your weeks driving from the city to the lake house after finishing the weeks tutoring, to spend time with your ‘family’ - and now, you seriously doubted that anyone else would want the job. Bucky is too hormonal and grieving the loss of his best friend, Banner is freaking you out, Clint is off the grid from another breakdown and it’s like he’s not even human anymore, Wilson is too busy with his new training regime and fighting Buck, and Scott doesn’t know the first thing about what you need to learn thanks to his ditsy persona. Which only leaves Pepper and Rhodey, and which forces you to go back and live in the lake house, away from the shambles of the rebuilt compound, all thanks to Strange and his wizards.

Maybe this is what you need, because now you don’t have to see Pete and get offended every single time he forgets your name and doesn’t have a clue who you are.

That night, you skipped your crying routine, and felt no better nor worse off for doing so. You simply dosed up on your painkillers and drifted off to sleep, filled with irritation and dreams of a mousey hero.

For the next couple of days, you’d just gone about your business and avoided the funny looks from all of the other Avengers at your foul demeanour. None of them that were in and out of the rebuilt compound ever really took notice of you anymore, and you weren’t sure that any of them recognised you anymore, not with all of the piercings and hair dye and the crutches. After all, the last time most of them knew you, you were an annoying child who watched them work and ate dinners with them, and your dinners consisted of smiley face waffles and chicken nuggets. And besides, you were perfectly able back then, and you often had little friends over, or your mom would pop in to say hi on your way home. There’s no chance of that happening anymore. Bucky had recognised you, smiled at you, and occasionally made jokes about you being crippled together, so with any issues you could just turn to him, but this Peter thing annoyed you too much to talk about it, and you didn’t know why.

Speak of the devil-

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, standing just behind the sofa and hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” you say, all of your words merging and slurring. You signal to the seat beside you yet far enough away for him not to be a bother, and he takes it.

“So h-how are you?”

You watch him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye, because you can just feel his eyes on you, namely on your tits that had suddenly appeared in the last few years.

“I’m fine thank you, Peter. It’s not like no one knows who the fuck I am and I’m living in a literal post war, dystopian, apocalyptic world all alone. How are you, Spider-Man?”

He blanches before your eyes, and you can physically see any words die in the back of his throat.

“I-I’m good.”

Everything stills for a little while, and the only sounds are what's playing on TV and Peter’s occasional swallows, making his Adams apple Bob in your peripheral view. He doesn’t dare look at you, and you can just sense his agitation, mainly from the way he fidgets and weighs the sofa cushions down weirdly with his weird spider legs.

It only takes half an hour for you to wear down and ask him the burning question, his presence beside you enough to make your skin tingle in anticipation and anger bubble within, not to mention the girlish sense that overwhelms you, so contrasting to your dark clothes and self-given bridge piercing.

“Why don’t you speak to me anymore, Peter? Do you seriously not recognise me?”

His eyes fall and his face turns sallow, and he stammers over a few consonants, unable to form any real words.

“I’m Tony’s daughter.” You announce, facing him head on. “Y/N Stark.”

Only after you’ve said that do you realise that he’ll have absolutely no clue what you’re saying, but you can see the cogs whirring in his head as everything is pieced together. His eyes lock onto yours, and they’re the one feature you haven’t changed about yourself in the years that he was gone.

“I changed my name last year, I used to be-”

“-Sloane Stark.” he finishes with you.

He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, too lost in them after he’s been without them for so long. Something’s clicked inside, but scepticism overtakes him. You grasp your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck, all the loose ringlets in different shades tickling your neck, but it reveals a thin, pale, bumpy scar on your skin; a thin and jagged line that runs from the base of your ear to the start of your clavicle. You’ve had it since you were 11, when Peter first became a regular at the compound and you began to play together, but then an accident happened, and Peter stayed by your side as you got the stitches, holding your hand.

Finally, he cottons on, and you can see the tears welling up in his chocolate brown orbs.

“Sloane…”

He virtually leaps from his seat and throws his arms around you, completely overcome with all kinds of inexplicable feelings. Love seeps from his body into yours, he clings to you, and even buries his nose into your hair, taking a deep inhalation before sighing in contentment. Even when the average hug time has passed, he doesn’t release you, and keeps his arms wrapped like a koala around your shoulders, his body slowly getting closer and closer towards you and for some reason making you blush. Your arms remain limp around him, and your forefinger traces figures on his lower back, but you don’t squeeze him as much as you did when the surprise of his cuddle attack first hit you.

He eases himself away, but still keeps his hand on your arm, a gentle and warm presence.

It doesn’t hit you for a while that it’s the first hug you’ve received in months, and the first one from Peter in five and a half years.

“I’m guessing that you didn’t snap away like the rest of us then…?” he asks shyly.

His spare hand immediately retracts and rubs the back of his neck anxiously, just the way he used to, but only now do you understand why.

“Nah, I didn’t,” you say, “Sadly I was stuck here in this shambles of an earth, dealing with everyone else's depression and having a little sister forced upon me. I couldn’t even go to school, it was awful.”

His face falls into a deep frown and he searches your face for any sign of your words being cynical, but he finds nothing.

“W-why did you change your name then?”

You shrug, for what feels like the hundredth time in his presence, “Sloane is an awful name, it means ‘raider’ in bloody Irish. None of my family is Irish, my dad suggested the name when he was drunk, and my mum couldn’t think of anything better. Y/N makes me feel like me.”

He nods understandingly and doesn’t push the matter, so you offer a half smile and move your attention back to the TV.

“Why did you change you?” he asks all of a sudden.

The question instantly ingrains itself into your brain, and makes your heart ache. Why would he ask such a thing? Doesn’t he understand what's happened? Why does he even care? But the last thought makes you sick to your stomach, because you know that he always has cared and he always will, he promised you that the first time he was babysitting you and you got all het up over something on the TV. Maybe a part of him knew that it was you all along but he just couldn’t broach the subject, or maybe he didn’t and he thought you’d been snapped away and you simply hadn’t returned. No matter what it was,you knew that you couldn’t blame him, but as his question bounced around your brain and repeated, you had no idea what happened, but you felt any compassion shrivel up, your heart grew cold, your demeanour turned harsh, and your kind response died in your throat. You look him dead in the face and straighten yourself up, your eyes devoid of all feeling.

“My mom died, all of my idols and my family and school friends died - Scott, Buck, Sam, you - and my dad was never the same again. I was left with him and the step monster who, who for the record doesn't even like me because of my mom, and Morgan came along, so they forgot about me, and I only stayed three days a week because the rest of the time I was stuck here with a depressed Nat and counsellor Steve, and the latter had to teach me everything I needed for the finish of middle school and my freshman and sophomore years, which was hard in itself. Dad was so depressed, he wouldn’t listen to the words I said about the other Avengers, so apart from Steve tutoring me, I basically raised myself for two years, without friends or anything, and they were two of the most important years of my life . Everyone forgot about me. I was just turned fifteen and more adept at coping in this world than any adult I’ve known. I hated my name and what came with it, and I never really liked myself, that's always been the case. I hated my appearance and I had no one to make me feel nice when you died, because you always told me that I was pretty, just like a princess, and you kept me sane. Fuck, Pete, you held me together, and all of that faded when you died, because as soon as you were gone, everything else around me crumbled.” You inhale a sharp intake of breath, and move to stand, snatching your crutches from the floor. “Long story short, while all of you were gone, I grew up. I’m 17 now, I may be different to how you remember but at least I feel comfortable now. I really did grow up peter, and you need to start doing the same. My dad is never coming back.”

And just like the days before, you scurry off back to your room and bury any inhibitions beneath your pillow, leaving Peter in the living room, completely crushed and left to mull your words over alone while he waits for May to get home.

Five days later, and you can’t take the silence anymore. Peter practically hides and runs for shelter each time he hears you approach, you saw the footage on FRIDAY’s cams. It really upset you for the first two days, but with each shy, rushed smile and fleeting glance he takes at you, each one that makes your stomach do little flips, they just remind you how cruel you were to him, how brutally honest, when Peter needs more time to heal than you do most likely, as your dad meant more to Pete than he did to you, and if anything then that's a reflection on Tony. He wanted a son. Maybe Peter feels guilty, mabe he’s sad, maybe he just straight up doesn’t like you, but whatever it is, you don’t fucking like it, so you’re preparing for the move in two days time. Far earlier than planned.

