#that shit has made me so cynical and i wish i had moved away when i had the chance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mangodestroyer · 6 months ago

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Sorry, this ended up being long:

Goodness! I'm so sorry to hear about your husband! It's one thing when your family treats you like that growing up, another when the friends you picked out as a child also happened to be like that, and yet another when your workplace ends up being shit (because let's face it, a lot of workplaces have at least one bad apple, and some fields just run on toxicity). I mean... there isn't much you can do to control how you pay for your bills (in this job market and economy), nor the environment you were raised in. But when you end up PICKING a toxic person as your life partner? Uuuuuughhhhhh! That's a whole new level of FUCK THIS SHIT!

You've followed me for a while and probably already know about my past relationship. Which was thankfully not even two years long. I know how easy it is to get sucked into something like this. Usually, it's because we've normalized toxic behaviors because of our childhoods. We overlook the red flags as a result and ignore our gut.

These people also don't show their true colors right away. Not sure how your relationship progressed over the years. My ex was super nice and almost a little too into everything that I was into. Not a pink flag until three months in. It wasn't until six months after knowing each other that we started dating. The nice act began to slip and the red flags were EVERYWHERE. There was a moment when I reconsidered, but then shrugged it off as "they can't be perfect." and "Maybe this just isn't their thing." We started out rping some things that were... unconventional but harmless (from the moment we met), and the thing that made me think about leaving was when they suddenly said, "Can we stop rping about this? It's really weird." After initially seeming to be really into it for weeks and I mean, it's okay to change your mind and say you're no longer interested, but why call it weird? And conveniently once I was dating them and invested? Well, I shrugged it off and decided that maybe they just weren't as into it as I thought they were. There were other things we seemed to have in common anyway. Until about a year later from this point. Then there wasn't a single thing we had in common. Literally... everything I liked was suddenly a huge, disgusting taboo in their eyes. Even the most innocent things, like food, arts and crafts that wouldn't have even been messy, and... TV shows about animals? Somehow I was always at odds with them and the dynamics became the opposite of everything I would have liked in a relationship. I would also constantly hear about all the things that were wrong with me. And how I'm terrible. To the point where I will supposedly get beaten up for the way I am. They straight-up acted like I was the worst thing that happened to them. Some misfortune far worse than their mother, who they always complained about. As if this relationship was forced upon them and they couldn't just break up with me? We didn't even get in deep enough for leaving to be complicated... So I just ended up snapping one day and ending it.

Nope, you can't take the years back. Yeah, sometimes I too wish I could go back in time and do it differently. But... better to realize it now than never! And seriously, the sooner the better. 29? You still have PLENTY of time, my friend! At least we are realizing this shit in our 20s, rather than ending up like one of those old people, married to their spouse for DECADES, only to get a cancer diagnosis and to watch the loser bail. And all that trouble for nothing, huh? Not to get so cynical, but it really could be so much worse.

And well... same for all the other stuff too. Some people go their whole lives never fully addressing their trauma. It's dumb luck that we happen to exist during a time when knowledge of this has become more widespread.

I'm not sure what you plan on doing from this point forward. You might need some time to recover from what happened. Once you're out for good. I actually moved out of my childhood home three months ago. At the ripe age of 24. It's... been going a lot better than I expected... I've already started picking up better habits and feel a lot more awake and aware. I'm almost completely alone now. Just living with whatever strangers happen to pass by. No one gives a crap about my existence. My siblings also decided they don't want anything to do with me (my brother HAS been a problem for over a decade, but I was shocked to find that my sister straight-up resents me... so if she wants space she can have at it because I'm tired of hearing it from her too). Seriously, it's okay. I can just not have people in my life. No, it's not entirely okay. I still sometimes wish I had some close connections... but at what cost? I then sometimes remember some of the things we just discussed, then glance at my bookshelf and tablet, at my kitchen, at my roommate who doesn't bother me... and what exactly am I missing out on? I have so many things here that make me happy. And they're allowed to exist out in the open without judgment. Nobody cares to scrutinize them because... nobody cares! But with a close relationship? Compromise, judgment, scrutiny, being pushed to do things I don't like, arguments, resentment... I just can't do it anymore! This is the first time in my life I can truly be free! I can own whatever I want... go where I want... DO what I want... it's no one's problem but my own!

