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salsdemise · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

#sally face #sal fisher #sally face x reader #sally face game #sal fisher x y/n #gn!reader

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nxtsnw · 3 years ago

Note

P1: Please could it be a mikey oneshot leaving a male reader; I leave it days before the dissolution of Touman with the excuse of "I like another person more, I don't love you anymore and I don't want to see you again" it may be that I don't want to hurt him or something like that, in the end ReaderMale! he takes it badly at first but over time he recovers and becomes a famous Idol that is everywhere, not only is an Idol but has a presence in the underworld (something +

°Mikey x Male reader°

plot: After the breakup between Mikey and MaleReader, their two paths split. The reader, after an unexpected glow-up and after both have apparently moved on, meet again, Mickey as the leader of the Bonten and the reader as a very famous idol.

author note: I also read the pt.2! I apologize if I changed it slightly, I did everything possible to respect it. Thank you for the request!

word count: 1k

warning: angst, break up

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The weather that day was so hot, but it wasn't a pleasant heat, it was quite the opposite. Y/n was going to meet Mikey, his boyfriend for a year now. He noticed his bright blonde hair from afar so he decided to run up to him and hug him from behind.

"Heyy Mikey" he yelled.

"mh" he replied looking at him from top to bottom.

"What happens?"

"I leave you," he said with that a weird calm and his eyes staring at him and waiting for a reaction.

"Ahaha this is funny" answered y/n.

"I'm not kidding, it's over between us, I'm no longer in love with you. I'm sorry, but it's time for me to open a new chapter in my life."

A slight shiver ran down the y/n back.

"Wait, did I do something wrong?"

"No, I already told you, I'm not in love with you anymore."

How was it possible? Why should he leave him like this?.

He could still feel the blond's gaze on him and didn't dare to raise his head. He took a deep breath and mentally slapped himself.

"Goodbye then." he continued without expressing any kind of emotion.

"Goodbye."

So that completely unexpected conversation ended. And for y/n began one of the hardest times ever. Even just to realize what had happened took him several weeks(maybe months), which were lived in a very bad way by the boy.

Acceptance was a hard thing and just as he was returning to the bad habit of smoking he was stopped by a strange man.

“Wait for a second please, don't quit smoking that cigarette. And please, let me take some pictures of you. "

Surprised and scared, the boy decided to walk away.

"Wait up! Believe me, I'm (his name and his surname), a famous photographer ”he continued showing him a tag that confirmed his previous words.

"Please, just a photo?" and so the boy agreed.

So the photo was taken and the photographer came over to show it to him.

At first glance, not even the same y/n could be recognized, he seemed so different from the last time he had seriously looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't see himself in that photo he had just taken.

"When I became like that?..." he spoke aloud when he was still deep in his thoughts. So much so that the photographer looked at him with a bewildered face.

“Don't like the photo? I'm sorry. Did I make you feel uncomfortable?" The boy shook his head no.

“Oh thank god, I also wanted to ask if you would give me permission to publish this photo on my new photo album due out next month,” he asked, clasping his hands. After he noticed the boy's troubled expression, he continued saying: "You can also receive money and be contacted later by different modeling agencies, I think you have this potential."

A job and some money would not have been bad .. the young man accepted and the two traded their phone number.

But before he could think of anything else, he remembered his change in physical appearance. He immediately went home to look in the mirror. In the street, while he ran, he saw himself in a shop window, he noticed the changes in the body.

They weren't that obvious, but to him, it felt so different, developed. The more he looked at himself the more he was convinced of how much prettier he had become.

Self-conviction? Had he had the famous post-breakup glow-up without realizing it? Was it possible? Was there any entity unknown to him involved?

Arriving at random he noticed even the smallest details of his face, had he always been this attractive?

Thanks to that funny meeting were the beginning of a new life for the boy.

After the photographer's album began to be printed, he noticed his inbox filled with inquiries from various fashion agencies.

They just asked him for a meeting to see if they could hire him, and reading the pay he didn't think twice about accepting.

He came from the first agency that contacted him, and after a short interview, he was hired. It was all happening so fast, the long time after parting with Mikey seemed to have almost vanished from the boy's mind.

In no time at all, he began to have great success in many magazines, and his fandom began to grow. Real people stopped him on the street to ask him for a photo and how beautiful he was. The agencies organized real meetings for the boy's fans.

He met some of his old school friends (with whom he had had some bullying problems) who didn't recognize him in the least...

Everyone had begun to love and idolize him. The creepy and weird thing is that it all happened within 6 months, all that fast? How was that possible? Often y/n stopped to wonder how it was possible, and always tried to find out how it could have happened, but he never found anything rational. ( I'm so sorry, I have never read "lookism" yet, I tried my best to find information <3)

And so winter had arrived, the cold now surrounded him.

He had just finished his shift at the agency and had decided to go get a hot chocolate in his trusted bar. As soon as he entered he noticed a new boy, he was tall with green eyes and dark hair he was really cute.

The boy had been working in that bar for a short time, and it was he who served him. Along with his hot chocolate, he gave to him a note with his phone number, hoping that y/n would contact him.

So that's what he did, he had finally overcome the breakup with Mikey, he was finally ready to start a new life, and finally sentimentally too.

Months and years go by. The relationship between the two boys seems to have improved and thanks to his work he becomes more and more famous. A real Idol, with a little secret, he hadn't yet explained the change that had radically changed his life.

Did some divinity have anything to do with it?

Because of his job he had not been allowed to have a boyfriend, so he had invented and hired him as a "personal bodyguard", so he was able to find an excuse to spend more time with his boyfriend.

They were walking arm in arm under light snow when he saw what he never wanted to see.

There was Mikey. That Mikey. He was sitting on a bench and always kept his lost gaze on some buildings. Was he there on purpose or for simple deals?

He had a hard time recognizing him, Mikey had cut his hair even though he still had that different sheen, but it looked just fine. He was thin and pale in the face, but the most noticeable thing was two dark circles under his eyes that made him look more tired and almost sick.

After a while, Mikey turned to his side.

"Look, let's go if we change our way," he asked his boyfriend.

"Um okay, but what's going on?"

"Nothing, don't worry..." but at that moment he realized that he could no longer escape. He had long since overcome that breakup.

"We can continue from here too," he continued, smiling and taking his boyfriend by the hand.

Meanwhile, a tall pink-haired boy had caught up with Mikey and they were heading in the direction of y/n.

He seemed to be going smoothly until the two ex-boyfriends stopped at the same time.

"Hi Mikey"

No reply.

"Now pretend you don't even know me eh"

Mikey looked up, but this time, in addition to the usual air of defiance, he looked seriously surprised, almost scared?

"Hi y/n, how long has it been?"

But who could know him better than y/n? They had been together for a year, by now he knew that expression perfectly. He knew that at that moment Mikey was confused but he didn't want to show it.

How were they supposed to react?

That question was creeping into both of them, but neither of them seemed able to react.

Did he get over it? What had happened all that time? And who were the new respective partners?

For these questions it will still take some time to get answers and who knows if they will ever have them ;)

I hope you'll like it<3

#mickey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #male reader #tokyorev #tokyorevengers x reader #oneshot

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farmhandler · 4 years ago

Text

My Everything

Rated: T

Pairing: Shifty/Richie from “Rockababy”

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Shifty wants to know why Richie likes taking photos of him so much, and he gets his answer--and much more.

A/N: So this comic by the amazing human being @c2ndy2c1d is just really special. And then I wrote a fic because somebody had to, so please read the comic!! I was so charmed by all the characters, and I cannot resist this kind of nerd/jock/coolkid dynamic so here we are. I got permission to write this, so I hope I don’t butcher their characterizations! I tried to keep my interpretations as true to the comic as I could. Enjoy <3

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“How long do I gotta sit like this?”

“Just a minute!” Richie says. It’s the same thing he said ten minutes ago, and then five minutes before that. He adjusts his camera lens and then poses again, taking another several photos for god knows what reason. “Just don’t move. I need to get the right shot…”

Shifty doesn’t move as promised, but his tail gives the table beside him a solid thwap to show Richie just how thin his patience is starting to run.

“Why do you want these photos anyway? You’ve taken like—thousands already, I swear.”

“This is the first time I’ve gotten photos with your tail entirely intact.” He snaps another photo. Shifty lets out an explosive sigh and turns his head to give his neck a break. He’s lying on his stomach, ass up in the air, posed to give Richie ‘every valuable angle’ to get all the photos he needs for his research.

Research, research. It’s always about that damn research of his. He’s always makin’ Shifty turn this way and that, exposing every part of himself to Richie’s camera. Shifty can feel his face starting to turn pink, and without a doubt he knows the rest of his skin is sure to follow soon. It’s easier when he’s a human and there’s only so many places that can turn colors.

“I was hoping I could find a remedy to make your tail grow back faster,” Richie says forlornly, lowering his camera. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“Hey, you’re doing great,” Shifty says. He sits up, ignoring the look on Richie’s face and lifts one leg to his chest to give his arm something to lean on. “You helped make that medicine that took my pain away. That was pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees reluctantly, staring down at his camera as if a medical marvel isn’t comparable to fixing Shifty’s tail—which was gonna grow back anyway. “But I wanted to figure this one out. I was so close…”

Shifty shrugs. “You’ve got time. Why worry about one little thing?”

“It’s not little,” Richie says, looking up at him. Even through his huge, nerdy glasses, his eyes burn with a passion that always leaves Shifty feeling strangely breathless. “I want to help you, any way I can.”

“So you’ve said,” Shifty says, off-hand, like his body isn’t changing colors. Richie’s gaze doesn’t shift, and Shifty keeps his eyes down at his feet, ‘cause otherwise he’ll never get the color to go away. “Why do you care so much about taking photos of me anyway? I mean—” While Richie stares at him, Shifty wrestles with his words, suddenly finding it hard to articulate something that’s been running through his mind since this whole thing with Richie started.

“What is it?”

“You’re always taking all these pictures because you think the way I look is—”

“—fascinating,” Richie finishes for him.

“Uh huh. Right, fascinating.” Shifty looks around for the pack of smokes Richie keeps for him and finds it on the shelf behind him. He lights it, once again ignoring Richie’s sharp look. No smoking inside, he’s always saying, but Shifty’s been dying for one for hours, and the rooms got great ventilation. “But let’s be real for a minute—don’t you prefer it when I look human?”

It’s not insecurity that makes Shifty ask the question. Well, not completely. Sure, he sometimes feels insecure about being so different from everyone, but he doesn’t wish he was a human. Hell no—they’re fragile as hell.

Richie blinks at him. “Why would I want that?”

“Well—” Shifty pauses; stares down at his hand and starts the shift, lifting human fingers for Richie to see. “I don’t know, don’t you like it more? I look like you.”

“But you’re not like me,” Richie points out. Shifty shifts uncomfortably, weighing Richie’s words. The way he says it—it shouldn’t hurt, but it unexpectedly does.

Something in Shifty’s face must give him away, because in the next moment, Richie steps forward, his eyes wide. “And that’s a good thing! You’re not like me, you’re like you. And sure, the Shifty I knew at school and around town is a handsome guy, but I also really like the real you.” At Shifty’s continued silence, he continues. “Would you prefer it if I looked like you?”

“Well, no,” Shifty admits. “You’re a human.”

“Exactly. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Richie walks up to him, even closer now, those damn chocolate brown eyes boring into Shifty and makin’ him turn fucking pink. He can feel it happening because it always does around this guy; he’s the only one that can do this to him as often as he does, and the nerd has the gall to act like he has no idea what he’s doing.

He lifts his hands and cups the sides of Shifty’s face, the warmth of his hands seeping into his skin. The way Richie is looking at him—it’s more observational. Maybe he’d even describe it as clinical. Almost like business as usual, with Richie ignoring his personal space and putting his warm hands all over Shifty, only this time, with the topic of their conversation at hand, Shifty can’t take another second of this one-sided embarrassment.

He shifts, his body morphing and skin swirling until he’s almost entirely human. By the time he’s got his human face on, Richie has realized exactly what kind of position they’re really in. With his eyes still stuck on his, Shifty feels a vicious sense of satisfaction when Richie’s cheeks start to color.

“I—you—”

Shifty lifts his hand up over the back of Richie’s hand—the one that’s still hovering by his face uncertainly. “What was that you were saying about me being handsome?”

Richie’s glasses slip down his nose. He flicks his eyes down, and then the color in his cheeks darkens.

Do I have something on my face? Shifty wonders.

“You’re naked,” Richie squeaks. His hands snap to his face so fast that he basically slaps himself and ends up stumbling back, still trying to cover his eyes from Shifty’s naked form.

Huh, he thinks, looking down at himself. Forgot I was wearing real clothes before.

“Come on, sci-fi, it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before. I’m naked all the time, in a way.”

“Yeah, but—” Richie turns and peeks out from between his fingers, then whips around again. “That’s different! You’re usually wearing clothes why aren’t you wearing clothes now.”

“They’re usually such a pain that I always morph ‘em, but today I decided, why not try wearing some?” He scratches his chin. “Then I forgot about ‘em.”

Seeing Richie so flustered by his human self when he doesn’t seem to give a damn about a naked alien makes him feel…annoyed isn’t the right world.

“Hey,” Shifty says, stalking up to Richie with his cigarette still in hand. He takes a drag and slides up behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist. Richie jolts with a gasp; Shifty does what he does best and shifts, letting Richie feel the way his body changes, morphing back into his alien self. “You don’t think this part of me is handsome?”

“I’m not answering that question,” Richie says. His ears are red. Shifty feels the oddest urge to bite them.

“Oh, so human me is hot, but not real me.”

“I’m not—you’re not—that’s not what I’m saying!” Richie turns around, fixes his warm eyes on Shifty, and points an accusatory finger at him. “I have to remain impartial. It’s bad enough that you’re all around me at home, being…the way you are—”

Shifty takes a drag. “The way I am?”