With each piece of clothing you fold, with each piece of metal shrapnel you toss into your jewellery box, with each eyeliner you tuck away in a bag, you run everything that's happened in the past week through your head. You called Scott up to see how he’s getting on with Hope and Cassie, you spoke to Laura - no longer a secret - who just told you that Barton is in almost as bad a place as before, just without the machetes and with a lot more crying and whiskey, you spoke to Rhodey for an update on the lake house/new home situation and put all of the plans in place, but you did shut down his heartfelt offer to be another father figure, starting with a controversial suggestion to send you to therapy or rehab for your ‘lashing outs’, and you’d made amends with Sam who was surprisingly okay with your whole new thing going on, and he said he loved your vibe and gave hair dye suggestions, making you rethink your decision to leave all over again. Bucky had taken you shopping, hoping for retail to cure both of your depressive episodes, but it didn't really help even if the long, deep conversation over milkshakes at a nearby diner did help, and he cradled your head in his lap as you told him you’d miss him more than the others. He told you that you were being stupid about Peter and that the kid really likes you, but you retorted with a scoff, saying he’d never fancy you the way you fancy him.

Ah, yeah, that revelation, the one which makes you throw a sweater full force into your open trunk, sitting at the base of your bed. With a loud groan, you throw yourself dramatically down onto the bed and savour the soft comforter for one of the last times; after all, the place will probably be gone, along with the remnants of FRIDAY by the time you return, if you ever go.

“Where are you off to?” Peter asks from the doorway, his voice inquisitive and startling you from your angered daze.

He must’ve seen your bags half packed in your room, lying out on your bed beside you. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes thin and bullet-like.

“I’m leaving.” You snap rather viciously, and prop yourself up on your elbows. “The Cap’n has gone, and I’ve been out of school too long to go back. The Step-Monster needs to ‘tutor me’, and I need to teach the little brat.” You’re referring to Morgan, but Peter doesn’t seem to pick that up by the looks of his furrowed brows. He certainly looks relaxed though, leaning against your doorframe.

“Why can’t you stay here?” Peter asks and You shrug, unsure how to respond. “I- I’m sure Mr Falcon would help teach you, or- or Wanda?”

Shit, Wanda. You’d practically forgotten she existed from how much of a recluse she was now. You should probably go and check on her or at the very least have a chat with her. She was dead for five years, just like Vis, but when she comes back she’s still not over him after months? Sounds fake but ok...

“Wanda has even less of an education than I do.” You retaliate with a foul attitude and an even fouler taste in your mouth, turning your back on him when you stand, and going back to your packing. You try your best to ignore his presence, but you can just feel him hovering metres away, itching to do or say something to you.

“Well then you can stay living here and enrol in Midtown High with me. We’d be the same year now and I could show you the ropes.”

Ok now you know he’s fucking with you.

“Peter, I can’t go to midtown.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been out of co-ed for too long, let alone education, as I haven’t had any since like fucking February, and I’m too traumatised and crippled for them. How would that look eh? Y/N Stark enrolling for junior year after the death of The Tony Stark?” Peter goes quiet. “And anyway, it’s not like I have the brains, at all. I’m not smart like you, Peter. I’m as thick as two short planks. I got my mom’s brains and some of my dad's abilities. I can chuck on suits all I like, I can build shit all day, and I can play sports like no one's business; or at least I could.” Having your one ankle completely useless is a complete bummer, maybe even more so than losing everyone, because now you actually have to live with being this way. They don’t have to live. “But the second you give me a math equation, I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t you live with your mom then? Mr Stark said she doesn’t live too far out of state, nowhere near as far as the lake house.”

“My dads fucking dead Peter, he doesn’t control shit anymore” You find yourself shouting, your eyes burning into his with a fire of fury behind them. “My mom came back after the snap but she hasn’t answered any of my calls, and she fled the house when I turned up on her goddamn doorstep. She ain’t no option anymore, my authority is Potts.”

He gives you a sad smile but slinks away. No surprise there, last time he saw you, you were twelve years old and tugging on his trouser leg to get him to play basketball with you. You didn’t have anywhere near this level of anger, and you’d never have dared scream at him, let alone repeating the words that hit him like daggers mere days ago.

The next day comes too soon, and you’re just chilling , finishing up the last of your packing, and trying to ignore anything pushing you to stay. Why did your chat with Peter compel you to want to stay here instead? What is it about him that always brings you full circle, and makes you feel like that love struck child again?

From your mirror, as you’re adjusting your blouse and switching out your nose stud, you see Peter approaching, steadily advancing down the corridor. Twice he stops, and takes a step back, as well as turning and looking the other way as though doubting his decision to come into your room, but when you see his knuckles come in contact with the wood of your door, as he knocks gently, and the sound floats into your ears, making you turn around to see his meek smile with his head hung low.

“You can come in Pete,” you exhale, “I won’t bite your head off.”

He chuckles lowly and advances towards the bed. He gestures, and you nod, giving him permission and hobbling over to join him moments later. He seems flustered, you can tell me by the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact and the manner in which his hands are convulsing in his lap. Seeing him like this makes you uncomfortable, and you can even feel bile rising in your throat.

“Peter, I-”

“No, Y/N, please let me, I mean, I wanna talk.”

You smile and bow out, allowing him space to align his thoughts with his words, after all, you’ve known that it takes him a while to do that, but it’s necessary in any kind of emotional situation with someone as awkward as Petter; just the thought causes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach and windpipe.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, for nagging you and insisting, and for asking you those questions and trying to make you stay. I just, I really just don’t want you to leave. I was insensitive, and I should’ve recognised you beforehand.” You can feel tears pooling behind your eyes, and it takes all of your willpower to not let them fall. “I just want you to do as well as you can, and I wish you all the best, I just wish I could’ve gotten to know you better before it was too late; ok Stark?”

His lips quirk into a smile, yet his voice breaks as he calls you Stark. It physically hurts to hear him say that, and you want to tell him that it’s okay, and he has every right to be upset and grieving, and you know you shouldn’t have shouted at him and gotten so defensive because after all he’s one of the only people you can let your guard down around. You just want to say that it’s not his fault, except you can’t find the words.

“Why can’t you stay?” He asks sincerely, even a touch of desperation there.

Your heart drops to your feet at his expression, and your next words come out as a hushed, pained whisper, your words slow and detached. “I have no reason to stay.”

He nods dejectedly, almost like he’s giving up on something, and he even moves to stand up while your eyes are glued to the way his muscles ripple with each movement, but halfway to being upright, he changes his mind and turns towards you.

The next thing you know, you feel the soft pressure of his thumb on your chin, followed by the pads of his fingers on the soft skin underneath, tilting your head up to look him in his gorgeous eyes, like molten honey in the soft sunlight of your bedroom. Just the sight of his lips slightly parted causes your mouth to go dry, but you don’t have too long to think about that, because all of your thoughts dissipate with the featherlight pressure and sweet, intoxicating taste of his lips on yours. His nose nudges your cheek ever so gently. It’s barely there, and over far too soon, it still makes your head spin. Christ, you’ve been waiting for that to happen for upwards of five years, and it was just as beautiful as you hoped it would be.

“How about now?” He inquires, a stark contrast of shyness and courage written all over his face.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll find out?”

You fist the fabric of his t-shirt and pull him towards you, leaving Peter shocked by the strength in just one hand, seeing as he finds his body hovering above yours just seconds later. He looks hungry, already ravishing you with his eyes as you kiss and kitten lick just below his ear. He holds his weight up but leaves no time to press his lips against yours, urgently, passionately. You moan a little at how desperate he is to get his hands on you, the way he knots one hand in your hair, splayed out on the pillow beside you, the way he’s senselessly grinding his crotch onto you. You don’t mind at all, especially not the breathy calls of your name he lets out when you knot your legs around his lower back to pull him closer. It's a primal desire that keeps you moving. His tongue glides across your lower lip, prying its way in, and you just let it happen, too caught up in the moment to do anything else.