Idk, maybe I really was selfish after all. Maybe I really am too much. Maybe I am really too... whatever! None of that matters now because it's just ME! I only have my own living expenses to worry about now... so who cares if I indulge and live however I want?

Downsides? Living with a partner can be cheaper in theory. Actual healthy relationships are beneficial for so many reasons. No one to split the cost with when it comes to vacations... or to just have that company. I mean... I didn't want to do my dream vacation of traveling the world by myself. But if I must... I'm not going to wait any longer for "the right person" to materialize! Or meet someone and know them for a long while... only to find that they changed their mind about wanting to travel/they decide to sabotage the experience (oh, and people have done this on trips!) And yeah, relationships can provide safety nets... but again, not when they're unhealthy! I mean... intimacy too. That's likely not something I'm ever going to have. But I've lived this long without it. Seems to me like a lot of partners are incompatible/shit at it anyway/straight-up disrespectful and/or dangerous. I'll stick with fanfiction, thanks!

I might even adopt a house cat at some point. They're good company!

Is there anyone else out there who just... can NOT express their true selves around others?

I feel like I've spent so many years of my life developing a personality that's more "palatable" and "acceptable" to others. I cannot, for the life of me, share the vast majority of my interests. Nor the vast majority of my thoughts and opinions with others. The only time I can actually feel comfortable being myself is when I'm hiding while using a device.

Idk if this will ever change tbh. I've had it happen too many times where people would act interested in knowing what I like... only to turn around and shame and humiliate me over it. For YEARS. And those same people now tell me that I'm boring and have no interests. I mean... this straight-up happened in so many settings with so many different people. I get that I have unconventional tastes in things but... damn!

People are allowed to know that I am very open-minded when it comes to food. I can cope with hearing that people think some of the things I eat are "too spicy" because yeah, lots of people just seem to be sensitive to certain foods. And I think it's cool that I can enjoy these foods. However... the idea of sharing my favorite music can cause me to have a mental breakdown.

And unfortunately, I'm now finding that people assume I must not like them if I'm not open with them. That's not true! But I can see where the lack of trust is hurtful.

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mcmansionhell · 4 years ago

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Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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hanibalistic · 3 years ago

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#FFD500 | PARK JISUNG.

genre | fluff, meet cute au, strangers au

word count | 1781

warning | smoking

with suit and tie, styled hair, minimal makeup, and a heavy name on his back, jisung realized he could not do it. he could not bring himself to enter the main scene of high school prom.

nervous sweat drenched his hands and he hastily wiped away at the side of his hips. the blinking neon lights coming through the small windows of the assembly hall doors, and the loud blasty music that belonged to none other than his very own idol group made him feel isolated in this dark, empty school hallway he has barely walked across since he got accepted into the school.

there was no point in this. there was no point in attending. donghyuck had encouraged him the most when he was debating whether he wanted to go to prom; he said it could help with blowing off some steam, and there might even be a possibility of meeting someone eccentric, like how he did when he decided to attend prom two years back. jisung had believed him, and now he realized he should not have.

he barely attended school because of his conflicting schedule as a worldwide idol. logically speaking, he shouldn't even be allowed to graduate with the number of absences in his record, but he did so with flying colors anyway. he was everyone's friend and he has no friends; there would be no one to talk to inside, and the clear superiority in accomplishment he held might make things embarrassing and awkward for him.

he understood why donghyuck would deem his experience at his prom great. it was because he knew how to talk, he knew how to charm, and he was never shy around people. jisung believed his story when he talked about the student he frantically danced with under artificial lights. for donghyuck, having met someone eccentric was merely a fortunate coincidence, if not a miracle that he met someone exactly like him.

jisung was nothing like that. he knew he was nothing like that. dealing with strangers, let alone the mysteriously off ones, was never his forte. he would just make a fool of himself, he would not be having a good time.

going to prom was a bad idea. he should leave.