“Like that! Just like that. Handsome, cool, mysterious,” Richie starts ticking things off his fingers, to Shifty’s disbelief. “I mean, does smoking even do anything to you? What do your lungs look like?”

“I thought you hated all that stuff?” Shifty asks, ignoring the question.

“Well—” Richie’s flush still hasn’t dissipated. He takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them. “Even I can acknowledge that from an objective standpoint, you’re attractive.”

“You think I’m hot?” Shifty says, meaning it as a tease, but it comes out like a genuine question. Richie looks up at him, all intense as usual, and something in his face shifts.

“Yes,” he admits, face flushed and looking a little shaky on his feet. But his eyes—there’s that glitter; the glamor of intrigue that he always directs at Shifty and anything worth a dime in his mind. “I do.”

Shifty goes to take another drag of his cigarette—he isn’t sure what to say—but his damn hand is shaking and he’s reached the butt end, so he lets his hand fall and stares up at the ceiling instead. “Huh,” he says. “Well, uhm, thanks.”

Richie doesn’t reply; instead, he walks up to Shifty and takes the cigarette butt from his hand and tosses it in the nearby trashcan. He has to reach over to di it, and their fingers brush; it feels electric. Shifty inhales, his heart pounding, and chances a look at Richie.

He’s now staring at him with such an intense look that Shifty wants to laugh. But man—those eyes. Shifty would never say it out loud, but he loves the color of Richie’s eyes. He likes the way he looks at him when he’s taking photos, or when he’s sleepy, or when he’s found something new and exciting to fixate on.

Richie’s hand slides over his. He leans forward, and Shifty leans back on instinct, bracing himself against the desk behind him. He’s so close that Shifty can practically smell the aftershave he uses, even though he’s barely grown a single hair on his chin—

“Richard, dinner’s almost ready!” Richard’s mom calls from the landing leading to Richie’s mini laboratory set up in their basement, cutting straight through the tension and demolishing it.

They separate lightning fast. Shifty morphs into a human (with clothes) on instinct, and Richie’s looking down at the table, his face red.

“Richie? Carrot?” She’ll cycle through all the petnames she can think of if he doesn’t answer soon. “You down there?”

“I’m here!” Richie calls. He glances at Shifty, face full of an unnamed emotion. “I’ll be up soon!”

Once her footsteps fade, he sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. Without his glasses on his face, and with his hair slicked back— Shifty wishes he had something to put in his mouth, keep him from saying something he might regret.

“We had better get up there,” he says lamely, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Before the food gets cold.”

“Yeah, we should…do that.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts, reluctant to leave this space. Richie’s mom never comes down there, so it’s practically theirs: the two of them. Shifty is still thinking about Richie’s hand on top of his. Humans run so hot, and Richie’s like a furnace running in the high heat of summer.

Goddamn it, he thinks, grinding his teeth. He feels unexpectedly angry, for reasons he can’t explain.

He turns and starts walking towards the stairs, and that’s when he feels Richie take hold of his arm.

“Wait!” Richie cries, stopping him short. “Shifty, wait.”

“What is it, Richie?” he says, without turning. “I’ve got my eyes on your mom’s monthly meatloaf—”

Before he has a chance to say more, Richie grabs him by the labels and yanks him forward, straight onto his mouth. It’s not graceful by any means—Richie’s glasses nearly poke Shifty in the eye, and the angle’s all wrong, but it’s good. Hell, better than good, it’s great.

It’s chase, with no tongue, but Richie pulls away to adjust the angle and nearly trips backwards over his own damn feet, so Shifty ends up being the one to wrap his arms around Richie’s waist and pull him in for another kiss. And another. And then maybe a few more after that, until Richie has his face in his hands again and—god, his mouth is so soft, and his hands are so warm. Shifty could just melt in him. He’s just glad he’s not shifted, ‘cause otherwise he’d be pink up to his eyeballs. Plus, it’s easier to kiss Richie like this.

The series of kisses lasts probably only a minute or so, but it feels like forever. And when they pull away, hell, Shifty’s really glad he’s not shifted, because the look Richie is directing at him could make fireworks light up.

“That was one helluva kiss, Richie,” Shifty manages.

“Your skin,” Richie replies, brushing his thumb across Shifty’s cheek. For a second he’s worried he’s shifted back, or worse—this form now comes in the same shade of pink, too, but when he looks down at himself he can see that speckles of his scales have crept into his skin. They’re probably on his face, just under his eyes.

“Guess I just lost a bit of control for a sec,” Shifty admits, rubbing the back of his neck. Richie’s eyes widen, the look on his face is the same look he gets when he’s filing away important information for later. “Jesus, Richie, not that I’m complaining, but…what was that for?”

“I wanted…well I—I wanted to do that. Kiss you, I mean, even though I’ve never done it before, so it was probably bad—”

Shifty opens his mouth to interrupt and say that it wasn’t, but Richie continues quickly, the flush on his face down to his neck now. Maybe humans can turn completely pink when pressed.

“But I also wanted to say that I’m sorry. Shifty, if I’ve ever made you feel like you’re just a specimen or—or a lab experiment, then that’s not right. You’re more than that.” He takes Shifty’s hand and squeezes, eyes locked on his. “You’re a kind and intelligent and amazing friend, and you’re so beautiful. No matter what form you take.”

Shifty ducks his head. Praise isn’t really his thing; he doesn’t like being the center of that kind of attention, but on the other hand (and literally, he’s holding his hand), Richie has become an important part of his life he’d rather not do without. He likes having him around, even if it’s for his ‘research’.

“Hell,” he says, not sure what else to say. Richie gives Shifty’s hand another squeeze, and the place where they’re touching tingles. Shifty’s heart is still beating fast, and the words he’s been thinking about just slip out of his mouth. “You saying you wanna go steady, or what?”

It’s almost phrased like a joke, and for a minute Shifty wants to take it back, because how is that anyway to ask somebody out? There’s no way Richie would take that and go with it, but when he looks at his face, Richie’s mouth opens, and then his eyes light up.

“Are you seriously asking me?” he asks, and adds hastily after a long pause, “because the answer would be yes. I would. Very much so. If, um, kissing you wasn’t obvious enough.”

“I’m seriously askin’,” Shifty says, then realizes that while Richie gave him a nice little speech, he hasn’t really returned the favor. “You’re a nerd, Richie. There’s no gettin’ around that.”

“Hey—”

“But,” Shifty continues, raising a hand. “That’s how I like you. You’re wicked smart, and you get me, maybe more than anybody else around here. You’re one of my best friends, aside from Buttons, and when you’re in your element you’re pretty damn cool.”

A smile slowly splits across Richie’s face, until he’s grinning from ear to hear. That hand that’s still holding onto Shifty’s tugs him forward. For a second Shifty thinks he might try to kiss him again, but maybe he used up all his confidence when he did it the first time, because all he does is hold his hand and smile.

Fuck. Shifty clears his throat. “So we gonna eat, or stand here all night?” Not that he would mind.

“Oh! Yeah, my mom’s probably waiting for us. Come on.” Richie pulls him towards the stairs and Shifty goes without protest. They’re still holding hands, and when they reach the ground floor it isn’t until Richie’s mom finds them that he finally let’s go.

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for ages. What were you two doing down there?” She takes in their appearance and the flushed look on Richie’s face. “Carrot, your face is so red. Are you feeling all right?”

Despite the completely innocuous question, Richie’s face makes a complicated expression and he flounders for a response. “Ah— we— I mean I— "

“Science,” Shifty answers smoothly, flinging his arm around Richie’s shoulders. “You know how it is.”

Richie’s mom looks at them, her eyes flicking between the two, and then she claps her hands together. “Oh, don’t I ever! Well, enough science for the night. Let’s eat!”

“Very smooth,” Shifty says to Richie after she’s gone ahead. Richie frowns at him.

“You’re one to talk.” He raises an eyebrow. “’Science?’”

Shifty shrugs. Richie’s frown softens into a soft smile, and before he can metaphorically attack Shifty with his warm eyes, he steals a kiss from Richie’s half-open mouth, grinning when he sputters at him indignantly.

“Come on, sci-fi, meatloaf’s waiting,” he says, letting his hand linger at his lower back, just a while longer.

#is there a tag yet #rockababy #rockababy comic #read this comic or else #c2ndy2c1d #shifty #richie #a classic dynamic #3k #my fic #what do i know about science? well ill have you know NOTHIN #and it shows #i know it's a crime that buttons isn't in this but with another person my dialogue gets out of HAND guys we don't have TIME for that #couldn't think of a title either!! titles are hard #the summary is kind of a lie im sorry if u thought it would be spicy

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jjuzoir · 4 years ago

Text

Random Kageyama Tobio HCS

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: just... me being in love with a m*n other than masumi 😔 also! these are my headcanons as in,,, what i personally i think he’d be like ‼️ also me projecting my ideal man into him (as if he wasn’t it already 😋)

A/N: i... i love tobio so much it’s literally unreal... i couldn’t wait for a request (i’m still working on the remaining 4 too lolol) so take me projecting my love for tobio >:(

— Kageyama normally wears loose fitting clothes or athletic-style clothing. His favorite go to outfits tends to be a loose tee, some loose pants with an obnoxious Nike logo he swears are super cool but look like two garbage bags sewed together, and running shoes. Throw a hoodie in there for colder weather, even then he still manages to look good.

— He takes very good care of his hair, like freaky good care, because of Miwa. Once she enrolled in cosmetology school and she saw Kageyama use the same baby shampoo from when they were kids she freaked out (if she’d been any later he’d start using 3-in-1) and chewed his ear off about hair care. His hair is super shiny and there’s literally no freeze, he uses nice smelling shampoo and conditioner too. Ugh, I love him.

— He has a very sensitive nose but it gets clogged easily so he doesn’t notice much unless it miraculously unclogs itself and he’s complaining about everything.

— “Eh! Hinata, why’d you smell like a fucking axe bottle?!” “Why does no one say anything about Tsukishima smelling like strawberries?” “Yamaguchi smells like... milk.” “Hah?! Sugawara smells bad-?!”

— He says he’s a picky eater to appear cool but as long as you don’t say what’s in the food he’ll down it. He’ll say he doesn’t like carrots but if you give him a salad with carrots he might even say “it’s the best salad he’s ever had”.

— He’s a hot sleeper, and not in the “oh he’s sexy” type of way. I’m talking, he’ll sweat buckets if he sleeps with anything other than a flimsy white t-shirt and his underwear.

— Might be me projecting my love for bunny teeth but he has bunny teeth, his front teeth are a bit bigger than average (not to the point it’s super noticeable but it’s still something Miwa teased him about), his aunties probably squeezed his cheeks and called him “baby bunny” when he was younger.

— He doesn’t go to sleep later than 9PM, he thinks if he does it’ll ruin his schedule (which it will) and fuck up his body - he’s seen Miwa screw up hers after she pulled a bunch of all nighters in her third year in high school and has been afraid since.

— The type to forget people were coming over and come out of his room shirtless asking for his clean underwear.

— His sister forced him to let her cut and style his hair which led to many questionable hairstyles. Tsukishima is genuinely so grateful to Miwa, especially when she was first starting - he’s got some pictures of Tobio with the shortest most embarrassing bangs ever saved in his phone in a file for blackmail if the need for it ever presented itself.

— Likes pissing people off on purpose sometimes, during one of the training camps he probably walked into the bath with socks on and was made fun of but out of spite he just… never took them off. Said he’d done it on purpose and all too. Tanaka cried out of fear for like a hot minute when he saw him standing under the shower with Iron Man socks on.

— He’s so petty too, if you make fun of him for messing up he’ll remember until you embarrass yourself to make fun of you. And when I say he remembers, I mean it - he can’t for his life remember when to use make and do in english but he remembers when Hinata made fun of him for wearing different socks back on their first year and yes he will bring it up on their second year when he did the same thing what are you going to do about it?

— Probably got scouted for a modeling agency once and began running away because he thought they were trying to kidnap him.

— If he had Tiktok… he would’ve gone viral after posting a video of him practicing, he posted for a while for fun and to flex on people that he was hot but then he saw a comment saying they wanted to drink his milk under a video of him drinking milk and he deleted his account, he can’t buy from that brand for a while.

— He’s got a video of a gorilla walking in two legs saved on his phone for when he’s feeling down and watches it whenever he’s not going well. People think he’s texting his S/O but no, he’s just watching a gorilla walk like minecraft Steve.

— He can’t pose for pictures to save his life, his default pose is an NPC stance with his arms stiffly hanging down and his eyes wide in surprise, don’t ask him to smile or else he will look like a serial killer.

— He’s got a bit of baby fat on his cheeks that won’t disappear no matter what. It’s become a pre-game ritual to pinch his cheeks. He’s also got dimples you can really only see when he smiles naturally but he doesn’t know and he’d get shy if he knew and try covering his face so don’t tell him, that’s a fact he told me so himself.

— Cannot dance to save his life. He’s so long (?) his limb control is non-existent, it appears in game and vanishes when he steps out of the court. He really just bounces on his heels and moves his arms like a t-rex, don’t ask more of him.

— Buys his clothes one size bigger just in case and Miwa teases him saying he’ll need them when he gets old and fat.

— Gets asked out often but always rejects, then has the audacity to complain he’s never dated anyone like he hasn’t turned down half of the school's population.

— Can’t sing. He’s got a nice speaking voice but ask him to sing and he’s out of tone, out of sync, out of breath, and out of the room in 5 seconds.

— Sugawara joked about having him singing as his alarm clock and Kageyama actually believed him, probably sent him a new recording as a gift after he annoyed him during practice.

— Surprisingly funny when he wants to but most jokes fly over people’s heads since he seems so serious most of the time, it annoys him to no end. Yachi still struggles differentiating when he is and isn’t joking because his tone literally doesn’t change at all and she doesn’t want to offend him.