“Pete, fuck…”

Your one hand slides under his shirt and runs across the ripples of his abs, you savour the way he tenses beneath your touch, the way the scars feel tenders beneath your hungry touch. You other hand threads into his soft brown locks. You pull gently and elicit the most perfect guttural groan from him.

“Y/N,” he almost pleads, and his lips move to gently suck on your jawline.

You’re surprised that he isn't calling you Sloane, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your name from his tongue does things to you that you can’t even explain.

You dance your fingers from his hair across to his face, and push his cheek gently. Your eyes are thin, focussed on him, but Peter’s pupils are heavily blown with lust, leaving only a faint rim of golden brown around the edge.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps out, and your stomach coils in desire. Your face must look so pouty, so wanton, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Fuck me, Peter.”

He looks like a deer in headlights momentarily, but gets over it quickly, attaching his lips back on yours and allowing his tongue to roam your mouth, savuring and swallowing every whimper and moan that escapes your pretty lips.You let your hand, the one still beneath his shirt, skim over his muscles to where his heart is, beating at a double pace, thrumming gently beneath your hand. It makes your ego inflate tenfold, knowing that you’ve gotten this flustered and needy.

Just as you’re really getting lost in the pleasure, Peter’s hand cupping and massaging your breast as his mouth works wonders on intoxicating you, you hear a rather loud cough from your doorway, and everything stops. You and Peter both freeze at the same moment, and you drop any stance, fully detaching yourselves to glance at who’s there.

“You kids should be careful, and next time, close the door.”

And with that, Bucky’s gone from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving you both with a mere glimpse at him in his sweats with a coffee cup in his hands, no doubt filled with earl grey tea being the old lady he is.

In the heat of the moment, you’d both forgotten to close the door and turn FRIDAY off. And Rhodey can access all of the footage. Fuck. Oh well, you’ve already been caught once, why stop now?

You wrap an arm around Peter's shoulders and pull yourself up until you’re straddling his lap and upper thighs, eagerly rubbing yourself against the material of his jeans to try and get some kind of friction. He slides an arm around your waist, and you move in to kiss him, only for him to turn his head the other way.

The moment couldn’t have been lost from Bucky’s playfully snarky comment, could it? You want nothing more than for him to kiss you again, earnestly, fervently, but he doesn’t even spare you a glance, not even when he pushes you from his lip and stands up with his head in his hands.

Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Y/N…”

He even begins to pace, that’s when you know that he thinks he’s fucked up.

“You know why I shouldn’t have done that right, don’t you?” he asks, stuttering random syllables in no specific order, but you do notice that with each pace, he paces his way closer to your open door.

“Yeah,” you lie, but you’ll work that out tonight, “I get it. But it’s fine. And I need to pack…”

He smiles nervously, and with a few careless gestures and no words, he stalks into the corridor and closes your door behind him. You can hear him lettering a long-held breath out.

All of a sudden, you feel completely sick to your stomach. Why would he do that? It was so God damn cryptic. One second he’s apologising, asking you to stay, pashing you senseless, and the next he’s keeping as much distance from you as possible, apologising, and treating you like a child.

That’s when it hits you.

He feels like he’s kissing the old you. You grew up without him there, and in the space of what was merely a nap to him, you grew five years older, grew tits, matured, changed every aspect about yourself, and developed a sex drive; whereas he didn’t change one bit, he’s still the same peter that he was when you were an aggravating child, crushing on him from afar and trying to be like him. He feels predatory at kissing you, because all he’s ever known you as is a child, and this is all new territory, a territory he’s too scared to broach because he can’t get permission from the man himself.

Maybe that’s why your dad had to die, so that you’d never end up with Peter, and that’s Earth punishing you for some godforsaken reason.

So you just lie there, far salty tears involuntarily dripping down your cheeks as you sit there and think. Will you ever just be fucking happy?

Happy’s set to pick you up at noon today, and after a night of scarcely five hours of sleep, you are not in the mood for anyone and their funny business, especially not Peter, and you aren’t exactly peppy for the hour long drive to arrive there with the Bimbo and the Brat. Well, at least everyone has low expectations of you, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue when you simply scowl at them and flip them off until you chuck yourself into the car and wave them goodbye for the last time. You’re not sure if the gravity of the situation has hit you yet, maybe you’re repressing it, or maybe it simply just does not bother you, the same way that most things don’t.

You don’t even bother with your appearance, and stick to black trackies and a cropped tank top, with a mildly colourful button-down open over the top. Seeing as your docs are packed in the ‘hide from Pepper’ box, you toss on your worn down black converse and begrudgingly throw your hair up in what you hoped would be a messy bun but ends up looking more like a lopsided half-up ponytail, so you snap the hair tie and throw it away. Hey, that’s an easy way to deal with the Peter issue. Snap him in half and chuck him in the trash where he rightfully belongs after yesterday.

All you have for breakfast is an iced coffee, and justly so, no one dares even make eye contact with you. By ten, all of your bags are out in the hallway, and not a single personal affect is left in your room. You say a quick goodbye to FRIDAY, and hobble out into the living room, where you spend the next almost two hours either staring blankly ahead of you and ignoring what’s on the screen, or picking at your crutches while you analyse the previous day with Peter. No matter how much you want to hate him, you can't refute the way he made you feel, completely under his control, so willing and malleable, so eager and hungry and loved.

Happy pulls up at 11.55, and you begin to help him load everything into the car, but get refused after two bags and therefore two trips downstairs after you nearly fall face first and your crutches slip from your arms. The rest is down within seconds by Sam and Bucky.

You said goodbye to Wanda a couple of days ago when you popped in for a chat, but she’d still made her way out here, so you give her a quick hug and wish her well, and you see that May has made her way out to see you off, but Peter is nowhere to be found which makes your cheeks burn with anger.

“I’m so sorry for now knowing who you were my love,” she tells you, running a hand through your hair, “Peter told me all about you before it all happened, he said you were such a cutie, and I know that he would’ve made more of an effort had he recognised you.”

You chuckle softly, hug her, and simply don’t reply. What are you supposed to say to something like that? Bucky and Sam appear back at the top of the stairs and advance towards you, knocking each other out of the way in a playful battle to hug you first. Sam wins by tickling Bucky just beneath his ribs, and bear hugs you, making you feel like a baby koala.

“Use protection next time, and please, God, shut the door.” He whispers in your ear, making you jump away, your jaw slack, utterly aghast, but he just laughs at your expense.

“You told him about that?” you accuse Bucky, shoving a finger at his chest.

He raises his hands in surrender and even lets out a chuckle before cuddling you, his metal arm somehow a comforting presence around you.

“Of course I did, Doll. It was too good not to tell.”

You swat him gently on his chest, but instead of pulling away just yet, you bury your face in his t-shirt for possibly the last time.

“You two kids get along, or I might have to come here and whip your asses.” you glance between Bucky and Sam, making them laugh, but they nod nonetheless and step backwards to join May, allowing you to leave. You grasp your crutches and let your arms fall through the rests, your hands slipping around the handles like second nature, and you start to make your way out. Something that resembles hope begins to blossom in your stomach, so you muster all of your courage and take a fleeting glimpse over your shoulder, but much to your disappointment yet not very much surprise, he isn’t there. You feel something within your chest physically break, and with the pain all over your body, emotional above all else, stemming from betrayal, you wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t your heart strings. Oh well, you tell yourself, and in recovery from bowing your head down in embarrassment, you hold your shoulders high with any remaining pride as you take the few steps to the door, ignoring the tears that begin to fall. Your tears are possibly the most confusing thing about this ordeal, you never cried before, not from emotion at least.

“Stop- Y/N, wait, please Sloane…” you hear breathless shouts, followed by hurried footsteps on the linoleum. Instantly, you recognise his voice. “Please stop, I’m begging you.”