"jesus–watch it!"

"ah..." his voice dimmed as he immediately turned toward the direction of where the explosive voice came from. his hurrying steps halted to a stumble before a stop, and he eyed you up and down carefully before he dipped his head. "sorry... i–i didn't mean to scare you."

"i wasn't scared, just startled," you retorted quickly, but your voice was much calmer than your initial snap. tapping the lit cigarette in your hand lightly with your index finger, you mumbled as you eyed him with mild curiosity after your angry brows faded, "you came out in a hurry. forgot you had an award show to attend to, hmm?"

"oh–no, it's not that–" jisung paused abruptly, he wasn't sure why. when you raised a brow at him, almost impatiently it seemed, he gulped down a nervous knot and scratched the back of his head. "sorry, i just.. i didn't think you would know me."

you blinked at him as you swiped your tongue against your teeth, clicking with what jisung could not tell was menace or disinterest. either way, they were both bad. taking a short puff of the cigarette, you exhaled a cloud of smoke before you mused, "who said i know you, park jisung?"

he gulped, visibly distraught and confused.

"you just said–"

"i just what?"

he gulped again when his meek sentence was cut off so quickly. not even his brothers have interrupted him like this before, at least not with the genuine intention to anyway. it seemed that at this moment, he further came to the realization just how well he was taken care of by everyone around him, because could such a simple jab to a social interaction cause him such anxiety if he was used to it?

(he was glad he wasn't used to it.)

"what is a hotshot like you doing here anyway?" you fired the sudden question, looking to him with intrigue.

you were never one to engage in idol activities. you weren't even in this school to become an artist; you were forced here by your parents who stood somewhere in the industry. one day they realized you had the voice and the range to deserve the spotlight, and here you were stuck in those shit-ugly, overdue-banana-colored uniforms, trying to be a star you didn't want to be.

but jisung—you knew jisung. everybody knew jisung. your classmates, the teachers, that random american tourist who asked you for directions in the street, that kpop warrior online who kept screenshots of netizen articles and translating them out of context. everybody knew jisung, but very few knew him enough.

you didn't care much for him, but your curiosity just had to be fulfilled now that you were seeing him in person. what was he doing here, in a suit and sweating through his hair? did he always talked this shyly or was it your typical idol persona act? were you scaring him and should you do it even more to purposefully leave a bad impression?

your stare was confronting in this silence. granted, it was his turn to speak, so he was at blame for your lingering gaze on him. "i thought... i thought maybe i could go to prom," he finally replied quietly.

you hummed in acknowledgment, then you tilted your head. you looked behind your shoulder into the school, your eyes briefly grazing past the colorful doors that were the entrance to literal teenage hell, and you jabbed your thumb toward the direction. "prom is that way, though, dumbo."

"i know that," jisung said, embarrassed. "i just... i don't have friends."

you laughed, and once again jisung couldn't tell if you were genuinely amused or it was a response of mockery. inhaling carefully, you longing exhaled the smoke as your dazed eyes looked past him, with a smile so vague it seemed unnatural.

"what are you talking about? you've got friends. you got friends everywhere!"

"i... i don't?"

"sure you do!" you exclaimed boldly as you stretched your arms out to the sky, eyes ablaze at the stars above. "they are everywhere for you, jisung. you got friends everywhere because everyone wants to be your friend. you have options, you are just not taking them!"