— When he was younger he liked to collect rocks, not even the pretty ones he’d pick the most average, raggedy rocks off the ground and clean them up and tuck them to bed because he saw Miwa play with her barbies like that. Still owns his first rock, he named it “Johnson” after Dwayne Johnson, aka the rock (he’s had to explain it so many times he’s exhausted).

— Accidentally drank expired milk once and didn’t notice until his stomach began hurting and he thought he became lactose intolerant and he was inconsolable for days until he realized it had expired like a month ago - he went on a milk shopping spree and the milk sales that week saw a 20% rise from the last few months.

— Tobio had bad handwriting until he was in Junior High because his teachers couldn’t understand him and had him practice calligraphy, his handwriting is now one of the prettiest ones in the team and he’s the official inker of the VBC posters (as designated by Goddess Yachi Hitoka herself).

— His biggest fear for a long time was getting eaten by piranhas because he saw it happen so often in cartoon shows he genuinely thought it was going to be a bigger deal than it turned out to be but for like a solid 6 years of his life he avoided suspicions puddles just in case.

— Kageyama has a habit of rolling and unrolling his sleeves when he’s deep in thought, it soon made way to a habit of checking his wrist watch (he absolutely has a wrist watch, you cannot change my mind on that) but not actually reading it.

— His nails are very pretty, like most setters, he takes very good care of them. They’re filed down to a perfect length and he puts oils and creams, his hands in general are so nice. He takes a lot of pride in them, you know his cuticles are pushed back and trimmed and he could absolutely be a hand model. Kags’ hands are calloused, he’s a volleyball player of course they are, but it’s not to the extent of Ushijima or Daichi’s hands.

— Talking about hands, it’s probably one of his favorite features on people. He loves holding hands with his S/O and tracing the wrinkles in their palm, being able to interlock fingers with them and feel the bumps in them.

— Mumbles to himself when in thought too! Very nonsensical if you’re not informed on what he’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about you he’ll mumble your name or something like “pretty eyes”.

— Has a very healthy diet, like extremely healthy and thought out. He won’t eat anything too sugary or that could throw off his body, but he does have cheat days (which are rare but exist). He also doesn’t drink much soda or alcohol (once he’s of age).

— Things like smoking are a big no, he takes so much care of his body he wouldn’t even touch a cigarette or be near a smoking area, lowkey paranoid of ingesting the smoke too.

— When he’s older I can see him having a dog and a cat, the dog would be a big dog; if they stood on two paws it’d be the same height as you, he’d name or something like Tobias and think he was super clever and funny, the cat would probably a small cat he’d name Milk (it probably would be a black cat too but he does not care).

— Probably tried baby formula because he heard it was a substitute for breast milk. No further comments on this.

— I feel like he doesn’t listen to music, but if he had to choose something he’d pick instrumental music - not orchestral music or anything like that - but more of a chill, no deep meaning just guitar and piano track. I could see him listening to Shego Sekito or Joe Hisashi on occasion, he might even listen to some 2000’s pop if he wants something to pump him up during training (he works out to Brittney Spears’ “Womanizer”).

— A cuddle-bug when he’s sleepy, he’ll throw himself across his S/O and not move at all, he just wants to stay there and not move ever again (or at least until he’s not feeling like passing out). He’ll like to wrap himself around them and cuddle their neck, he’ll attach himself to their arm like it’s a lifeline.

— In other words, Kageyama Tobio… b-boyfriend material.

#—🎀 haikyuu!#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #tobio x reader #hq #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hc #hq fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #kageyama headcanons #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x you #—✒️ sora’s scripts

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jetsam-kisa · 3 years ago

Text

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight.

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?”

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay.

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating.

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions.

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory!

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered.

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body.

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament?

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks.

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue.

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost.

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#this was the first time i have ever written a fight scene!!#i hope it turned out well... again sorry for the length lmaooo #michiko #jetsam #bnha oc comeback #sports event

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hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

Text

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

#shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou fanfiction #shinso fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #tw: anxiety

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nriacc · 4 years ago

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Nothing Revealed in a Common Crisis ~ Teaser

Here’s a teaser of Part 1 of NRIACC ~ Only Ones Who Know.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: You all finally get the teaser ahhhhh!!! We are so excited to finally start sharing content with you! We would love to hear what you think of it so far once you’ve read the teaser and we’d love to hear your theories on what you think is going to happen. Really hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading x

Part 1 will be out in full, May 21st 2021

An @imagine-that-100 and @ghostlightqueen collaboration.

| N’s Masterlist | Dot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist (Coming Soon) |

~*~*~*~ July 2003 ~*~*~*~

“Excuse me, can you pull over please?” You ask loudly after practically leaning over Alex who sat directly behind the driver of the black taxi.

The driver nods his head and begins to reduce his speed after you asked him that through the perspex that separated him from the rest of you.

“Thank you,” You tell the driver, before getting out of Alex’s personal space and sitting back down next to the disgusting couple that were getting off beside you.

Thank god you weren’t too far away from home now.

Alex asks you with wide eyes, “Why’d you do that? What’s happening?”

You look at the brunette who looked like he felt more uncomfortable about being seated backwards than Matt getting off with the random girl beside you.

Alex was meant to be staying at Matt’s house tonight after their gig and the night out you’d had afterwards. But in the pub Matt had gotten lucky and the girl wanted to go home with him.

You living two roads away from Matt Helders meant that you always shared taxis home with him but tonight was just insufferable. And you weren't going to let Alex suffer through it once you parted ways, either.

“You’re staying at mine. I’m not leaving you with that,” You inform Alex, looking over to Matt sticking his tongue down the random girl's throat.

The more you looked at Matthew and the blonde the more you wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle. Hands were beginning to roam now, too, and you didn’t want to be in their vicinity any longer.

It would be very unfair of you to leave Alex in their presence. Especially when you had your whole house to yourself and you were only round the corner from where he was originally meant to be staying.

“What about your Mum?” Alex asks, concern on his face as the taxi slows.

“She’s away for the weekend so it’s fine. House is empty,” You assure him as you open the door once the red light has gone off.

Both you and Alex get out of the taxi but before you close the door you pull a £10 note out of your pocket for your share of the taxi fare.

“Matt, you’re disgusting but here’s a tenner,” You say throwing the money at him.

Matt nods at you when he takes a quick break from the blonde. You shake your head at him trying not to smile at the cocky bastard.

You hear Alex tell the driver, “Then to the original address please mate” when you close the black door.

You’re more than thankful to see the taxi drive away. You didn’t want to endure anymore of that disgusting PDA.

Both you and Alex breathe a sigh of relief when you’re just in each other’s presence again. You’re glad to see the taxi’s lights disappear from sight down the long road.

“They’re vile,” Alex sighs before lighting up a cigarette.

“I was ready to jump out the taxi but the red light were on,” You tell him truthfully with a little chuckle.

You both walk in silence for a few minutes, just smoking and both reminiscing about the night you’d just had.

Alex and the lads had a gig in a venue in town where your friendship group had all gone to support him. You were always really close with them all, your little group always meeting up after high school and now most days after college.

But now it was summer and the group could meet up more often which was great. And whilst you were still in Sheffield, you would be making the most of every group event.

So when Matt suggested going out on the pull to a club after the gig, you were all up for it. However, the night didn’t go to plan.

You were in the queue for the club for about half an hour and then when half of you got in, the bouncers stopped Alex and asked for his ID.

This obviously put an end to that idea because most of you were all 17 except for Nick and Jamie. So it was lucky that those of you who got in actually did.

But once one of you had been stopped you all didn’t have a chance then. Alex tried to back chat the bouncers which didn’t really go down well, so you ended up shouting everyone back outside.

You didn’t abandon your mates. If one of you couldn’t get in, you all wouldn’t be going in.

Alex was pissed off about it for a while until you all found a bar that was known for not IDing people to go in that wasn’t too far away. So his mood thankfully picked up when you all got there.

However it seemed like he was a bit down as you walked down the long roads towards your house.

So as you stubbed your cigarette bud out, you questioned him, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Alex shook his head, stuffing his hands in his zip up hoodies pockets after throwing what little was left of his fag to the ground.

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you only called him out again on it when he kicked a stone along the pavement in a huff.

“Alex, I’m being serious, what’s up?” You ask again, noting that his shoulders were hunched to.

He tried to brush you off again, this time saying, “Nothing, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know you can talk to me about anything you want, right?” You feel the need to remind him.

You’d known him since you were 3. If you desperately needed someone to turn to and the girls weren’t around Alex would more than likely be your go to.

“Not this,” Alex shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“It can’t be that bad,” You tell him.

Alex just shakes his head again, really not wanting to get into it with you because he didn’t think you’d understand. So this time he changes his answer to, “It’s not bad, it’s just embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than when I wet myself in primary school and you never let me forget about it?” You shake your head.

Alex laughs a little at that, finally looking toward you when he says, “Because it was funny.”

“I was five years old Alex, give me a fucking break,” You chuckle, attempting to defend yourself.

Both of you laugh at the memory of him bringing it up countless times over the years. He was such a teasing friend but you’d known him since you were toddlers so you would let him off.

You had enough embarrassing stories of him that you could bring up if you needed too.

“Come on,” You try again, “What’s up?”

This time you seem to get somewhere because Alex tells you, “I really just feel like shit.”

“Why?” You ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little. “I thought you had a good night?”

“I mean yeah sure, I had a good night with you, but that’s not what I mean,” Alex tells you, and when you don’t reply he looked round at you noticing you were waiting for him to continue.

He sighs when he just gives in and tells you, “I just mean I was hoping to get off with that girl in that green dress but it didn’t happen.”

Ah, you understood now.

“Didn’t get a pull, again,” Alex scorns himself before once again kicking the stone on the ground a lot harder this time.

You watched as it clattered it’s way down the darkened pavements and you nod understanding his words.

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean,” You tell him honestly. “I was gutted about that too, that guy in that leather jacket was fit.”

Fit was the highest compliment you northerners would give people. You weren’t meaning it in an athletic sense but if you deemed someone as fit that meant that you found them very attractive.

Alex nods processing your words. He vaguely remembered you chatting to a guy in a leather jacket in the bar. But he’d had a few drinks since then so his memory was a tad hazy.

After a few seconds of silence between you, Alex just sighs, telling you his full truth, “I just feel like I’m behind...”

“You know what I mean... Like everyone else either goes home with someone or pulls them and does stuff in the club,” Alex lists off thinking back to previous nights out.

You nod, “Yeah and I hate it.”

“I hate it, too,” Alex agrees.

A thought whirls around your mind for a few moments, before you actually grow the balls to say it out loud, “I hate that I’m still a virgin.”

“Same.” Alex says in what seems like relief that you’d said it too.

Your friendship group was a close one. You all knew who’d been sleeping with who and who's single and who’s done things and who hadn’t.

It wasn’t a surprise to either of you what you were hearing the other say out loud.

If anything though it got a weight off both your chests.

“You know like I just don’t want the first time something happens to be someone fingering me in a club or something,” You laugh a little as you turn the corner onto another long road.

“Yeah, I get that,” Alex nods chuckling too.

Some of the stories that your friends told in the place you all went out was truly mental. But gossip was gossip and it spread like wildfire.

Alex continues showing his understanding with, “Like, you’re not necessarily after being in a relationship or whatever but you at least don’t want it to be a randomer.”

“Literally,” You nod, “I’m glad you get it.”

“Well you know... The same things go through my mind,” Alex tells you.

He’s just glad he’s not the only one feeling a bit left behind.

“What, getting fingered in a club?” You ask him playfully with a little laugh.

“Fuck off,” Alex laughs and nudges you to the side.

You both laugh for a second and once you’re next to him again he continues, “I just mean like I wanna just get things out of the way... Like I don’t want it to mean nothing, but I also don’t want to be completely shit at everything if I’m doing it with someone who I’m going to be in a relationship with.”

“Oh my god that’s literally it, isn’t it?” You nod, “Like I just feel like after the first times’ done and dusted, I could be a little slag then if I wanted to be... Because then I wouldn’t be scared of some wanker taking my virginity just to then fuck off.”

“Literally,” Alex smiles at you, understanding completely.

“Have you done anything?” You ask him after a few moments of silence. The only round to be heard was your footsteps.

“No,” Alex shakes his head before asking, “Have you?”

“No,” You offer him a sad smile.

Alex returns yours with his own and you both just walk down the road in a comfortable silence for a minute. You’re about 5 minutes away from your house now.

“I feel like you could write a sad song about us,” You say not wanting to get lost in your thoughts again.

“I wouldn’t wanna broadcast our lives like that,” Alex chuckles a tad, shaking his mop of brown hair.

You grin at him, “Very considerate of you.”

“Well you know, I’m a nice guy,” Alex smiles, his chocolate eyes looking at you.

You smile, “I know you are.”

“Gentleman really,” Alex adds in jest which makes you laugh.

“Pushing the boat out a bit there Al,” You chuckle before you both share a laugh.

A silence falls between you then as you both continue to walk down the road. Thoughts start forming in your mind then, you never really were a fan of silence because it gave you a chance to overthink and create some crazy ideas.

You then walk silently faster before turning towards him and stopping in front of him.

Alex stops walking too and looks at you curiously.

“What’s up?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask after building up a little confidence.

Alex’s frowns a little, “What?”

Where was this coming from?

“Can I kiss you... Like properly?” You ask, confidence shooting way down though when you see your friend is not so keen on the idea.

“Erm...” Alex trails off looking at you like you’ve gone mad.

Then you feel a bit stupid.

You shake your head, starting to turn back to start walking towards your house again. As you do, you begin to backtrack, “Just ignore me, I don’t know what I’m thin-“

Alex’s hand then grabs your wrist and whips you back around to face him. The brunette then takes a step towards you, cups the back of your neck, and attaches his lips to yours.

You’re a bit taken aback by his actions, despite you asking for it. But you quickly relax into the gesture.