You halt your steps, and prop your crutches against the wall, but are slow to turn around, and even when you do, it takes you a moment to actually meet his gaze. His eyes hold all of the hurt he’s feeling. He hardly slept, you can tell by the red rims and deep, sallow bags. The warm chocolate colour is slightly murky, something of an anger in them, maybe even a sense of loss.

You can’t track anything more, because you take one step forwards, and he begins to virtually sprint towards you, his hair bouncing as he dashes across the floor and entwines his arms around you like vines, relentlessly squeezing you and ceasing to let go. He simply just stands there, glued to the spot, holding onto you, and once more you feel the tears well in your eyes. You’ve never been hugged this way, not by anyone, so you make the most of it and gently grasp his t-shirt to draw him impossibly closer, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. He moves one hand up to knot in your matted hair, and buries your head closer into his shoulder, which you welcome, even if you’re wetting the shoulder of his shirt with your tears. You lose count of the time until you let go, just savouring the way he holds you so lovingly, and you don’t particularly ever want to let go. All of the rest of the world has disappeared. But still, you both detach yourselves just a little, and you find your lips mere inches away from his perfect lips. Without another thought, something otherworldly takes over, and you find your lips planted together in the most intimate way possible. The tip of his tongue barely has to swipe your lower lip before you grant him access, and as you do, your mind and soul proclaim thanks to the gods. He tastes like heaven and cherry pie - his favourite - and he feels even better. The way his tongue dances with yours is like a massage, second nature, and God, you never want it to stop with how crazy he’s making your mind go, let alone the flock of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. His one hand shifts to the small or your back, and you find yourself wrapping your arms even tighter around Peter until your hands touch, and you have him held in place, in the most perfect position, the one where you know he belongs.

You separate, gasping for air and gulping as much down as you can in such a short amount of time before his hands are in your hair again and he’s kissing you just as sweetly, yet hotly, as before. The sensual way he gazes at you makes your insides turn to mush in seconds, and you have to look away even before he kisses you again because you fear you shan’t be able to keep his gaze if you ever want to leave this place with your heart intact. This kiss isn’t as long, you realise that as your hands drop to his waist and stay there lightly, feeling the skin above his hips rippling beneath his tensing muscles. His body shifts, as does his grip on you, and he starts to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, just small, precious pecks that keep your heart beating with joy and longing. Just the feeling of his lips kissing away your tears as he hovers above you makes you feel alive at long last, and he makes you feel more cherished than you ever imagined you could.

“You need to go, Happy’ll start honking for you any second.” he breathes, the softness of his breath running your eyelashes and allowing your eyes to flutter clothes, his freckles disappearing from your view for a second. Then, as if on cue, Happy's horn resounds. “I’ll walk you down.”

He looks so crestfallen as he pulls away from your and passes you your crutches, keeping a safe distance. And although you both know that everyone saw, it doesn’t matter, and no one says a word, they all just observe quietly, but you can tell that they’re smiling down on you both. You can still taste your salty tears mingled together pressing on your lips, the taste of just indescribably, distinctly Peter stuck in your mouth, a taste you never want to stop tasting.

When Peter crushes, you oblige and scramble onto his back as he carries your crutches, and the walk down the stairwell to where Happy’s parked on the sidewalk is a silent one, but it’s still comfortable. There are so many things the two of you want to say to each other, but it’s too hard to express them given that you’re about to be shipped off somewhere that he’ll probably never make your acquaintance again, no matter how much he wants to spend all of his time with you. You’re more conflicted than you’ve ever felt, so stressed, so hurt, but at the same time you’re so happy that you got to make those memories with Peter before you leave, elated that you made up with him, pleased that you got to feel him kiss you one last time.

When you reach the concrete, Peter gently places you down on your feet, and he puts your crutches into the open door at the back of the car and proceeds to stand nervously beside you, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. You have your head down, anxious beyond comparison, just staring at the gravel, until one of Peter's hands comes out from where it was and takes your trembling hand into his palm, his fingers slowly tangling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. He switches his gaze over to you and catches your eye. He smiles briefly before bringing your knuckles up to his lips.

“I’ve fancied you since I was eleven,” you tell him, “That’s almost six years, that’s a long ass time.” a brief hint of humour creeps into your pained, quiet voice.

He just chuckles and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, making you smile, despite the pain of the situation. He speaks to you real soft. “I know.”

Your hand feels like it was meant to fit in his and sends a new sort of warmth shooting through your body, but it doesn’t last long before he’s helping you into the backseat of the car and reluctantly removing his nimble fingers from their grip around yours, and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead for good measure, a kiss you’ll always treasure.

“Don’t,” you plead, feeling a sob suddenly choke your throat when all that’s left are his fingertips grazing yours. “Don’t let go, Peter, please.”

It’s difficult to remain stoic around Peter now, it’s like everything just completely pivoted the day he kissed you, and if you’re honest, you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to be the hateful girl you once were, just longing for him to come back. Now he is back, you don’t have to wait anymore, and he can help you be your old self again. If only he’d just hold your hand forever, and you could actually be together.

And then it hits you. You need Peter almost as much as you need air to breathe, and if he lets go, you’ll be lost, and it’ll feel like it did for five whole years, you’ll be lonely and isolated, and even in the few days that you’ve had him back in your life, that feeling has completely dissipated and been replaced with an albeit confused elation and a warmth of love.

“I have to,” he whispers back his eyes already red, “I have to let you go. It’s what Mr Stark would want.”

He pulls away and closes the door in one swift movement, turning his back on you. You see his mop of brunette curls slip down from view when you peer out the window, hot tears burning your cheeks. You know he’s sitting on the side, his head in his hands, but you can’t look that far, so instead you listen to the soft purr of the car as it comes to live, and you let your laboured breath steam up the glass that your hands are placed on. As you begin to pull away, your final glimpse at your old home escaping you, you see Peter waving frantically and beginning to job alongside you, only stopping once you exit the driveway. Thanks to the tinted windows, you know he can’t see you, but you see him anyway and wave back before your pain overwhelms you. That happens the second he’s gone from your peripheral vision, and your chest caves in loud, wrenching sobs that’ll leave you in pain for days.

Is this what it feels like to have your heartbroken?

Of course it is, you know this, but all of the times you’ve felt it before, it still hasn’t felt this bad. You know that it’s happening for a reason, that God is punishing you this way for a reason, but no matter how hard you try, it just seems endlessly painful, and all for nothing. What could possibly be the reason for this?

You’re so locked in your thoughts that you barely realise that Happy has slowed the car down, and is looking over his shoulder at you, trying to bring you back down by asking how you are and how you feel. Did he not just see that display?

“If I was allowed to stay,” you slightly pant, your teeth gripping and your first clenching of their own accord, “then it could’ve been me and Peter. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be as I was growing up. But everything happens for a fucking reason, right?”

Happy just swallows and mumbles something incoherent before sliding the glass back over and starting up at another steady speed. You don’t know why you’re so... angry all of a sudden; you shouldn’t be angry, you should be upset and almost grieving, crying for the loss of an old home but excited for a new one. But yet, what’s the point in all of that? You’ve felt those emotions plenty of times in your short life, and you always thought you felt them for a reason, but where the ever loving fuck is that reasoning right now when you actually need it?

Grieving has lost its effect on you by now, and your mind feels hostile from all of the thoughts whirring around. You’ve had the same thoughts every time someone died - every time you thought your dad died, when your mom died, when Peter died, when everyone else just turned to dust. Then you felt them all over again when your dad died, for real this time, but what was the point? Nothing good ever came of it… nothing except grieving for Peter. You felt the same way you do now, only now it's somehow worse, yet he isn’t dead. You grieved for him more than you did your own mother, because he cared, because he actually paid attention, because he told you that you were pretty for the first time in your life. He always treated you like a person, like an equal, even when you were just a clingy child, vying for someone's attention when neglected by both of your parents because they had better things to do. But even now, now he recognises you again, he’s treated you like an equal, maybe even put you on a pedestal after you were extremely terse and treated him horribly. He still kissed you and cared for you and loved you-

SHIT.