"but they're not–" he licked his lower lip nervously, feeling a sense of sorrow cast over him upon the teenage loneliness he gained in trade for his success. "they're not real friends."

you paused.

real friends?

you paused; motions stopped, arms empty without strength, and eyes hallow with confused questioning. you stared at jisung as if he was a foreign creature who had said something absurd, so absurd you had to decide whether you wanted to ridicule him or interrogate him first.

what are real friends, anyway?

people who love you but do nothing about it, people who say they love you but do not, people who act upon loving you but do not? people who leave you alone at a bad time because you asked them to, people who would not leave you alone at a bad time even if you asked them to, people who knew how to juggle in between? people who comfort you because they understood you, people who advise because they could not understand you, people who try to relate to you because it was what they knew to be comfortable?

which one of those was real? were any of them fake simply because you didn't like it? when did you get crowned the decision-maker?

what are real friends, anyway? why does it matter, anyway?

why does truth matter if the lies treat you so well?

when you made up your mind to do both, you began to move fluidly again. your lips opened to breathe, and you chuckled sardonically at his naivety.

"what do you need the realness for? lies are lies only if it bothers you, essentially meaning you don't really need the absence of lies," you said. "who cares about real friends, you just need friends. don't you think you are expecting too much from humanity?"

there was sympathy in jisung that he did not know had risen. the basis of the situation, of why you came to the conclusion that people were less than gentle and kind, he knew nothing of but he was sorry for. whether something has happened in your life, or if you simply grew to be cynical, the lack of tiny joys in life must be a terrible feast.

he also knew he hasn't the energy and wit to argue himself to victory; his humanism, the desire to prove that people are good because his people have been good, would not be enough to shake you.

"shouldn't you stop smoking?" he asked, promptly changing the subject.

you removed the cigarette from your mouth, brows furrowed in annoyance now that the attention was directed toward you. you exhaled the smoke slowly from your throat, and you tilted your head up to the sky where you gently said, "maybe not. i just can't seem to die."

your god-given voice just wouldn't let off.

"do you plan to go back in after then? smelling like smoke?" he asked.

"don't mock me boy." you grinned with a glare hanging off the corner of your mouth. "and no, i am not going back in. i don't have friends, but unlike you, i just don't have friends because i am a raging asshole."

jisung finally breathed out a giggle, but it was abruptly short. he covered his mouth and lowered his head, only peeking up at you occasionally. "well, if it's any consolation, i don't think you're all that bad."

your eyes fluttered as you silently tapped your cigarette. he was just as you expected but a little more. you could understand why people like him so much now; his innocence wasn’t a drag, it was a charm.

you gave him a silent but thankful smile before you looked away. "yeah. thanks."

jisung thought you looked less angry now; eyes at the stars, wishful and longing to be above. the blush that blossomed on his cheeks remained despite the faded nervousness, maybe it was because he felt a fondness toward you he usually wouldn't toward the people he spend his time around; you were a classmate, someone his age, someone who could understand him if allowed.

an eccentric stranger that donghyuck suspected he might meet.

maybe it was a good idea that he never went to prom.

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

part one: “you want to sleep on the floor”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: university student y/n, implicit nsfw, fluff and language

word count: 3400+

a/n: this is dedicated to the one anon who was super sweet to me yesterday, all of your support means the world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed this

summary: in which you’re neighbours with pro hero katsuki bakugo, one night your roommate and her boyfriend get a bit too loud, with no where else to turn you end up in the apartment of bakugo’s, sleeping beside him you both realise the hidden feelings between one another

part two

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The bed squeaked and headboard banging against the wall, moans filled the apartment and the sound of ongoing thrusts erupted out of one single room. You hadn’t slept in hours, the sound from your roommates room vibrating against the whole apartment.

What was even worse, was not just having both your rooms side by side, meaning every time the man thrusted back and forth inside of her you could hear her bed hit the wall, no it wasn’t just that, it was the fact this had been going on for hours now.

You saw the digital clock indicate three am, how could one couple go at it for two hours straight, better yet who gets horny at one am and thinks lets having a fuck session whilst their roommate is next door.