Your hand that landed on his chest after him pulling you back around clutched at his hoodie as you got your bearings with each other. You bring your hand up to lace into his hair and as you do that Alex deepens the kiss.

He was almost hesitant at first when his tongue connected with yours. But after a second you both got more confident with it.

The night was a humid one so it meant that when the kiss started heating the both of you up, it got you both really hot and bothered. He was a really good kisser, something that you’d never really given much thought to before.

But as he was kissing you, you felt a giddy nervousness in your stomach. Something that made you crave him more.

And Alex seemed just as keen on you too, he was pulling you close to him. With one hand around your waist and the other still cupping your neck, keeping you in place.

His lips were soft against your own yet they moved at an increasing pace which you happily tried to keep up with. It was like you were both catching up for a night of failed attempts at a pull.

But you were finally getting it now. Your tongues were moving against each other’s in a way that screamed for the other to continue and never break apart.

When Alex’s fingers dig into your hips you pull the tiniest bit tighter on his hair as you hum into the kiss. You were really enjoying it, completely invested in it and his hold on you felt possessive in the best way.

It was like you were both kissing each other that frantically to make up for the lost time you’d had at the pub.

The kiss only stops because you’re startled away from each other by a car razzing it’s way down the street. The exhaust had obviously been tampered with to make it sound much louder than it was.

You pulled away a little shocked that you’d both just pulled each other like that in front of some random house around the corner from yours. You could hear the car that had just made you both jump over the sound of your own rapid heartbeat.

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

A/N: AHHHH WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!?!?! What do you think is going to happen???? Apologies for no Matty yet but he comes into it a little later. Don’t worry though, the whole story is equally balanced out. Really hope you all enjoyed it, can’t wait for you to read the full part on May 21st.

Let us know if you want to be added to the taglist x

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uwuderes · 4 years ago

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My Queen

I hope this is acceptable I don't really like it but hey I've worked on it for over 3 weeks so yeah yeah

Billy felt lost. Of course he had the occasional Hawkins whore now and again, but they didn't fill the hole he didn't even realized he had in his heart. Things got more and more dull as the days went on.

That was until you showed up.

It all started when Neil hired you to baby sit Max. He didn't even knew you existed in Hawkins. He would've surely had noticed you.

You stood in the kitchen happily looking after Max, making sandwiches and fixing drinks. He wasn't even paying attention really.

You grabbed the tray and handed sandwich to the younger girl. She looked up from her skate board in which she was working on. Apparently one of the wheels were wobbly and caused her to mess up. You didn't know anything about skateboarding you never really went out. The only reason you go out is to babysit which is very rare. Your cousins are really the only ones you take care of. This is your first time taking care of a kid that your not related too.

"Thanks. Who's the extra sandwich for?" Max pointed to the tray taking a bite. "Don't tell me you actually made one for that asshole."

"Hey language, and yes I did. He has to be some form of hungry up in there." You said looking at the closed white door, that played some of the loudest music you heard. You sighed ignoring Max's attempts to get you to not go to her brothers door. Getting up from your kneeled position, you started towards the door humming to yourself.

Taking in a deep breath you raised your fist and knocked. Nothing... You did it again but harder. This time there was something. You heard the music turn down and heavy footsteps come towards the door.

'Maybe you shouldn't have disturbed him....'

The door swung open nearly hitting you in the face. You stepped back seeing who all the girls in Hawkins adored and talked about.

Billy Hargrove.

He towered over your small figure, looking down at you. "Look at you..." Was all he said. You were instantly uncomfortable around him. He ate you up just by staring at you. "So what are you doing knocking on my door princess?" Billy said smugly. He reeked of cigarette smoke and blew one of his clouds into your face. You coughed out, the smell making your lungs ache. You looked up only to see his smirk widen.

"Um listen I made you a sandwich and I just wanted to give it to you..." You looked away in fear of how he would react to both you and that. Billy wasn't the most rational of people from what you hear from both Max and Steve, one of your other friends.

"Aw for me? You didn't have to." Billy said almost mockingly. He took the sandwich and grabbed your arm yanking you in. He closed the door quietly behind you both. Your heart rate picked up profoundly all of a sudden what could he possibly want with you? "You see I gotta reward you someway princess..."

"N-No Billy, le-let me out of here. I-I'm fine really!" You were pressed against the door, Billy right in front of you. You then felt your arm being yanked once more as Billy pulled the cigarette that hung loosely in his mouth and pressed it to your skin. You yelled out trying to pull away but couldn't. You were nothing compared to Billy who was pure muscle.

"Look at that pretty mark already forming..." Billy rubbed the mark making you hiss louder. He then opened the door behind you cashing you to fall back and hit both your back and head. "You go run along now, if I do anything with you right now baby things are gonna end up bad for you... And you don't want that now do you?" Billy said in a baby voice. You felt tears prick your eyes as you didn't even respond but hurried off and scurried away.

Billy stood at the door way smirking. Now shes interesting....

After that experience Billy's life was changed forever. He devoted every passing day during his senior year into stalking and watching you. He'd have his hook up every now and again but other than that he was focused on you 24/7.

Billy some times even went back to your house in which is where spent most of his nights. Outside of your window and once you went to bed, moved into your room. Of course he'd rummage around in your stuff. He'd learn so much about you just by watching you. He saw how you treated Max and wanted children with you. Something that can bind the two of you together.

Recently Billy also came in contact with something... He knew he shouldn't give in but it fed his thoughts. He needed you.. You were the one thing he could have that wouldn't break in his grasp. Billy sat there on his bed, more aware of anything and everything. He knew what he had to do.

You were in your room cleaning up. Your sophomore year had just come to an end, meaning that it's time for a rush in with babysitting jobs. You were happy but at the same time you knew it was going to be a long summer.

You sighed falling down on your bed. You pulled out the usual numbers getting ready for the calls to start flooding in. The instant you picked up the notepad the house phone rang loudly. You grumbled and reluctantly got up and walked down the hall to the phone. You pulled it off the wall answering it. "Hello?"

"Hey (Y/n)." Said a low voice. A voice that plagued your mind in the worse ways possible.

"Um Hi Billy, How did you get my number...?" You twisted the phone cord feeling anxious as ever.

"You babysit Max why wouldn't I have it. But anyways, I'm coming to pick you up. Max needs someone to watch over her." You let out a breath of relief.

"Ohh understandable. I'll see you soon..." You said hanging up. It was sweet that be wanted to pick you up since you couldn't drive but he creeped you out. Ever since you got pulled in the room, it hasn't been the same. You never babysat Max while he was around and avoided him at school. Not like you ever seen him often.

You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. That was quick... He must've been on his way when he called. You walked towards the door taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Billy stood there looming over you. He looked panicked before looking down at you. His breath caught in his throat he looked at you a tad bit longer before blinking and shaking his head. "You know you can come in right??" You said smiling and looking away.

"Yeah of course I do." You stepped aside as Billy walked in. You closed the door locking it. Something you'd soon regret. Billy looked around taking in all that he could. He'd been here multiple times before but this was the first time he could really admire everything without having to worry about being quiet.

"I'm going to get my stuff from the washroom and then we should be ready to leave." You said your voice not hiding the fact that your nervous. Billy nodded as you rushed off. He walked down the hall memorizing your houses layout. Billy flicked on the light taking in the sight. Your room... Right before him... The freedom of not needing to take caution. He stepped into your room feeling your bed, the voice in his head grew louder. Almost like it wanted him to take you. And he would for sure.

You walked out of the washroom and looked in the living room seeing Billy not there. Your brows furrowed as you walked around the house. "Billy! Hello?" You called out. You walked down your hallway seeing your light in your room on. You thought you turned that off....

Billy was in your bed feeling up your pillows humping them. It felt so good being surrounded by you he just had to get himself off. Billy groaned out feeling himself getting close to cumming. "(Y/n)- I'm so close..." You gasped dropping your bag. You felt tears prick your eyes, and your head started to pound against your skull. Billys head whipped around turning towards your figure. His eyes were blown nothing but lust and pleasure present in them.

"(Y/n)... Come on... Come help me...." Billy whined out. This was a whole new man than what Billy presented himself as. "Your the only one who can help me..." You rushed out wanting to keep as far away from Billy as possible. You grabbed at your door knob trying to turn it but you remembered you locked it. You turned around seeing Billy close behind. You quickly undid the lock and swung the door open. You started out of the door but Billy grabbed your leg making you fall.

"Oh no your not!" You were flipped over. Billy got on top of you pinning you down. "Your so perfect to me... Just look at you." Billy mumbled kissing your neck lightly. His eyes widened as he seemingly looked at nothing in particular. "Okay..." He said to himself looking back down at you. "Okay my love, your coming with me. You are going to be right by my side when me and my friend destroy this town... Your going to be my fucking world." You whimpered as Billy grabbed your throat. Your vision got spotty, as you looked into Billy's eyes. His smile only grew wider.

The last thing you heard before passing out was Billy's breathing picking up mumbling to himself the ideas he had in store for you. "You and me are going to be together forever..."

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 4 years ago

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promise [connor m. x reader] pt.2

because i think this is a fitting end to this story. actual notes at the very end of this post, after the fic.

warnings: general swearing. this is a part 2 to a fic on @pacman-tattoo though.

12:23 AM connie: you still awake?

12:26 AM connie: babe.

12:35 AM connie: i’ll be home soon, ok?

12:36 AM connie: traffic is weirdly fucking awful rn and i wish you were here

12:37 AM [y/n]: sorry, i’m here. i was almost asleep.

12:38 AM connie: sorry

12:39 AM [y/n]: make it up to me <3

12:39 AM connie: i will

With a quiet hum, you left your phone back on the nightstand where it had been charging up until the vibrations against wood had pulled you out of your state of near-slumber. Connor rarely worked late, but sometimes he was roped into cleaning more than just the bar itself. It was temporary, he told you over and over. Eventually, he’d get his stupid book of stupid poetry (his words, never yours) and maybe he could go from there. Write more books, make things work, and one day he’d be staying at home and writing poetry while you continued to be the breadwinner once you were out of school for good (your words, occasionally his). Sure, working in an office when you weren’t swamped with classes and making pretty okay money in the meantime hadn’t been your plan originally, but... things happen. Life changed. Connor was a constant for you, though. True to the promise he made to you almost six years ago at eighteen, he never disappeared again. Not the way that he had used to. Sure, there were fights, and he would leave you alone in the living room while he shut himself up in the bedroom and dealt with the flow of emotions that rammed through him, but things worked out. On the worst nights, he’d come back out to find you asleep on the couch, and he’d end up waking you up and the two of you would fix things. He opened up to you, slowly and surely, and things worked. It was hard, certainly, but... the two of you made it work.

And now you were lying in bed in the little apartment that you shared, waiting for him to come home from bartending (Connor Murphy, working in customer service? You never could fully believe it, but he managed) and to climb into bed next to you, and maybe the two of you would talk until you fell asleep.

The sound of jingling keys from the living room caught your attention almost half an hour later, followed by the slamming of a door, and then heavy footsteps. Before you could call out to him, Connor came in through the door, fighting his way out of his shoes, his jacket, his jeans, and soon enough he threw himself directly into the space next to you. For a moment, he was hardened by whatever bullshit he’d faced during the day, but one look at you was enough to soften his gaze.

You sat up, reaching out to brush his hair from his face. “Long day?”

“The fucking worst.”

Despite the aggravation in his voice, you chuckled. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, hopping back up. “It’s stupid shit,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” But he paused before he could move away, dipping forward to press a kiss against your lips. “It’s fine,” he said again. “I promise.”

As he walked away, you merely watched as he began to strip out of his clothing before changing into a faded band t-shirt that often was used by one of you as a sleeping shirt. You admired him for a moment. Six years ago, he was... thinner. Bonier. Ever since things had shifted between the two of you, he’d put on a bit of weight (enough to become less of a bean-pole and more... okay) and he generally seemed brighter, if you were honest. Maybe that was what getting out the Murphy house did for him. He’d cut his hair, although it still stayed long enough to hang in his face if he wasn’t careful. As much as you missed the long locks, you were happy. He’d begun taking care of himself. He had his off days, and you knew that, but he seemed to genuinely be trying for you, and he was trying for himself, too.

“You like the show?”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Maybe I do,” you reached toward him, doing grabby hands. “C’mere,” you whined quietly. “I wanna cuddle.”

He scoffed at the notion, but climbed into bed next to you a moment later nonetheless. Instead of folded into your arms, he pulled you closer, wrapping himself securely around you, cocooning you in his warmth. The faint smell of his cologne still stuck to him, and you happily buried your face in his neck before pressing a soft kiss against his skin.

“Sometimes,” his voice vibrated in his chest, and although you went to move, he kept his hold on you. So you relaxed into him, and he continued, “I think about when we got together.”

“Mmhm?”

“I was dealing with a lot,” he said, lowering his voice. “Fuck, you know how many problems I had, and...” He paused for a moment, nuzzling his face into your hair just for a second. “And I’m glad I got help.” He corrected himself barely a second later, “I’m getting help.” When you didn’t respond, he continued on, “I’m glad it’s working.”

“I am, too,” you admitted against his skin, and he hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He ran a hand up and down your back, and the motion soothed you slightly. “I was scared I was depending on you entirely,” he shut his eyes. “I thought that if you weren’t here, I couldn’t be happy. But... I got better,” he said. “I’m better. I have... friends,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “I’m writing. I’m not fucking paranoid all the time. But...” He drew away from you, hands reaching up to cup your face, smushing your face slightly. “I do have you. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Someone’s sappy tonight,” you pulled a hand away. “I’m glad you stayed, too.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you,” he said, and the air grew tense for a moment. He... wasn’t being sappy, he was being honest. “But, I think... I think now I’ve learned that even with my bullshit, I... I think I deserve good things, sometimes.”