You love Peter. Surely that must’ve been obvious for a long time, but now you’re finally admitting it. You really, genuinely, wholeheartedly love the little shit. Your stomach churns with nerves, and your mind tells you that you’re insane, but your heart… your heart has known all along, despite how much you fought it, and it’s now telling you to go along with it. You’re so… overcome with emotions that you don’t even know where to start or how to react or even try to begin to suss them out to deal with them so you do what feels like second nature the past few days, and you begin to cry, unable to choke it down any longer.

“Turn back happy,” you plead, “Shit! I said turn back now Goddammit!”

“I can’t, Sloane, you know I can’t, bosses orders.”

His words just hurt you more, if that was even possible, and pile something new onto the burning pile of emotions battling for territory within your exhausted brain.

“Happy, turn back right the fuck now, or I will scream until the glass breaks.”

When he does nothing, your sobs become harsher, and something in your throat snaps, forcing you to become hysterical. It’s something primal that takes over your body, a demon's force, because God knows you wouldn’t usually have this in you. You scream. It’s just a shrill sound to begin with, until your heaving chest and tears break through, and make it into a full hysterics game.

“HAPPY! TAKE ME HOME, TAKE ME TO PETER!” you screech, and you repeat the same words until you can’t breathe any longer, but even when your lungs fail you, your hands don’t.

You clip your seatbelt undone and begin punching the glass. It starts off just to be the dark tinted window separating you from happy and the wheel that would allow you to drive home, but even though the glass begins to wobble, it isn’t enough, so you move to the windows, your knuckles and palms coming in contact with the night shaded glass again and again until they’re rattling and even beginning to crack, but the second you feel you can, you release the most bestial, guttural scream that you can muster, and punctuate it with a rough shove to Happy’s chair.

You want to stop, but with all of the loss you’ve been through, you just need this one thing, this one person, this one place to feel complete, and none of it’s happening. It’s unspeakable, indescribable the way you feel, the turf war that’s occurring all over your body driving you insane.

“Just take me to Peter,” you finally beg after what seems like an eternity, collapsing completely into your seat, “I need him, Happy. I need Peter, please… please.”

You’re drained, dehydrated, hurt, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon. You’re driving away from the only happiness you’ve ever known to live in the arse end of nowhere with two people you hate, and so a void just takes over everything that previously embodied you, and you succumb to the emptiness, your last thought being of all the tears you’ve cried over one boy, the only one you’ve ever loved, and now you can’t even tell him that.

It was hard to grieve for someone, only for them to come back, the same way it was hard to grieve for someone who never gave a toss about you. That's what you’re finding so hard about all of this. But now, none of that matters, because he’s gone.

Two months later

The doorbell to the house rings for the third time today, driving you utterly up the wall. First it was the postie with some kind of oversized parcel for Morgan, then it was Happy, here again to help outside and be a ‘watchful eye’ while Pepper is out grocery shopping, apparently since they still don’t trust you rough to take decent care of your own sister.

“MORGAN!” You yell from your place at the back of the house, knowing that from her spot on the sofa in front of paw patrol or whatever shit she’s watching, she’ll hear, “Get the fucking door!”

“Mummy told you not to say bad words, Y/N.” She shouts back, and you can practically hear the signature Stark smirk in her words, although it should be far too early for her to actually be making that face.

That’s one thing they got right with Morgan, though, at least she calls you by your actual name instead of fucking Sloane, even if Pepper does ‘accidentally’ slip up and call you by that awful legacy name from time to time when you really annoy her, say by breaking a vase or some china, or screaming at her using all of the profanities you can think of. She’s really regretting taking you in, now, because you’re simply that much of a handful that she had Happy and Rhodey actually build a quiet room for some respite. You’re still in the rebellious phase, and you don’t seem to be leaving it any time soon, although you have let the dye in your hair grow out and you haven't bleached it… yet, and some of your piercings have naturally closed over, although that was more so that Morgan wouldn’t continually take a metal detector to your face.

Abrupt, your thoughts escape you, and you can’t catch the thread, because after multiple attempts of Morgan’s to click open the reinforced vibranium locks on the doors (Rhodey’s suggestion), and the shifting of a stool to allow her to climb to it, you hear a shriek and some mess of words that sound like ‘Peter’. But no, that's simply impossible. You’re imagining things in your annoyed state, knowing it would’ve been a lot faster and quieter if you just made your way over there yourself.

“It’s for you!”

Now this peaks your attention. No one has been to see you in the whole time you’ve been here, nor have you ever gotten mail. No one comes to see you, so maybe your ears didn’t deceive you.

You leap up from your seat and begin charging to the door, running as quickly and carefully as you can over Morgan's toys, but you’re also careful to not aggravate your injury. One good thing that came from your time there - the only good thing - is that you were able to work with your dad's remaining technology and do intensive physio, resulting in your mobility improving tenfold, also meaning that now you can not only walk but kind of run without assistance. But that doesn’t matter as soon as you see the man standing in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and an expression of pure delight on his puppy-like features.

“Y-you can walk?” he blubs, his cheeks red with joy.

The flowers fall from his hands onto the deck, and your eyes fill with tears as your hands fly up to your mouth, only just containing your sobs. Your whole being is overcome with happiness like you’ve never felt before, and it seems like all of your depression since you left him has melted away, and a new you is born.

“You came back for me…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and in response, he draws his lips into a tight line to contain his smile, and nods his head at you, soft brown curls falling into his soft eyes.

“Why are you sad, Y/N?” Morgan asks, and tugs at your shirt, but you don’t even realise, because the sight of Peter coming towards you is all that you can see and feel, and you begin advancing towards him too, until you collide in a heated kiss. Everything just seems like a tangle of limbs, a clash of teeth, and a battle of tongues. You’re too wrapped up in the feel of him, the passion of the moment, the intimacy of the kiss, that you don’t notice that Peter’s already got you picked up with your whole body tied around him. He tastes utterly delectable, the same as before, and his tongue feels incredible as it sweeps your mouth.

“Morgan-” you pant, “Go find Uncle Happy in the yard, now.” When she doesn’t move, you open your eyes to glare at her, stunned and traumatised into silence with her mouth slightly agape. You can’t bear detaching from Peter’s lips for even a second, so your words are all rushed. “Morgan get out now, I can see him there, in the yard, go!”

The little squirt smiles wryly up at you, but does as she’s told, and scurries off into the mass of flowers and perfectly cut grass. Seeing her gone, you let out a long held breath and smile into Peter’s passionate kiss. All of the love floods back to you, and you feel whole once again. But before you can get too caught up in the sappiness, Peter is already blindly stumbling through the house and kicking the front door closed behind him. Your fingers in his hair, you guide him to the couch.

As he kisses you so tenderly, even in the heated moment, you finally understand what everything was for. Every trial and tribulation in your life was teaching you, helping build you up for this very moment, where it all makes sense.

Everything in life has been for a reason, and that reason is this very moment. The thought makes you smile, but nowhere near as much as Peter’s own smile does.

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my-reality-my-rules · 3 years ago

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Hey friend, I also tried to tell my parents about shifting and they threatened to put me in the psych ward if I didn’t stop talking about it 🧍🏾.