“You do,” you reached up to trail a thumb along the apple of his cheek. “Just because you fucked up and got angry at people and dealt with a lot doesn’t mean you’re not worth loving.”

He chuckled, and he said your name gently. “No wonder you’re trying to become a therapist.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his own for a moment. “I wanna help people,” you said. “I wanna help teenagers like you who needed it. I didn’t give up on you then, and I don’t want to give up on my future patients.”

“Even if you’re not what they need?”

“Especially if I’m not what they need,” you said. “I’ll find them someone else. Just because I can’t help them wouldn’t mean that I can’t help them find someone who can.”

There was softness in his eyes as he kissed you gently. No more scent of cigarettes and the taste of smoke (he’d given that up long ago, just so he could have longer with you), but he still held the same warmth he did the first time you kissed. “I love you.”

So you settled into his arms after giving him one last kiss. “I love you, too, Connor.”

So... I’d like to take a moment to talk, since, uh, it feels right to.

I started writing musical reader inserts back in 2017, shortly after my 17th birthday, and the first one I wrote was a Connor Murphy fic titled “Promise.” Which... is why I feel that this is a fitting ending for my writing. I don’t remember the last fic I wrote for this blog, but I never felt completely satisfied in saying “I’m done writing reader fics for musicals” since... nothing felt like an ending.

Of course, I’ll still sorta be lingering around this blog if anyone wants to DM me or send in an ask, but I’m not gonna write anymore. I sorta stopped once I got to college since I didn’t exactly have the time to do it as often anymore (and I sorta lost interest in writing for musicals, actually, since I do write elsewhere sometimes), but... that’s beside the point.

A... lot has happened since I posted that first fic. I dated someone for the first time, ended things with them, and then I fucked up majorly with some things that happened afterward. I’m still atoning for it, and maybe I never will fully do so, but it’s one of my deepest regrets. Of course, I’ve... learned I’m not the only person at fault in the situation (more like I was manipulated, but I’m not going to deny my own part there), but I think coming to the realization that I wasn’t alone there... helped. I lost a few friends, and I kept everyone else for the most part. For a really, really long time, I always wondered why. I had fucked up so majorly, I couldn’t comprehend why my friends stayed with me.

And... It’s because we love each other. I fucked up, sure, but... they knew who I was as a person. These people didn’t abandon me because they saw me for who I am. I explained what happened, I showed anger and frustration and melancholy for everything that I (and the other person at fault) had done, and... they weren’t going to cast me out in my hour of need. I had made the group chat we all met in, and I tried to take an interest in everyone as best as I could. I became a different person when I was with my ex, and... and I never want to be that person ever again. I was petty, and spiteful, and when I look at who I became, I realize that I’d been changed for the worst. I like to think I’ve gotten better, and maybe that’s because of the stupid fucking trauma making me realize my place.

But... I love my friends. I love them so, so much. I don’t think I’d still be here if it weren’t for them. It’s been a pretty wild ride, and I’ve written so much for these fandoms (although admittedly not in recent years) but... I’m proud of what I have done. I love writing so, so much, and it’s always going to be a part of who I am, no matter what route I end up taking. While I can look back on some of my writing and laugh because it’s cringe-y and clumsy and I’ve definitely improved, it’s still something I did.

Even if this post doesn’t get a single note, I’m... still proud of what I’ve done and how far I’ve come, and I thank anyone reading this for coming with me on this journey. Please, take care of yourselves. Be kind. It’s okay to have bad days: even flowers need a little rain to grow.

But most importantly: love yourself and love the people that want you to be better.

Thanks, gamers. Feel free to hit me up anytime.

~ Minerva “Minni” @mango-juiiice

#mj's writing corner #dear evan hansen x reader #deh x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen reader insert #Connor Murphy x Reader #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy reader insert

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laheyyisaac · 4 years ago

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Overdue

chapter 3 — starting over

SUMMARY: Guinevere Bailey just moved to McKinney, TX in order to figure out her life. She meets Captain Hank Syverson at the local library, and she finds out she might have bitten off more than she can chew. PAIRING: Syverson x OFC WORD COUNT: 1394 A/N: holy shit! it’s been like 5 months! first of all, i’m so terribly sorry. i’ve been wretchedly depressed, and covid and grad school have simultaneously been beating the shit out of me with a wrench. or a lead pipe. not sure yet. either way. let me know what you think. i’m a bit rusty on this story, but i still want to at least finish it. not much of an idea where it’s gonna go. any thoughts? anything you’d like to see? lmk! TAGS: @promptandpros @alyxkbrl @completelybonkersentirelymad @mylifefallingupthestairs @kissthatlifeaway @dangerouslovefanfic @michellemybelles-world @poledancingdinos @speakerforthedead0 @omgkatinka @marswritings @misslalaland-blog-blog @oddsnendsfanfics @mzchievous-blog @auds24 @maizyistrash @mary-ann84 @justaboringadult @mis-lil-red @xxxkatxo PART 1 / PART 2

Captain Henry Syverson Jr. had never felt more like shit than he did now. He stared at his phone with a scowl on his face, still covered head to toe in soot.

hope you’re okay. i’m headed home.

He’d screwed up the date he was having with a girl he thought was… well, incredibly pretty and incredibly funny. Sy closed his phone and sat it on his bed, going to his bathroom to wash off the remains of the barn that had caught fire last night. The barn had belonged to his mama and pop, and when he’d seen the smoke, he knew the animals hadn’t been moved out yet. Most of last night had been moving the animals out as fast as they could. So far, they’d only lost a hog and a calf in the fire, and a few were burned. It was...not bad, all things considered.

He still hadn’t had the nerve to text Guinevere back. He hadn’t had the nerve to go and see her either at the library. She most likely thought he’d stood her up, but the exact opposite was true. Sy stepped under the hot water, and he sighed as the drain tried to handle the near black liquid pooling down. He scrubbed his head as best he could. His hair was starting to grow back, already longer than he was used to. However, he wanted to grow it out. He missed his shaggy curls. The desert didn’t allow for that much.

He washed up as best as he could, and he realized his need for new shampoo and body wash since he smelled like a damn Bath & Body Works store. God love his mother, but she didn’t know what he liked anymore. And as lovely as lavender smelled, Sy didn’t want to smell like that. No, he much preferred his lovers smell like that.

With a sigh, he stepped from the shower and dried off, looking over himself in the mirror. A few scars littered his chest, a few bullet wounds and the like. They added to his look. Or so he hoped.

He grabbed his phone and finally made the plunge, texting Gwen with all the humility he could muster.

I can explain. She typed back for a few moments, but then the typing bubbles went away. They started up again a moment later, and that continued for a few more minutes. Sy was practically having heart palpitations.

let’s hear it.

Our barn caught on fire last night, and I was out pulling the animals out. I completely forgot to text you. I’m sorry.

She started typing again. He didn’t have to wait long for this one. oh my god oh my god i’m so sorry! i must seem like such a jerk right now! ugh. i’m so sorry a thousand times over. do you want to reschedule?

Sy smiles. She’s sweet. Sounds good. I’ll be there this time. Hell or high water. Same place, same time tonight?

perfect. see you then, sy.

She sent a little heart emoji after that, and Sy was over the moon. Hopefully, nothing would ruin tonight. Then again, knowing Sy’s luck...

He made it there on time, meaning 5 minutes before. He got their table, set everything just right, and he waited. One minute before, Gwen stepped inside looking like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The mustard colored dress she wore perfectly complemented those eyes of hers. Took his breath away.

She looked nervous, and she was. However, he stood and waved a hand over to her. She beamed at him, trying to look like she wasn’t running towards him. It looked more like a brisk half-jog, which Sy appreciated. They were both excited. In their own ways.

He stood as she got closer, going around to pull out her chair for her. She flashed him a quick smile, and she sat. The tips of her ears were bright red. Sy had done his duty in making her blush, so he returned to his chair and sat across from her.

“I am so sor—”

They both spoke at the same time, and they both laughed in tandem. “You go first,” Gwen said, brushing her hair from her face and putting her chin in her hands.

“I am so sorry, Guinevere. I should have texted or called you sooner to let you know what had happened. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Gwen was silent for a while, and that made Sy fidget. He wasn’t fond of silences he deemed awkward, and this was one such silence. The Captain in him wanted to continue speaking, to talk and talk and talk until she had finally gotten it into her head what he meant when he hadn’t messaged her. But she spoke before he could actually say anything else.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sy. Not like you set fire to your own barn. Unless you did, and if you did, I’m required to report you to the authorities.” They both laugh, and Gwen reaches out to take his hand across the table.

“Sorry for the miscommunication,” she breathed, finally. “Do over?”

“Do over. Howdy.” He raises their hands to shake. “My name is Hank Syverson Jr. But you can call me Sy. I’m a Captain in the U.S. Army. Who in the world are you, young lady?”

She laughs and shakes his hand right back, thumb brushing along the rough texture of his hands. “I am Guinevere Bailey, local librarian and nuisance. But you can just call me Gwen. Or nuisance. Again, I answer to both.”

It only goes up from there. Turned out that the army captain and the librarian shared a deep love of Tolkien and fantasy series of all sorts. He had a deep affection for video games, and though their tastes differed — he preferred combat heavy games and Gwen preferred story driven games — they both agreed that video games were quite fun no matter the genre. They laughed. They shared dessert. They lost track of time. They were gently reminded of the restaurant’s hours, and Gwen started to pull out her wallet to help pay for her dinner.

“Now now, little lady, let me get this one.”

“Only if you promise I can get the next one.”

Now, Hank was a chivalrous man, an old fashioned man. But he also never said no to a free meal, and in a refreshing turn for Guinevere, he said — “Deal.”

She smiled. “I really like you Hank Syverson Jr. I really, really like you.”

“I like you too Guinevere Bailey. Now c’mon. We’re wearin’ out our welcome.”

They left the restaurant, and the stars twinkled above them, cradling a bright full moon. Sy took a chance and linked their arms together, much to Gwen’s delight. She took his arm and leaned into him. They walked around historic downtown for a bit, continuing to chat and observing the old, beautiful buildings. By the time they’d made it back to their cars, the time was nearly midnight. They stood outside Gwen’s car, and he looked down at her, tall and towering.

“I had a nice night tonight, Gwen.”

“Me too, Sy. We should do it again sometime soon.”

“We should, and I should start goin’ to the library more often. I think I still got some books that are overdue from the fifth grade.”

“You’re going to get in trouble, Sy.”

“As long as I’m just in trouble with you. Night, Gwen.” Then, “can I kiss you?”

The question surprises her. Not many ask her. So she simply nods before letting out a resounding “yes. I’d like that.”

He leans down slowly, and Gwen’s lips part at the sight. He descends and places the softest kiss right there on her cheek, his beard tickling her jaw. She laughs at his tease, and he pulls back with a wink.

“Didn’t think you meant it like that, Syverson.”

“Hey, I never specified where. Buy me dinner first, and we’ll see where it goes.”

They both laugh again, and they linger. Neither wants to go home. Neither wants to stay. It’s kind of chilly, but neither will say anything if they can help it. It’s Gwen who breaks the silence, though.

“One more for the road? The other cheek’s getting jealous.”

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #syverson fic #syverson fanfiction #syverson #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #my writing.#mine.#ahhh here we go

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rigmarolling · 5 years ago

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Top 5 Things That Will Kill You In the Victorian Era

If you’ve ever spent more than two seconds with me, you know that I live and breathe the fog-choked air of Victorian London. All day. Every day of my life.

See, in many ways, the Victorians were the first version of us--overwhelmed by rapidly-changing technology (and its awful effect on the climate); dealing with incredible wealth gaps; grappling with rising crime and faster travel and out-of-control media and the whole, “God is dead, oh no” thing.

Also, everything was trying to kill you.

Like, literally almost everything.

From your clothes to your doctor to your canned food, here are the top five things that will kill you in the Victorian era.

5. Other Victorians

If the rise of penny dreadfuls (cheap magazines stuffed with horror stories for us morbidly-inclined goth types) was any indication, Victorians loved them some true crime.

And there was no shortage of subject matter to choose from: depending on where you ventured in London, at least, you could be subject to anything from pickpocketing to mugging to violent assault and, of course, murder.

There were a few reasons for this:

For one thing, the population in London alone increased by millions in the 19th century, and approximately no one was prepared for that. So, to accommodate the rapidly-booming population, the wealthy folks in charge reached out and lovingly ensured the masses of the disenfranchised poor were taken care of by redistributing resources and education and access to opportunities that improved lives on a both a personal and social level.

Lol, no, I’m totally kidding; they shoved them into slums and tenement buildings and pretended they didn’t exist.

So of course, there was a rise in crime, because if you have five kids and you can’t find gainful employment and your family will starve if you don’t steal that basket of food over there, or that purse that lady left sitting over THERE, what are you going to do? You’re going to steal the food and the purse to survive, Jean Valjean, I understand, I do.

Except the powers that be did NOT understand, and instead routinely espoused the idea that if people were poor, it was because they were morally bankrupt, or inherently bad, somehow, and the “criminal classes,” as they came to be known by the growing Victorian middle and upper-middle classes, were simply considered genetically bad to the bone and therefore undeserving of assistance.

Basically:

So ANYWAY.

Crime was on the rise and there were multiple efforts to stop it with varying degrees of success, but big city usually = big crime, especially when there’s a massive gap between the one percent-ers and THE REST OF US, WASHINGTON.

Ahem.

All that crime? The booming news industry loved it. The press ate it up and then spit it back out in salacious headlines that never even bothered with journalistic objectivity, like this gem:

I mean. Full disclosure: I, too, agree that cutting off a woman’s head, arms, and legs and then burning them is “awful, inhuman, & barbarous” but just...maybe...maybe tone it down? Just a bit?

No? Okay.

See, here’s the thing: crime sells. It always has. And papers went nuts with full illustrated spreads about the latest brutal murders so you could sit in your parlor and get anxiety poops thinking about how the butcher down the street looked at you funny the other day and oh, God, you’re probably next, oh God.