But it’s okay because when I got a taste of shifting, it was worth the looks and threats.

not the psych ward-

no but this is actually very similar to what happened to me.

initially, i just wanted to see how they’d react. i tried letting them know through annoying and unsubtle clues. bits of gen z humour here and there that they wouldn’t understand, which i did exactly because they wouldn’t. eventually my sister caught on (but she doesn’t really know what it is) and thinks it’s a fun hobby thing i do. you’d have heard me saying things like, “I’m gonna shift tonight, R.I.P. this reality ayeee” or “Now reality can be whatever I want”. and honestly, things were quite funny at first because no one really knew what was going on, not even my brother (who’s usually updated on most things, but we’re not close, so). and me, being someone who likes causing chaos every now and then, enjoyed every bit of that confusion.

it only went to shit when my entire family found out about shifting. like . everyone. including extended family members. i don’t know how it spiralled but i mean—not that I’d expect anything less from a tight-knit family of blabbermouths but ffs-

literally one member’s business immediately becomes yours and another’s in this household and there is no privacy at all. so when one day my mom had enough of my shit and actually decided to look up what shifting was,,, well. you can guess what happened next. long story short, she confronted me about it and thought i was finally going mad. it’s gotten to the point where she actually even contacted one of her friends from school (who’s a psychologist) and considered getting me a session. i know they mean well, and considering I’ve had experiences like this before (back during gradeschool and middleschool), i know the concern is genuine. it can actually get serious. but things have gotten slightly out of hand.

the topic of shifting has become something foul in my household simply because of that. dealing with the situation itself tires me out because there’s a lot of expectations put on me. i haven’t shared this before, but here’s a little tidbit about my home life: being the eldest child and eldest grandchild is fucking exhausting. achievements feel forced and obligatory, and errors are met with either smugness or disgruntlement. it’s always about leading and setting examples.

it’s just so annoying when everyone else gets in on it. i understand that things can actually be fun if it had been a little friendly rivalry going on between cousins, but the extent that it reaches in my family?? haha...no. everyone thinks shifting is another internet-induced obsession that i have—which, okay, fair—but they’re treating me as if I’m about to break out and do rituals. they’re treating me as if I’m a fucking alien and it used to hurt but now it’s just so fucking iRritating-

the only other saving grace i can think of right now is the fact that my uncle (who’s also my godfather) is taking all this information in stride—and the best part is that he actually kind of understands. idk but i really vibe with this man, and it’s not just because of that easy acceptance. we also do share some similarities, as people, and i think it helped us bond. the resemblance between us is what really does it because i see myself in him and it becomes easier knowing there’s another person like me out there, even if our issues vary.

he’s actually really chill with shifting. i asked for his opinion on it, showed him some posts from amino and tiktok. he’s definitely intrigued, even if distant. I'm just happy there's someone else in this household that doesn't hold shifting against me.

#reality shifting #shifting realities #shifting #desired reality #shifter problems #rant post #Esther's shifting posts

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taexual · 5 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (2)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: sassy!jungkook vs sassy!MC, mentions of drunk driving

words: 5.2k

chapter two

The hospitals were usually glum and even off-putting and yet when you showed up to pay Jungkook an obligatory visit the next day after the party – because for reasons beyond you, you felt like you had to see him at least once to make sure he really was okay even though the paramedics that pulled him out of the totaled car had already told you he’d be fine – it felt like you were on set of a medical drama.

The entire hallway where Jungkook’s hospital room was located was full of people who weren’t there to visit but rather to make sure that the sole heir of JJ Holdings was not disturbed or, God forbid, photographed. The tabloids were already speculating what had to have happened to him to make him crash his car so close to his own house, and, frankly, there weren’t a lot of answers that made sense.

And yet, despite that, Jungkook’s family fought their hardest and denied every accusation, claiming that their beloved son, their youngest family member, could never drive under the influence and that it was, really, the horrible weather conditions to blame.

It had been a clear night – albeit a little windy – but you knew better than to get involved in this.

You had assumed that this situation had to have set Jungkook’s family on edge but then his mother enveloped you in a warm hug as soon as she saw you, so maybe not. You’d always liked her – it was Jungkook’s father that intimidated you – so you didn’t mind the fact that you hadn’t seen her since you went off to college three years ago.

“It’s so sweet of you to come,” she said kindly, but she seemed surprised to learn that you knew of her son’s accident.

It took you a while to understand why that was – as it turned out, in the wild chaos that erupted when Jungkook was brought to the hospital, no one bothered to ask who had called the ambulance. And it didn’t really matter anyway, you supposed. Maybe you shouldn’t have even come.

“It’s nothing,” you said with a polite smile. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s alright,” she said and, just like with Jungkook last night when you’d asked him how his mom was doing, her answer was automatic. He could have been in a grave condition and she’d have still smiled and said that her son was doing just fine.

His family was constantly playing a role for other people. Most of the time, they acted like they walked on paths covered entirely in rose petals, and that nothing could ever inconvenience them.

It was painful to see that she felt the need to keep the act around you too, but, then again, your mother was now the only one that was still in touch with Jungkook’s family, so that made you an outsider.

“Can I see him?” you asked, starting to feel more awkward by the second. “I brought some comfort food. Even though I don’t know if he even likes this anymore—”

“He’ll really appreciate it,” his mother cut you off and, maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part, but it sounded like she meant it. “His dad is there with him right now but it’s been a while, so you can probably go in there, too. Maybe they both fell asleep.”

You doubted that very much – the Jungkook you used to know never lowered his guard around his father, at least not enough to fall asleep in his presence – but you swallowed whatever objections you may have had and simply nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” you said and walked past her towards Jungkook’s hospital room.

You had to round a corner to reach it and, as soon as you did, you felt yourself exhale in relief. You’d forgotten what it was like to be around Jungkook’s family. Constantly participating in their game of we-are-a-perfect-family-please-oh-please-believe-us was exhausting.

You were about to knock on the door, the chocolates you’d brought for Jungkook clutched tightly in your hand – you felt stupid to have brought them now because, really, what were the odds that he still liked the same candy as he did when he was 12? – when you heard talking inside and stopped short.

Clearly, Jungkook and his father were very much awake and, by the sound of it, currently in the middle of a very heated discussion (because the Jeon family never argued, they just talked louder than usual sometimes).

“I’m tired,” his father was saying. You debated if you should walk away or just wait it out in case their exchange was coming to an end. “I’m sick of this, you hear me? How many times have you tried to sabotage everything we’ve worked for? How many times—”

Inhaling sharply, you pulled away from the door and leaned against the opposite wall instead. You hoped you couldn’t hear them from over there but, unfortunately – or, perhaps, luckily – you still could. And, before you even considered returning to Jungkook’s mother to wait with her, you were already too curious to move.

Yes, you were the cat, and you knew you were about to get killed. But, oh, the satisfaction!

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said quietly inside of the hospital room and you could almost see the shame all over his face. He had never lived up to his father’s expectations but this seemed to be the last straw.

“Listen to what I say because I am not going to repeat myself,” his father said as a nurse walked past you and you had to pull your phone out to pretend that you weren’t being nosy. “You can forget all about the company – hell, you can forget all about your own future if you keep going like this.”

“Dad—”

“You’re still so young but it’s like you’re purposefully looking for a tragic end of your life,” Jungkook’s father continued, not letting his son interject, “you’ve been acting like a completely brainless idiot ever since you started high school and, you know what, now it’s time you stopped. You’re in college now and I’m done watching you destroy yourself and our legacy.”

“I’m an adult,” Jungkook said, sounding very much like a child, “you can’t tell me how to live my life.”

His father laughed and you could have shivered if you weren’t so busy pretending not to be listening as nurses and doctors coursed back and forth in the hallway.

“You’re also my son,” he said then and it would have been a very nice gesture if he stopped there. But he didn’t. “And the heir to our family’s company. What you do is a reflection of us, and your latest stunt will certainly paint us in the most beautiful colors. So, you can think you’re the only one responsible for your life all you want, but the truth is, you’ll always be tied to the rest of us.”

“Right,” Jungkook lost the previous restraints he had, “so, what? Will you have me drop out of college so you can supervise my every move, starting now?”

“Absolutely not,” his father replied. “You went to university to learn how to run a business, to gain leadership skills, to learn how to be a proper grown-up. You might be an heir, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get to sit back and relax while money falls from the trees around you.”

“I know that,” Jungkook said and you knew he meant it. His parents had taught him to work hard since day one – surely not a lot of toddlers learned how to read even before they stopped using the potty.

“You don’t know anything. Don’t embarrass me by saying you do,” his father countered. “You haven’t put any actual work towards your future. You’ve got that band of yours, which is all good, there’s nothing wrong with having a hobby—”

“It’s not—”

“—but if that’s the reason why you’re in this situation right now,” his father continued, not even hearing Jungkook object, “then maybe it’d be better if you focused on your studies instead. Otherwise, I don’t see the point why you should join the company this summer.”

It was quiet for a while after that and you thought they finished talking. You even put your phone away, ready to head down the hallway and act like you just got here, but then Jungkook spoke up again.

“The things that I do in college,” he said slowly, “will not interfere with my job at the company.”

“You can forget that job – and any other job, actually – if you don’t pull yourself together,” his father said.

“Well, what should I do, then?” Jungkook asked. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I don’t need to pull anything together because I’m fine? It’s just that you--”

“Admitting that you’re not fine would be the first step.”

“I-I’m serious,” he said, sounding a little more discouraged now. “What should I do?”

“Well, you’re an adult,” his father said, using his own words against him. “Why don’t you figure that out yourself?”

The room fell silent again and, a few moments later, you heard footsteps approaching the door of Jungkook’s hospital room. Jumping away from the wall, you jogged down the opposite hallway and only turned around when you heard the door open. But Jungkook’s father left the room and walked away without bothering to even glance your way.

When he disappeared behind the corner, you stopped behind Jungkook’s open door, not daring to enter just yet. You felt even less confident about being here now that you’d overheard his conversation with his father but you only had yourself to blame for that – you could have walked away as soon as you realized they were still talking.

The saying should have mentioned that curiosity may not have necessarily killed the cat, but it certainly made it feel very uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself and gave the door of his room a gentle knock before poking your head inside. Jungkook was laying down, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but he lifted himself up on his elbows when he saw you.

“Wow,” he said and a smile crept up to his bruised face, “you’re the last person I expected to see here.”

If you hadn’t just witnessed the fiery scolding he’d received from his father, you would have never been able to tell that something happened. Acting must have been in his blood as he continued to smile while you entered the room and closed the door.

You had to admit, he looked much better today – excluding the saline drip next to his bed, the fresh stitches on his forehead, and the several cuts and bruises scattered all over his face, of course – but that had to be due to the fact that his face was no longer stained with fresh blood.

“I felt like I had to come since I was the one who called the ambulance and then refused to ride with you to the hospital,” you explained yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook said, teasing. “I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you’d expected this reaction, “it was already awkward enough to talk to you after so long, I didn’t think we were close enough for a ride in the ambulance together.”

“But we’re close enough for you to visit me in the hospital?”

“Like I said, I felt bad.”

“You should,” he said with ease. “I could have died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Your injuries weren’t that bad. The car took the brunt of it.”

“How do you know that?”

You asked the paramedics, that’s how – although, that was a massive understatement. What you really did was cry and beg them to tell you if Jungkook was alive – you even pulled on the sleeves of their jackets like a child, demanding attention – but you’d never admit it out loud.

In your defense, Jungkook’s entire face was bloody when the paramedics pulled him out of the car �� courtesy of the nasty cut on the upper corner of his forehead that the doctors have stitched up now – and he was unconscious so, really, your reaction was completely rational, all things considered.

“I asked before they took you away, of course,” you responded simply. “I’m not heartless.”

“Well, that’s good to know, then,” he said. “And, for what it’s worth, I would have definitely taken the ambulance with you if our situations were reversed.”

“It’s not worth anything because there’s no way our situations would ever be reversed. I’m smart enough not to drive when I’m drunk,” you said and he was the one to roll his eyes this time, “and, anyway, you had your members in the ambulance with you. It would have been suffocating with me there, too.”

He didn’t respond but kept his eyes on you and the same awkwardness you’d felt in the hallway outside of his hospital room returned.

You couldn’t seem to find a place to settle in – there was only one chair in the room and it had his jacket laying across it; you didn’t dare move it – so you stood still, switching your weight between one leg to the next, while his eyes burned into you.

“I… I brought you something,” you finally managed to say – mostly because the chocolates in your hands were now in danger of melting due to how hard your palms were sweating. “It’s not—”

You had extended your hand to put the candy on the cupboard next to his bed and, as soon as he noticed them, he didn’t even wait for you to finish.

“You remembered!” his cry reminded you of the nine-year-old Jungkook who’d stuff his face with these chocolates until he couldn’t even breathe anymore. You stopped and turned to look at him in surprise. “Oh, man, I haven’t had these in so long. Where did you even find them?”

“I know a store,” you said with a soft smile. You put the candy down and took a step back, feeling even more out of place now that your hands were empty. “I—”

“Well, sit, have one,” he encouraged, leaning out of bed to pick his jacket up from the chair, and tossing it on the floor instead. The catheter in his hand must have strained his skin as he did that but Jungkook didn’t let it show. “Mind you, I said one. I’m selfishly saving the rest of them for myself because I am barely getting fed here.”

You chuckled. “That’s okay, you can have all of them. Is the hospital food really that bad?”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” he groaned, unwrapping the candy and putting it in his mouth while you sat down on the now empty chair.

He closed his eyes as soon as the chocolate touched his tongue, leaning back and sighing blissfully – but just loudly enough so you’d know how much he had missed the taste – in a way that made you look down and swallow heavily, your nails digging into the soft material of the chair.

“This is heaven,” he spoke up after a moment and you didn’t dare to tell him that it wasn’t the candy that was heavenly but rather the sight of him enjoying it so much. “It completely makes up for you abandoning me when I was dying.”

You groaned but Jungkook saw the small smile that managed to make its way to your lips. “You weren’t dying. Why are you being so dramatic?”

“Because I need pity,” he confessed, making it all sound like a joke even though you had a feeling there was more than just a pinch of truth in his words. “None of my friends came to see me. Looks like I really fucked up this time, huh?”

That surprised you. “What do you mean? They went with you when they took you to the hospital.”

“No, I don’t mean my members,” he shook his head, “they were here this morning but I made them go home and clean. I meant my other friends.”

“Oh,” you looked down, unsure if you were in any position to comfort him. “Maybe they’re busy?”

“Please,” he scoffed, unwrapping another chocolate, “it’s Saturday. They may be hungover but they’re definitely not busy.”

“Well, in that case,” you said, “maybe they’re not really your friends.”

“Yeah, I came to that conclusion, too,” he said, toying with the candy instead of putting it in his mouth. Bits of chocolate stuck to his warm fingertips and he licked them off before turning to look at you only to catch you watching him. You looked away when your eyes met, though, so you didn’t get to see the pleased grin that appeared on his face. “So, what are you up to? I thought your schedule was full until graduation?”

You smiled, recalling your words at his party.

“Your drunk-driving incident made me push some things around,” you played along, not missing the chance to scold him. Jungkook just rolled his eyes and popped the chocolate into his mouth. “So, you should consider yourself special.”

“I definitely do,” he said, putting the wrappers down on the cupboard next to his bed. “It’s weird to see you like this. I don’t mean here, but just… not in a hurry, you know? I thought you had classes every day of the week, weekends included.”

You had no idea he ever gave your schedule any thought – and hearing that he did made your stomach twist in ways you’d rather it didn’t – so you weren’t prepared for this. Taking your silence as uncomfortable, Jungkook tried to ease into the conversation differently.

“Are you still thinking of owning your own business?” he asked.

He remembered that and suddenly it was like your stomach had decided to tear itself into two.

“Sure,” you said with an awkward chuckle. “It’s definitely still one of the few things I’d like to do after graduation.”

“Good,” Jungkook said simply and, thus, reminded you of how long it’s been since you had last talked. Usually, whenever the topic would turn to you, wanting to own a business of your own, he’d always say, ‘you’re so bossy, so it would suit you.’ Now, however, he added a very considerate, “I know you’ll get to do it. You’re the kind of person that makes her dreams come true.”

Lowering your eyes – because you’d found that praise was hard to accept when it came from someone you were close to but it was even harder when it came from someone whom you used to be close to – you mumbled, “thanks.”

“It’s just the truth,” Jungkook replied with a shrug of his shoulders – it was an attempt to make you feel less awkward. He could see the way your whole body tensed up as soon as he mentioned how weird it was to see you.

“So, what about you?” you asked, turning the spotlight away from yourself. “Do you still want to be a worldwide famous superstar?”

He laughed, his childhood dream sounding ridiculous now. “No. I’m fine where I am right now.”

You smiled but your mind returned to the conversation you’d overheard before you came here.

Slowly, so as not to pour salt on an undoubtedly fresh wound, you asked, “what about the, uh, family company?”