The most famous murderer of the era, was, of course, Jack the Ripper, which was just the orchestral climax of a hideously corrupted society that had bubbled into naught but a festering carbuncle, an ulcer upon the very soul of man, trussed up as a city of industry, but which is merely Salome, dancing with the Lamb’s head upon a platter and sending us all tumbling into a fiery pit.

....Ahem, again.

Some popular ways your fellow Victorians could kill you included: dueling (with swords but usually with revolvers), stabbing, garroting, and, probably the most popular method of the era, poisoning.

Speaking of which...

4. Anything dyed that hip shade of green

In 1775, a guy named Carl Wilhelm Scheele invented a new shade of green, cleverly called Scheele’s green, and it instantly became a hit. Pretty soon, manufacturers and tailors were dyeing everything this color.

Look at it. Bright, airy. Calls to mind a fresh, spring meadow. (What’s that, you ask? Well, before the Industrial Revolution belched out black smoke onto absolutely everything, there were these things called plants and grass and they were all over the place and you could frolic through them and it was very nice for your serotonin levels.)

I mean, listen, this isn’t really my color because anything vaguely yellow-ish makes my already yellow-ish skin look especially jaundiced, but it’s a lovely shade:

Besides using it to create beautiful dresses and tasteful waistcoats, they used it inside book covers:

And it was a super popular wallpaper color:

They had green candles and green cups and green kitchenwares and green paint.

But while Carl Wilhelm Scheele didn’t exactly murder anyone (even though he has three names like every serial killer ever), he sort of, accidentally, indirectly, kinda...did.

Because that springy dye contained every Victorian black widow’s favorite method to dispose of a troublesome husband: arsenic.

Scheele, of course, had no idea--no one did--so I’m fully exonerating him here, but the poison nonetheless started to take its toll.

Reports began to surface of kids getting sicker and sicker and then dying in their green wallpapered rooms; of fashionable ladies rocking those green dresses at balls and then ALSO getting sicker and sicker and breaking out in horrible sores before dying.

They even used this stuff to dye food green, so of course, anybody who tucked into Victorian green eggs and ham also, you know. Died.

And if they DIDN’T die, they got cancer, because if arsenic doesn’t kill you, it will give you cancer. And then kill you.

Eventually, as science advanced and went, “HEYO, there’s literal poison in this stuff,” consumers were like, “Well, shoot, this summer’s hottest beach shade just killed an entire boarding school,” and Scheele’s green finally fell out of favor.

It was, however, used as a pesticide up through the 1930s, so...way to use the...leftovers? I guess?

3. Your canned food

Hey, now that we’re on the topic of deadly chemicals being where they absolutely should not be, let’s talk about canned food.

In the Victorian era, it was the new Hot Thing (next to arsenic green). You mean I can can my food now? Like? Forever? Oh, only for a few months. Okay, cool. Still cool.

Above: Road trip snax.

Food preservation methods had existed long before canned meats and veggies and soups, but canned everything really started to gain traction around the middle of the 19th century, and people were stoked. Remember, the population exploded; people needed new methods of obtaining cheap food that didn’t spoil immediately. So: cans to the rescue!

Recycling hadn’t really been invented, though, so today, archaeologists constantly find giant Victorian trash pits filled with empty cans.

You know what also hadn’t been invented? Consumer health and safety boards.

So guess what was in the tin cans themselves?

No, no, don’t worry, it wasn’t arsenic.

It was lead.

Which, in case you weren’t aware, is also very, very bad for you.

So bad, in fact, that today, scientists are pretty sure lead-lined tins of canned food were partially responsible for the deaths on the disastrous Franklin Expedition, an ultimately futile trip to discover the Northwest Passage lead by Sir John Franklin in 1845. Every single man on board the two ships stranded in the Arctic died, and in the 1980s, when scientists discovered perfectly mummified bodies (GRAPHIC, if you don’t like that sort of thing, but awesome if you do) of some of the sailors, one of the mummies contained insane amounts of lead. They later tested the cans found scattered across the wreck site and whoops, they also contained insane amounts of lead.

Above: Some of the tin cans from the Franklin Expedition, which contained items like salted beef, vegetables, tea, lethal amounts of lead, and Chicken of the Sea.

Granted, other factors contributed to the Franklin deaths, like, you know, being stranded in the Arctic and starving to death, and also tuberculosis, but lead-lined canned food certainly didn’t help things along.

2. Your doctor

Here’s my advice if you’re in the Victorian era and you’re starting to feel sick: do not get sick. Just don’t. Because then that means you’ll have to go to the doctor. Which probably means you will die.

Hospitals in the 19th century were deadly. Often even more deadly than just staying at home, according to Dr. Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art. Nobody knew how to treat anything, really, because medical understanding of biology was in its infancy and antibiotics didn’t exist yet, so you were absolutely, definitely going to get some kind of infection the second you stepped foot in a Victorian hospital.

Above: The surgery, where nobody has any idea what they are doing, ever.

Doctors weren’t trying to kill you on purpose--they just didn’t know any better. And it super duper didn’t help that common treatments for everything from the common cold to tuberculosis included taking mercury (which kills you) and blood-letting, (which can also kill you) the tools for which are shown below:

Those might look like fun doodads for your astronomy class at Hogwarts, but they’re actually vials and a really, really sharp needle that pricks you until you bleed out a critically dangerous amount of blood into those vials.

The (ancient) school of thought behind blood-letting was that draining patients of “bad” blood would rebalance their “humours” and get rid of the icky thing that was making them sick. We might laugh at it now, but if you don’t know any better, logically, it makes sense.

Medically, oh my God, it’s the worst.

So if Doc didn’t bleed you to death, he might try surgery--done without anesthesia or antibiotics (until good old Dr. Lister came along--read The Butchering Art!), and then ship you and your amputated stump leg off to the hospital ward where, instead of healing, you’d get wheeled through hallways stained with every bodily fluid imaginable into rooms filled with people coughing up every bodily fluid imaginable, some of which would get into your leg stump, infect it, and then kill you dead.

“But what about medicine?” you ask. “Can’t I just take medicine?”

Sure! Just be aware that it definitely contains morphine and probably contains cocaine, or mercury, or arsenic, or sulfur, or pulverized bits of ancient Egyptian mummies (I am not kidding. True, the latter had started to fall out of favor in the 19th century, but, like. Stop).

Above: Hard drugs, but just for you.

You think I’m joking?

Above: PARTY TIME.

Sometimes, a doctor would just advise that you move to a “more temperate climate” like Rome or Spain if you were feeling chronically ill, which might help you get a tan and COULD help if you had sucky lungs, but eventually, you’d just die anyway, because what you really needed was a strong antibiotic or antiviral medication and the closest you were gonna get was Mrs. Hopplebopple’s Temperance Tonic, which was probably filled with ground up baby bones and just so much heroin.

And don’t even get me started on Victorian surgical tools:

Open wide.

1. Water

There are three rules in this life: don’t watch any Adam Sandler movies except for maybe Anger Management, don’t eat the yellow snow, and do not, ever, for any reason, ever drink water in Victorian England.

That’s because it was about as clean as a Victorian hospital.

Meaning it wasn’t. At all.

Victorian water--of the Thames variety--contained:

Cholera, one of the deadliest killers of the era and bad water’s favorite roommate.

Poop, human and otherwise, because a functioning sewer system? I don’t know her. (At least, not until the 1860s.)

Pee, human and otherwise, because nothing says, “Jolly Old England” like an open trench of piss rolling through the city.

Dead things, like animals, fish (which are animals, so why am I listing them as a separate thing?), and, occasionally, humans.

Chemicals, which spewed forth from the great factories in billowing, bubbling, belching rivers of sludge. (Ha! Omg, yes, I was an English major!)

The Thames was so filthy that Londoners called it “Monster Soup.”

Above: Same.

In 1855, scientist Michael Faraday (who was also kind of hot; tell me I’m wrong), wrote a letter to the Times about the disgusting state of the river:

"Near the bridges the feculence rolled up in clouds so dense that they were visible at the surface, even in water of this kind. ... The smell was very bad, and common to the whole of the water; it was the same as that which now comes up from the gully-holes in the streets; the whole river was for the time a real sewer."

Tl;dr: “It smelled like ass.”

In fact, it got so bad, so putrid, so horrifically clogged with every disgusting thing your mind and your butthole can possibly conjure up, that it lead to one of my favorite things to read about in the world: The Great Stink of 1858.

Yes, that’s the real name. I did not make that up. History is incredible.

Above: Summer vacation, 1858.

The summer of 1858 was miserably hot in London. And the Thames was miserably clogged with poop, and pee, and chemicals, and dead things, and, uh oh, cholera. During July and August that year, the smell wafting from the river was so offensive that Parliament was actually adjourned because everybody kept throwing up. Cholera devastated the city. The water was killing London.

Faced with either the prospect of living with a city-wide vomit-and-diarrhea smell for the rest of forever OR finally cleaning things up, the government actually did something right and chose the latter. They contracted civil engineer Joseph Bazalgette to overhaul the city’s sewer, to which Bazalgette, pinching his nose, responded, “FINALLY.”

Above: Joesph Bazalgette, savior of the London sewers and purveyor of a truly beautiful mustache.

Bazalgette proceeded to build the London sewer system still in use today. His efforts greatly reduced the number of cholera deaths, cleared the Thames of its Cronenberg-esque muck, and ensured that poop goes where it’s supposed to: way the hell out of HERE and way the hell under THERE.

Water sanitation still had a long way to go, though, which meant you either had to boil your water to kill the bacteria in it, or you could just drink alcohol instead, which was the safer option but which would also leave you very dehydrated and also, if imbibed excessively, would leave you very dead.

So really, you were doomed in some way no matter what you did, and if that isn’t the moral of the entire Victorian story, then I don’t know what is.

#victorian #listory

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elmaxlys · 3 years ago

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In which Ainosuke and Kiriko met in high-school. Kiriko was that person always studying with few friends, Ainosuke was the rich and cool kid. It was a good private school, quite expensive, Ainosuke's family just payed, Kiriko got in with a scholarship.

Despite his popularity, Ainosuke rarely hangs out with the rest of the class but people don't mind because he sneaks in alcohol and cigarettes or something. The only times he's allowed to stay later is with the excuse of a group project: rare are the students who ever went to his house. He's very secretive and even when they have PE, no one has ever seen him shirtless.

Next to that you have Kiriko, always working her ass off and she's in a one sided rivalry with him over grades. He keeps placing first yet Kiriko knows he fools around all the time so she lowkey hates him.

Idk whether to make it a full AU or a past hc, depending of that it could go different ways.

1) past hc

Because of his background as a politician's son, rich, smart and going to study abroad - yet smoking and drinking whenever possible, and never getting caught by the teachers - Kiriko was suspicious of him as soon as she found out he was going into politics when they met again in uni, immediately branding him with the (future) corrupt politician label.

Because they met again in uni. There, they somehow ended up spending a bunch of time together. This is when Ainosuke started calling her Kamakiri. She always hated that. She thought he was too confident, she hated his attitude so she would have preferred to avoid him but the guy was involved about everywhere. Plus, since his dad was a politician and he was rich af, everyone wanted connections with him. Kiriko was still always studying and working, so that's how Ainosuke remembers her. He knew all along she didn't like him very much but he didn't mind because she always stayed polite and sometimes gave him the benefit of the doubt (that is until she found out he was involved with Takano and bribing cops). Still, he thinks it's funny to mess with her (hence ep6 :3)

2) full Adakiri AU 😊

As long as they're high school student, they don't grow much close. Kiriko is annoyed by him, Ainosuke barely knows she exists - he's more preoccupied with skateboarding and hiding it from his family and she's more interested in keeping her grades up anyway.

Then he's transfered and finishes high-school abroad. Kiriko forgets him, everyone is sad bc he was a useful and charismatic dude.

They meet again in uni. As above, they keep meeting everywhere because everyone wants connexion with the Shindo guy, you know? At first, Kiriko is like great he hasn't changed. But little by little she notices he actually has changed. He still offers to pay when they go eat in groups but he only smokes when he thinks no one can see him, and he rarely ever drinks. She notices that he seems always hyper aware of his surroundings and that his smile is super fake. He doesn't trust, doesn't rely on people. Kiriko is like what the hell happened to him in a year? that's scary. But he always keeps a front and they're not close so she can't really ask him, can she?

Anyway study group session with a bunch of people, it keeps going super late and in the end they're the only ones left awake. They decide to take a break and it's awkward, with just them there. They don't have much in common so to find a subject of conversation they start talking about high school and they talk a good chunk of the night and they're actually having fun. Ainosuke remembers she was nicknamed Kamakiri by their classmates back then and picks it back up. She says she hates him for that but there's no bite.

After that, they start hanging out more often. He's more open about his smoking habits around her, too. She's quite observant so she notices. Their friendship progresses.

After some time, she finds out he likes skateboarding, he teaches her the basics when they're taking breaks from studying. She doesn't like it much but he's having fun. After a while, he invites her to S. She goes by Mantis and doesn't skate herself, she's a spectator and ADAM's friend. She gets to meet Tadashi and she thinks it's weird that even though he clearly disapproves of S he still does whatever Ainosuke wants in regards to it. She doesn't pry further.

They grow up, Kiriko is the 2nd person after Tadashi who knows the truth about him and who sees him unmasked. She doesn't know much about his family, tho. He still becomes a politician, she still becomes a cop. She helps keeping S open. If I keep going it'll morph into EDENMantis so I'm stopping there ❤️

#anxiety acting up so i'm rambling #sk8 the infinity #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #kamata kiriko #adakiri #sk8 fic #sort of #so i can find it again

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muwur · 4 years ago

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haikyuu x otome: masterlist | rules

prologue

» synopsis: a haikyuu x reader au where you, the player, are bound for university in a metropolis several hours away from home. hope and excitement are replaced with dread as you come to realize that juggling life as a student and a part-time employee takes a toll. from demanding classes to a ruthless manager, life just can’t seem to give you a break. that is, until you meet a certain someone who reminds you how to live and follow your dreams. somehow, when you’re with them, time stands still. maybe things are finally starting to look up. if only you could stay in those moments for just a little longer.