Jungkook sighed. Not because he was angry at you for asking this question, but rather because it was a very natural question to ask, so – naturally – everyone around him always brought it up.

“What about it?” he asked you.

“Well, it’s a family business,” you shrugged, not wanting to put any extra pressure on him. “Your parents were always sort of prepping you for it.”

“Yeah,” he wasn’t looking at you anymore as his eyes settled on the corner of his hospital room. “They’re changing their minds about that.”

Feeling like you were committing a crime by sitting here and acting like you hadn’t just heard him talk to his dad about this, you proceeded nevertheless.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean… well, my mom definitely wants me to take over the business one day,” he said and, just like you remembered, his voice softened when he spoke about her, “she’s constantly talking about how proud of me she is – but you know my mom,” he paused to give you a knowing look and waited until you nodded before he continued, “she always had a lot of love to give so she wanted to have a lot of kids and, after that didn’t work out, she focused all of her love on me.”

“Yes, go ahead and blame your mother as the reason why you’re spoiled,” you teased.

“It’s the truth!” he insisted with an unexpected smile. “Anyway, she always wanted me to work in the company and—”

“What about you?” you cut him off.

Already lost in whatever he was going to say to you, Jungkook didn’t catch your question. “Hmm?”

“What do you want?” you asked again.

“I…” he considered this for a moment, not quite used to being asked about his own wishes when he lived in a family that essentially decided everything for him, “I guess I just don’t want to let her down,” he said finally. “My dad, however… he—well, let’s just say he doesn’t really think I’d make a suitable employee, let alone a CEO.”

Unable to resist it, you bit, “hmm, I wonder what could have lead him to feel that way.”

“I know, I know, there’s no need to sound so condescending,” he rolled his eyes – in that same bratty way that you remembered; no one could ever tell this boy anything without him getting offended – and then sighed. “I haven’t been the ideal son.”

It was hard not to allow your memories to overwhelm you – because of how many times you’d been in this same position before: finding Jungkook cooped away somewhere after an argument with his father and trying to cheer him up with his favorite chocolates – but you tried to focus on the present.

“I’m sure you’re trying your best,” you ended up telling him because that was something you were supposed to tell someone who was having a hard time.

Jungkook chuckled at the optimistic statement.

“Not really,” he said then, “I’m not trying at all. I’ve just been doing whatever I want to do and, I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t really thinking of the consequences. Or, rather, I didn’t care about them because—well, because I was satisfied with my life,” he continued to talk and you were starting to feel your pulse in your throat because it’s been seven years – seven fucking years – since you’ve heard him confess something so personal and it was almost suffocating, “but then my dad—oh, you should have heard him today. It was one of the more severe variations of the Jeon Concerto in A Major.”

The comparison got you to smile despite the seriousness of the conversation. “It was that bad?”

“Worse,” Jungkook assured you. “He kept going at it for hours. Actually, he left, like, two minutes before you came in, so my head is still sort of pounding.”

You knew that, of course, but you didn’t say so.

“Are you sure it’s not from the hangover?” you asked instead.

He took the jab with dignity, smiling as he nodded, “that, too.”

Gathering his thoughts for a moment – as he played with the frayed edges of the hospital blanket – Jungkook stayed silent and, when he started to speak again, his voice made it clear how desperately he was trying to make light of a situation that had clearly wounded him much more than the accident last night had.

“My dad, uh—he told me to suck it up and get my shit together,” he said. “And that’s almost a direct quote, by the way. I think he’s been holding it in for a while now and today he just exploded.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t given him reasons to yell at you before,” you said.

“Oh, no I’ve given him plenty of reasons,” Jungkook said, “you know he’s not one to refuse a good yell. I just didn’t give him any opportunities,” he stopped and, just when you began to frown in confusion, he explained himself, “I… I moved out of my parents’ house in my junior year of high school and I’ve only been home a handful of times since then.”

It hurt to hear that for some reason. You hadn’t heard much about him ever since he stopped talking to you in the ninth grade but you figured that was just your mom filtering out any information about Jungkook that she learned from his mom. You had no idea that it was really because Jungkook was deliberately distancing himself from his whole family, not just from you.

It hurt because you were once best friends and then you went seven years without speaking to one another only to end up talking again in a hospital room.

It hurt because of how easily the two of you returned to your natural rhythm, how simply you recognized each other’s facial expressions, how normal this felt.

“What about your mom?” you asked in a croaked voice. Your throat was closing up and there was no concealing that. “Doesn’t she miss you?”

If Jungkook noticed the ball in your throat, he didn’t make it known.

“She probably does but she’s never said anything. I think she understands that I had no other choice,” he said instead. “I’d have gone insane in that house with my dad. You know we never spoke the same language.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “but maybe it’s because neither one of you ever tried to understand the other.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, laying back down on the bed and shuffling around under the blanket until he got comfortable, “probably.”

“That’s a good place to start, isn’t it?” you said, your tone far too hopeful and optimistic – all because you were trying to refrain from getting emotional. “To get your life together, I mean.”

“What?” he turned his head on the pillow so he could face you. You looked down immediately. “You mean, listen to my dad and obey him blindly?”

“No—well, not necessarily. Just… talk to your parents more,” you shrugged, “find a way to communicate with them both and let them know what’s going on in your life. I think you really hurt them by disappearing on them like that and then resurfacing again in the hospital.”

You lied. You didn’t think. You were sure. Because he didn’t just hurt them, he hurt you, too.

Your first conversation in seven years ended with him drunkenly crashing his car into a tree trunk – or was it a lamp post that he didn’t notice? – and now you had to clutch the seat of the chair you were sitting on with all of your might so you wouldn’t start crying. You couldn’t even understand why your eyes were getting watery but they were and you really needed him to look away.

“Hmm, I—I didn’t really think of it like that,” Jungkook admitted and – mercifully – looked back up at the ceiling.

Sniffling as quietly as you could, you added another teasing dig, “maybe also consider drinking less.”

“Yeah, no, funnily enough, I figured I’d have to do that myself,” he replied and you snickered, only daring to look up again when you were sure your tears, that had rushed to the surface, finally receded.

“Good to know you do have a functioning brain despite making it seem like you didn’t last night,” you told him – because you had to – and he glared at you instead of replying, but he did hear what you were saying. He understood.

You wanted to properly lecture him about his reckless behavior but right now you weren’t in the best position to explain your aggressive need for him to start thinking before he acted – and, technically, you had no reason to care about him that much, anyway – so, you took a deep breath, blinked several times to make sure you really weren’t going to start crying, and then started to speak.

“I hope that… uh, no matter what you decide to do and however you choose to handle this thing with your parents,” you swallowed and the words were unexpectedly hard to say, “I hope that you don’t get behind the wheel of a car while drunk again.”

Jungkook looked at you for a long time before speaking and you lost yourself in his eyes like you had done countless of times before. And how could you not when you were faced with his already legendary gaze; the one that controlled entire crowds at Parental Advisory gigs?

You couldn’t see your reflection so you didn’t know, but Jungkook had noticed the redness of your eyes. He noticed the slight puffiness that appeared on your cheeks. He’s seen you cry before, he knew all the signs.

But he was also aware of the gap in your friendship and the tightrope that the two of you were walking over it – he didn’t dare to bring your crying up and risk throwing both of you down into the pit of not-talking again.

“I won’t,” he said instead, his voice gentle. “I promise.”

As he said this, you realized that, perhaps the reason why you felt like crying was because you knew that the second you’d walk out of his hospital room, the two of you would go back to your seven-year-long silence.

Even though you’d had no problems reconnecting today, it was just one day. It would end tomorrow and, eventually, the connection that you’d had and the friendship that you’d developed as kids, would turn into a distant memory. You’d return to your world and he’d return to his and, even though you both lived on the same campus, you might as well have lived on two different planets.

But, even though that hurt, perhaps it was for the best. It was painfully pointless to carry hopes of a restored friendship when it was almost doomed to end eventually. He’d stopped talking to you once, he could do it once more.

So, you wanted to cry now and then put this weekend-from-hell behind you, so you wouldn’t have to cry later, after losing Jungkook again.

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