» gn reader

» ngl came out longer than i expected but thats ok LMAO,, them otome intros be unnecessarily long too mb; 3.1k words

» note: if u rllyy want u can kinda skip or just skim this, the gist is that you move in n meet like 3 ppl LOL

The train hummed as it zoomed through the landscape, leaving behind the familiar people, sights, sounds, and smells. Yawning, you rubbed your nap away from weary eyes and peered out the window. Just hours ago you had waved a bittersweet farewell to your town, friends, and family, who woke at the crack of dawn to send you off with tight hugs and teary-eyed wishes of good luck.

Your heart lurched at the memory. You’d miss them. In an effort to part happily, you promised to come back for the holidays, call often, and hook your friends up with any cute people you just knew would match them. Glancing down at your phone, you smiled at the excited text messages from your friends. Your fingers tapped away at the keyboard in response.

‘Just woke up from my nap. I think I’m here!’

Outside, buildings scraped the clouds and their windows shined in the light of the afternoon sun. Cars honked, bikes swerved, crowds bustled. On one end of the block, a man on a ladder was painting a sign for his store, while on the other end , a street performer danced energetically in her black shoes. Smoke emitted from a food vendor’s stand, where a man skillfully flipped some meat and vegetables on a stove, even throwing his spatula into the air to entertain his customers. The city was alive.

Stepping off the train, you clutched your belongings and felt a sudden rush of exhilaration. You were finally here. You intended to take a deep breath, in order to take in your first taste of this city’s air, only to stop halfway in a short hacking fit to expel train exhaust from your lungs.

‘That was pleasant,’ you grumbled to yourself, still coughing as you made your way off the platform towards the street. Luckily, Lyft existed. And it was cheaper here! Within minutes of your order, a black Toyota pulled up in front of you. The driver smiled and stepped out of the car, their wavy brown hair bouncing against their shoulders. “Let me help you with those,” they smiled as they offered to take your bags and put them in the trunk.

“Oh, thank you so much!” What a kind person, you thought as you opened the backseat of the car. Ooh.

On second thought, maybe you were too optimistic. Who knew a 10 minute ride could feel so long? It seemed at least twice that much when you were squished in the backseat with some handsy couple. Just your luck, someone was already occupying the passenger seat. Oh well, a minor inconvenience in the name of saving money. All you could do was shift closer to the door, fix your gaze outside the window, and try to ignore the strange purrs coming from your seatmates. A familiar building caught your eye and you let out a sigh of relief when the car came to a stop. You thanked your driver as you stepped out and pulled your bags out of the trunk. Looking back and forth from your phone to the townhouse before you, you had to admit the real thing looked a little more worn down than how it was advertised, but you couldn’t blame them. I mean, your pictures on instagram aren’t exactly the everyday representation of yourself, either.

Aged wood creaked as you hoisted your bags up the front steps. You tapped your knuckles three times against the brown door and rang the buzzer to the landlord’s office.

“Hello? Miss Q?” you asked, hoping the landlord you’ve been contacting for the last two months would answer. “It’s me, y/n, I let you know I’d be coming in today.”

No answer. 15 minutes, a few text messages, and a phone call later, still no response. You groaned. Were you at the right place? Looking back at the address of the building and your location, you were sure this was it. Did Miss Q happen to be out? Or was she napping and just happened to be a heavy sleeper? Maybe her phone died. Whatever the reason, you were stuck out here for the meantime. Shrugging it off, you took a seat on a dusty patio chair and started to scroll mindlessly through your phone to pass the time. Hopefully she’d reply soon.

The screech of a vehicle coming to a stop caught your ear. You looked up to see that the mover’s van you ordered pulled up across the street. Well, at least your things arrived. You stood up and waved to the man driving the vehicle. Making your way to greet and thank him, you helped him unload your things and set them down on the free space in front of the complex, making sure to keep the pathways clear. Placing down the last of the things onto the ground, you wiped the sweat off your brow, tipped the man, and watched him leave.

20 minutes of that and still you remained stuck outside. The late summer sun was beginning to get unbearably warm. Sitting amongst your pile of things, you couldn’t help but groan inwardly at the thought of all the unpacking you had to do. On top of that, classes begin in a week, and you needed to search for a job as soon as possible to help pay the bills.

“Erm, hello? Are you y/n l/n, by any chance?” a gentle voice asked.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice anyone had approached you. He was a fairly tall boy with dark hair half pulled back into a messy bun. Freckles adorned his face, complemented by his soft brown eyes and warm smile. He wore a pair of white shoes, slightly distressed lightwash jeans that were rolled up at the bottom, and a loose fitting, olive button up half tucked into his jeans. In his arms was a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread peeking out.

(I STAN LONG HAIRED/HAIRBUN YAMS SO HARD SO HE’S GONNA HAVE IT OK)

“Yeah, I am! Do you live here?” you responded eagerly, getting up to your feet.

He nodded with a smile. “I do! Apparently Miss Q’s sick and staying at her daughter’s place for now, so her daughter messaged me to help you get settled in. Let me put these groceries away and get your key.”

He disappeared into the townhouse, then returned a few moments later with a key dangling between his fingers. “Miss Q needs a better hiding spot for her spare office key. The plant pot is way too obvious. Anyways, I can show you to your room, now. I’ll help you carry your things up,” he offered.

“That would be great! Thanks again for all your help, otherwise I’d probably have been stuck out here all night,” you said, gently handing him a box to carry.

“Y-Yeah, no problem! Though, Tsukki might’ve let you in if he saw you out here, too. Oh, and my name’s Tadashi Yamaguchi, by the way. Some people call me Yams. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Yams,” you huffed in amusement at his cute nickname. “Call me y/n.” Carrying some boxes, you followed Yamaguchi into the building. Luckily you were on the first floor, second door on the lefthand side. He fumbled with the key, searching for the keyhole before turning the unlocked knob and opening the door.

Much like the outside, the interior of the place was also outdated. You both stood in front of the quaint living area connected to the kitchen. In the back, you could see the hallway leading to the bathroom and your single bedroom. The plain, white walls of the room were illuminated by daylight coming in from the windows on the rightmost wall. You could overlook the worn couch and scuffed dining table, though, considering the place was fully furnished and leased at a great price. Miss Q had even told you both the kitchen and bathroom had actually been remodeled recently.

Going back and forth to take your belongings inside, you thought to get to know your new neighbor. “So, how long have you lived here?”

He pursed his lips in thought and stacked the box he was carrying on top of another one. “Mm, only since the start of summer, actually. My friend and I came here to start university, and one of his favorite museums also happens to be in this city. We come from about 2 hours north of here, though. What about you?”

You set down a particularly heavy bag onto the floor with a grunt. “I’m from a place several hours west of here. I came here for school, too! Are you going to Central University, by any chance?”

“Yeah, I am!” he responded with pleasant surprise and wide eyes. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other on campus, too. Remind me to show you the closest bus stop you can take to get there.” A soft smile formed on his lips.

After finally taking in all your belongings, you collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion. Your eyes flickered over to the brunette, whose chuckle you could hear from across the room. “Long day?” he asked, settling into a spot next to you.

Groaning, you replied, “I’ve been up since 5 am to do some last minute packing and catch my train.”

“Yikes. Sounds early.”

“Tell me about it.”

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Curious, he piped up with another question. “So, what made you decide to move all the way out here?”

“Hmm,” you began. “Well, I wanted to settle into a new, unknown place, y’know? Explore the world a little more and see what it’s like out here. Be on my own for the first time.”

Yamaguchi nodded thoughtfully in understanding. “I get you. My best friend and I kinda came here for the same reasons. We wanted to expand our worlds a bit. I’ve only been here a few months, and already so much has happened. You’ll definitely get to explore and experience a lot in this city. Things are always busy around here...” he trailed off, checking a notification on his phone that just dinged with a new message. His brown gaze flickered back to you. “Ooh, would you like to have a drink with my friend and I at my place? I live in the room right across from here. You seem like you need a break.”

You could feel your lips curve upwards. “I’d really enjoy that, actually.”

Thus you found yourself in your new friend’s apartment, sinking comfortably into his black beanbag chair, a bottle of cold lemonade in your hand. Taking another refreshing swig, your eyes traveled over to the blonde seated next to Yams on their tan sofa. You could hardly feel welcome when the first words that came out of his mouth after seeing you was a disgruntled “you brought someone here?”, which made Yamaguchi smack the back of his friend’s head.

“They’re our new neighbor, Tsukki! Be more welcoming,” he chided with a roll of his eyes. “Y/n, this is Kei Tsukishima. Tsukki, this is y/n.”

He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Yamaguchi. The blonde sighed, extending a hand out towards you. “Tsukishima. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Erm,” you tried to smile, “nice to meet you, too, Tsukishima. Just call me y/n.”

‘How is someone as sweet as Yams best friends with this dude?’

He couldn’t be all bad, you reasoned. Maybe he was just having a bad day,,, or always having a bad day. Regardless, even if your first impression was kinda substandard and underwhelming, you hoped you’d get along. He seemed like the type to need to get to know someone before warming up to them.

You set the empty bottle atop their maple coffee table. Two hours had creeped by, consisting mostly of lighthearted exchanges between you and Yamaguchi, with a brief, occasional response from Tsukishima. He spent most of the time flipping through the pages of a novel and lightly tapping its hardcover to the beat of whatever he was listening to on his headphones. Yamaguchi suggested getting delivery from a Thai place he liked a few blocks away, and even insisted on covering the cost for you.

“No, you really don’t have to..! I appreciate the offer, though,” you pleaded.

He shook his head, smiling as he tapped away at postmates on his phone. “Don’t worry about it.” He logged in both your orders and nudged Tsukishima with his elbow. “What do you want?”

Pushing up his glasses, Tsukishima leaned over to look at his friend’s phone screen. A few moments passed before he pulled away and said, “Pad Kee Mao sounds good.”

30 minutes later and there was a ring at the front door. A voice on the buzzer sounded. “I have a delivery for, uh.. Tadashi!”

“Looks like they’re here,” Yamaguchi said as he stood up. You followed him out to the main entrance. Behind the door was a boy with tousled orange hair and bright brown eyes, carrying a plastic bag filled with takeout boxes. “Here you go!” he exclaimed as he handed you the order. He peered at the brunette beside you, his face scrunching in thought before lightening up with clarity. “Hey, you were with the guy I crashed into the other day! I-Is he okay by the way? Sorry, I was in a really big rush...!”

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise and eyes widening with familiarity, Yamaguchi nodded, “Oh yeah, I remember that! Don’t worry, he’s alright, just bitter and annoyed. I’m glad you seem to be okay, as well.”

The redhead scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and looked down at his scuffed shoes. “Ah, thanks! Um, is he around? I’d like to apologize for yesterday...”

Yamaguchi smiled. “I’ll go grab him,” he said briefly before heading back to his apartment.

The delivery boy sighed with relief. “Man, I felt really bad about that yesterday...” he muttered. He looked back up, his eyes brightening when they met yours. “My name’s Shoyo Hinata! People usually call me Hinata.”

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, offering your hand. He shook hands with you a bit too vigorously, and you nearly dropped the food held in your other arm. “Are you new around here?” he asked.

“Hah, is it that obvious?” you joked.

“Nahh, just a wild guess. You’re just really refreshing, is all! Most of the people I meet seem burnt out, but I don’t blame them. We’ve all got busy lives. Talking to you is nice, though! I haven’t learned any customer’s names, well, since I started working! Then again, it’s only been two months... Anyways, where you from? I was born and raised here.”

If anything, you thought Hinata was the refreshing one. A tad talkative, but refreshing nonetheless. He effused a radiance that matched his vivid hair. “I’m from *insert place here*, a few hours west of here. I just arrived today!”

Before he could give you a response, however, you both heard footsteps approaching. You could recognize Tsukishima’s voice muttering a low “let’s get this over with” from behind you. Now standing at the doorframe, the blonde towered over Hinata. His countenance displayed obvious annoyance. However, he maintained his composure, pressed his finger against the bridge of his nose, and sighed out, “What do you want?”

Hinata bowed. “I’m sorry I crashed into you with my bike the other day! I was rushing to volleyball practice and I wasn’t looking. It was my fault.”

Eyes narrowing, Tsukishima allowed several moments of silence to achingly pass before letting out a small huff. “Fine. Apology accepted.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned around to return to his room. “Watch where you’re going next time, idiot. You’d better hope you don’t run into me again.” A door shut.

‘That was quick.’

Hinata looked up to watch him leave and straightened his form again. Lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, he crossed his arms across his chest. “Geez, what’s his deal?” Yamaguchi cast him an apologetic look. “Ah, he’s just like that. He appreciates the gesture, though.”

A high-pitched ding caught your attention. “Ah, I gotta go make another delivery! It was nice to meet you all!”

Quickly grabbing a bill out of your pocket, you stopped Hinata mid-step. “Wait! Here, please take this. Thanks for the food!”

He accepted the tip from your hands, looking back and forth between you and the money. “Wow, thank you so much! I really hope to see you around. Have a great night!” With a final smile and wave, he bounded off the porch steps towards his bike, hopped on, then disappeared down the street.

After having dinner and exchanging contact information with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you thanked them for having you over and retired back to your room. Drained, you only had enough energy to make up your bed and unpack your bathroom essentials. You trudged into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, weariness was evident in your dull gaze. ‘Ugh, I can’t wait to sleep,’ you thought as you turned the sink on. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin and livened your senses. You brushed your teeth before retreating to your bedroom and changing into a comfier pair of clothes.

You checked the time on your phone. How was it only 11 PM? The darkness, coupled with your exhaustion, made it seem at least three hours ahead. You plugged the phone in to charge and set it down on the bedside table. ‘No need to set an alarm,’ you thought, ‘I just wanna sleep.’

You took a few minutes to stare at the dark ceiling overhead, thinking about all the new changes coming your way. New faces, cool food, and exciting places. Hopefully you had some time these first few weeks to explore and familiarize yourself with the city. Excitement mixed with a prick of anxiety as you thought about how you could manage on your own. However, you had faith in your independence. You would be okay. Besides, there were friendly people out here like Yamaguchi, Hinata, and maybe Tsukishima who you could trust if you ever needed help.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off into a deep slumber. You lazily woke up the following morning, yawning with outstretched arms. ‘That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages,’ you thought as you sat up. It was half an hour before noon. The sun shone brightly through your windows, whose curtains were left undrawn. ‘Surprised that the light didn’t wake me up sooner.’ A loud honk made you jump in your seat. ‘Or the noise.’

You drew your legs over the side of the bed and took in the state of your room. Surrounded by stacked boxes and luggage, you were reminded what you came here for. Anticipation collected in your chest. This was the start of the life you’ve been waiting for the past few years.

‘We’re gonna make the best of this, y/n.’

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seiin-translations · 4 years ago

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2.43 S1 Chapter 4.3 - Drifting Yunichika

3. IN-AND-OUTER

Just continuing to wing all the volleyball jargon here cuz i have no idea what’s going on

Translation Notes

1. Don’t know if there are English equivalents for these terms, but the Japanese uses terms like 表レフト (omote-left) and 裏レフト (ura-left), where omote refers to the aces of the team, who are put in the front row for as long as possible, and the ura refers to the players diagonal to them

2. A broad attack is basically where the spiker approaches and jumps towards the net when they hit

3. Pipe in volleyball refers to a back row set aimed at the middle of the court

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He had lied to Haijima about one thing.

Just before he entered the training camp, he received an email from Yorimichi for the first time in a long while. I’ll be back home in August, so let’s have some fun. Then call me when I don’t have practice. That was about all they exchanged back and forth, but he somehow failed to bring that up. Kuroba didn’t think that hanging out with Yorimichi was in itself a bad thing. He wasn’t going to go along with his smoking and drinking and riding double on a bike with no helmet like he used to. Even he had already learned to be sensible about that. He loved volleyball, his team was important to him, and he had self-awareness as a member of a sports team. …And yet, Haijima talked like he flat-out didn’t trust him.

Ah…geez, I’m feeling kinda gloomy.

“I’m getting a second helping of rice.”

When he stood with his empty bowl in one hand and a sullen look on his face, Uchimura, sitting across from him, looked disheartened.

“After eating so much meat yesterday, how can you eat again in the morning? I’m still not very hungry.”

“That stuff all got digested when I ran at night. Maybe you should have gone for a run too, Senpai?”

“I’ll have to decline, since I’m not so young anymore,” his senpai said like he was an old man, despite the fact he was only a year older than him.

The school cafeteria was usually open to students only at lunch time and only to faculty and staff in the morning, but during summer vacation, breakfast was prepared for club members using the boarding house. In addition, special meals were offered to members of the athletic clubs, which was much appreciated. The morning special for today was the combo of grilled fish and deep-fried chicken. The after-meal fruits were bananas and oranges. They were free to get second helpings of rice.

When he opened the lid of the six-litre gas rice cooker, the only remaining amount of rice was the rice grains sticking to the inside of the rice cooker.

“Ma’am, there’s no more rice!”

He hit the edge of the iron pot with the rice scoop and called out to the kitchen. “How much white rice can you all eat? There are students from other clubs coming for lunch, so please hold back a little.” A small old lady in an apron powerfully carried a stainless steel cauldron to replace the empty pot. White steam was rising from the pot where freshly cooked white rice was glittering.

When Kuroba left the rice cooker after piling a mountain of rice into his bowl, Okuma and Oda were lined up behind him looking like this was perfectly natural. Aren’t these two on their third bowls?

He returned to the table where Uchimura was, poured the natto over his rice and started eating his second bowl. Uchimura was also not lacking in appetite, and even though he was talking about something or other, he stored everything in his stomach without leaving a single grain of rice or a piece of vegetable on his plate, and he was about to peel an after-meal orange.

“I have no complaints about your stamina. But your mental strength though… Can’t you do something about it?”

“…I know that. You don’t have to tell me.”

“And? What happened to your partner with the mental strength of steel?”

“That’s how you’re comparing us…? Haijima’s still sleeping.”

Last night, he and Haijima were dragged out of the boarding house, and the two of them were made to do twenty dashes on the slope between the mountain and the school. In the darkness of night where there was only moonlight, they could only hear each other’s dying breaths as they dashed up the slope, pitching forward and almost falling, then staggering downhill, and repeat. Every drop of his urge to make merry with his school trip-like mood had been wrung out of him, and he fell asleep in an instant as soon as he collapsed onto his futon after he finally returned to the boarding house, where everyone was already completely asleep. As expected of Aoki-senpai, he had felt.

He woke up this morning feeling hungry as usual because he had recovered his strength after sleeping, but Haijima hadn’t recovered yet, and he was still lying flat on his futon as though he was dead. It’s not like one of our senpais came to keep an eye on us, and they wouldn’t have known if you had cut down on the number of dashes… He wasn’t that kind of flexible guy. When it came to volleyball, Haijima seemed to “not want to lose to anyone,” not just in practice, but also in preparation and cleaning, and he didn’t cut corners. Well, I think that part of him is pretty admirable, but he only has two hands, so there are times when you just gotta cut those corners.

“Haijima doesn’t have much stamina, right? I guess he’s not perfect.”

Uchimura tilted his head while tossing an orange into his mouth.

“That guy has plenty of flaws.”

When Kuroba answered sullenly, a plastic tray was placed on the table with a bang.

“O-Oh, Haijima. Good morning.”

Uchimura pulled himself away from the table, flinching slightly.

“…’Sup.”

With a sour expression like there was a sign reading “low blood pressure” pasted to it, Haijima pulled the chair next to Kuroba. His club activity switch still wasn’t flipped, so he was wearing his glasses, and his thin bangs were bouncing in a strange way due to his bed hair. When Kuroba somehow failed to speak up and kept silent, Haijima also kept silent towards him and began to bring his food to his mouth with his eyes mostly closed and a face that looked like he was about to throw up. He spiked with his left and right hands, but he basically used his left hand for holding pencils and chopsticks.

Kuroba, who had been wolfing down his second bowl of rice without a care in the world, slowed down his eating speed to match Haijima’s, thinking that it would look like he had an easier time even though they ran the same amount.

“You don’t look so good, you know? Don’t force yourself to eat if you can’t eat. Just eat a banana or something. I’ll eat one too.”

“I’m just sleepy from all the sleeping time I lost. I can eat.”

Haijima was strangely stubborn towards Uchimura’s concern for him, and he greedily shoveled down the rice that he had been slowly bringing to his mouth with so much vigor that he had to wash it down with miso soup. Is he doing this out of spite…? No wait, I have stuff I’m annoyed with him about too. Kuroba wasn’t happy with him. But Haijima didn’t even notice his dissatisfaction anyways.

He felt like an idiot and began energetically moving his chopsticks again. The fatigue in his body was reset after he woke up from sleep, and he planned to show his best performance today, but the gloomy feelings in his heart still haven’t cleared up.

Uchimura shrugged his shoulders at the two who were tilting their bowls and turning their chopsticks like they were competing against each other, then said, “I’ll be leaving, then,” before taking his tray and quickly leaving the table.

*** Kuroba’s position was the so-called “front-left” among left-side players, and it was considered the ace position in high school volleyball. Oda was the back-left, diagonal from him. (1) The left-side players, who took on a large percentage of the team’s total attacks and hit from both the front row and back, generally had the most number of hits. Aoki was the front center, and the back center who was diagonal to him was Okuma, who they were trying to polish at a quick pace. The right-side position that was diagonal to the setter Haijima was filled by Kanno. The left and right-side attackers, as well as the centers, were the so-called “attacker” positions.

The basic six-person team composition was two left-side players, two centers, and two right-side players. Due to the rotation, front row and back row players often changed places, attackers in the same positions were placed diagonally from each other so that the front row’s height and offensive power were maintained. The ability to receive in the back row was also necessary for the left and right positions. Receiving formations were the key to using more difficult combination attacks.

There was also a player in a special position called a libero. He mainly replaced a center player, who retreats to the back row, and played a central role in receptions (serve receive) and digs (spike receive). It was this position that did the miraculous dive in the middle of a rally. Hokao was this libero. And Uchimura was like a jack-of-all-trades who could step in if there was a shortage of people. There was no way Seiin could afford to have a reserve for each position.

They spent the afternoon of their second day of training camp practicing combo attacks. Two to four attackers went onto the court and coordinated a team play together with the setter Haijima. Although he had many thoughts about Haijima, Kuroba called out to him for a set. “Alright, over here!” Haijima glanced at him. He felt like he had an annoyed look on his face.

Haijima ignored Kuroba, and—also skipped Aoki, who also jumped for a C quick, before jump back setting the ball to Kanno, who ran right up to the antenna on the right side. The precision of Haijima’s back set was so unchanged from when he set from the front that it made one wonder if he had eyes on the back of his head. Quick attacks ranged from A quicks to D quicks, with A being the closest to the left side from the setter’s set position. B was a little farther. C was the closest to the right side with a back set, and D was a little farther. A combination attack was when another attacker got involved with the decoy quicker and disrupted the opponen’s blocking. Of course, there were times when a set went to the quicker. It was the setter’s chance to show what they could do by putting together a tactic that made full use of all the attackers on the court and make the most optimal set at each moment.

That’s what Haijima talked about yesterday. A combo with a center’s C quick and a right side’s broad jump—.

A sharp spike was driven in with a slap from the right side.

Kanno-senpai is so good…he marveled inwardly. He was an attacker whose special qualities were his fast swings and good control, and he was also good at getting around blockers (there was a suspicion that the blockers momentarily forgot his existence because he had such a weak presence). The right side also jumped to a double quick along with the center. A wide-ranged broad attack (2) was also required. Many times, a player who is a consistent receiver would be put in the position. It was a position that required the ability to be an all-rounder. Kanno wasn’t assertive, but he reliably executed the role that was given to him without hesitation. It seemed that Haijima also had a high opinion of Kanno. A guy who fundamentally didn’t communicate with other people always said a few words to him and made minor corrections after each set.

He called the set with all his might and when he was ignored, he felt that he was being lame, so he was determined to make up for it by hitting a big one as soon as possible.

But that didn’t go according to plan. After that, Haijima didn’t set to Kuroba at all. Not even a single one after several hours of play. It seemed that today, Haijima’s interest was in creating a combo between the centers and the right-side players.

Halfway through practice, he stopped calling for the sets and his jumping became half-hearted, which made Oda angry with him several times. “Kuroba—. Concentrate more. Even if a set doesn’t go to you, look around and think about your next move.”

“…I know that.”

When he answered with a rebellious attitude, Oda shrugged his shoulders like he had no idea what to do and made a proposition to Haijima. “Haijima, why don’t you try another combo after you finish this one? The pipe (3) might be faster if you do it with Kuroba.” He didn’t like the way he talked like he was obviously fussing over him. Even though we’re both first-years, it’s like only Haijima is special…I don’t disagree that he is special, but he doesn’t even seem to notice how much he’s valued by the captain, much less be thankful. The things that he was happy to be told about yesterday strangely got on his nerves today.

Though Haijima looked extremely annoyed at having cold water thrown on the practice he was taking part in, this was the first time in a long while he looked over at him.

“Kuroba.”

His body reflexively stiffened at being called. Haijima put his hands on his hips, kicked the floor with his heel once, sighed, and then spoke.

“There’s no point in you being here, so just get out of here.”

“Hah…!?”

His voice cracked at the sudden discharge notice.

“Wha, you…Don’t get too full of yourself, is a setter really dropping an attacker because of a personal grudge?”

“Grudge?” This guy looks like he has no idea what that means.

“You’re still mad that you had to run because of me.”

“I’m not gonna be picky for a stupid reason like that. Are you an idiot?”

This guy really put an emphasis on the first syllable of “idiot”. Don’t play blind to your stupidity! He really is such an unpleasant guy.

“So why…”

He grabbed Haijima’s arm and pressed him for an answer. Haijima’s face twisted slightly as he glared back at him aloofly. He looked and saw that he had put too much strength into his fingers and they were digging into Haijima’s arm, turning the skin there white.

He clicked his tongue and dropped Haijima’s arm as though it was on fire.

“Uchimura-senpai, could you please do receiving practice with me?”

He turned on his heel and left the court with long strides. “Huh? Alright,” Uchimura answered in puzzlement and followed him. “That moodiness of his…” The mutters of his senpais, who seemed to have given up on him, hurt his back, so he couldn’t turn back to the court anymore. I’m not the bad guy here…While frustration welled up within him, he pushed the ball cage to a corner of the gym. If he were to roll this thing with all his strength and smash it against the wall, it would dissipate a little, but that wasn’t going to happen, so he had no choice but to use all his self-control and push it with normal force.

The training camp that had been fun until the first night had suddenly become boring. Was this payback for getting carried away by feeling like he was on a school trip, just as Haijima said? He wasn’t really getting carried away. He had been plenty fired up for working hard at practice. That was all gone now with Haijima’s attitude.

He was the one who joined the team in April, but Haijima, who joined later, became an indispensable member of the team from that point on, and their senpais yielded to him. More than anything, Oda was captivated by Haijima. When it became like that, now that Nagato was gone, he was the only one treated like a halfway middle schooler, and not acknowledged as a necessary part of the team.

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#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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