Well your friend clearly did, it wasn’t like you wanted to interrupt them, they hadn’t seen each other in a while and deserved something. But at the expense of your sleep, it was a lot more than you had expected. You had prayed they would stop but the moans of his name continued, and it seemed like they would never stop anytime soon.

You swung your legs off your bed, yawning as the stars filled the sky, you would go to the balcony, probably try and fall asleep outside if it was summer, but it wasn’t. It was fucking winter and you could see the snow form on top of the window ledge. There was always the sofa, you put a hoodie on your body, covering the short shirt and bottoms you wore, dragging your duvet to the sofa.

Staring up at the ceiling, trying to gain some sleep, you hoped the noise of their maniac sex would calm down. But to your luck, the noise seemed to get even more louder, as if they had left the door open. You really did not need to hear the consistent grunting and moaning coming from your friend and her boyfriend. You knew tomorrow morning you wouldn’t be able to face them after the night they were having.

You were cynical, the last time you had sex being months ago. You were touch deprived and even worse the crush on your pro hero neighbour made it worse, when you’d go in the early mornings to the balcony or get your mail, you’d see the man.

He’s be sweaty from some sort of training, his black vest always clinged onto his body perfectly. He was like a renaissance art piece, he deserved to be in a museum. You tried to think about him, to get rid of the sound of your roommate, you had had an encounter with him in the morning. He had come back from an early morning run and you had gone to get the mail. Flicking through it Bakugo called your name to make sure the elevator didn’t go without him.

The pro hero was drenched in sweat and his long-sleeved running shirt clung to all his muscles, the shorts and leggings he wore underneath sticking to his thigh muscles. It was a sight for sore eyes, and you tried to not stare. “Hey Bakugo.”

You spoke politely, he looked down at you flicking through the mail, mainly magazines and other shit. “Y/n.” He spoke coldly, how could you had a crush on such a cold man.

“I saw on the news about the villains you captured, it was cool.” You tried to converse; he raised an eyebrow crossing his arms.

“It was more than cool, I did it single handily, stupid extras didn’t even help.” He smirked as if he was reminiscing in the past nights action.

You looked up at him, his jaw clenched. “Oh well you didn’t need their help in the first place, did you?” You teased a grin on your face.

He saw you step out of the elevator about to answer but instead keeping quiet, you wish you had stopped walking waiting for an answer but your boldness at teasing had made you too flustered to wait. He often was cold to both you and your roommate, mainly your roommate who found the pro hero an irritant. You often saw his friends come back and forth out of his apartment; you were shocked at how his friends were a foil of the man.

He was angry and frustrated and red riot who you assumed was his best friend frequently visited. Your roommate hated the boy due to her theory that he looked down on commoners, you were studying to go into (any career) and you had been working hard. Was she right? Were you really nothing more than commoners needing to be saved.

Your thoughts turned to your roommate and you got out of your daze of the pro hero, you really couldn’t sleep with the grunts. Your best option was to find somewhere else to sleep for the rest of the night, you were glad it was Sunday the next day so you could have a lie in.

You thought of who you could text to ask if you could spend the night, most of your friends being their own university students with their own problems. Your finger lingered over Bakugo’s number before you decided to just straight up ask him if you could sleep on his sofa.

Leaving your duvet in your room, you unlocked the door of your apartment, quickly slipping out. You finally had some peace without having to hear any more vigorous thrusts, did he want to split her in half or something. You rested your head against the door, before pacing outside Bakugo’s door, the number nine on the side. You hesitated knocking, maybe you should’ve texted before knocking at his door at half three in the morning.

It was only by accident and your nerves that you quickly knocked on the door. Maybe he wouldn’t even hear it, it was early morning, and he could be sleeping. About to leave the door, you were met by the man, he was shirtless, only wearing some grey joggers. You were almost about to admire his body, but as he raised his eyebrow a ‘what’ coming from his mouth you started to spew out your thoughts.

“…so yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend have been fucking for nearly three hours now, and I need my sleep so can I like sleep on your sofa or floor” He raised an eyebrow, his arm was leaning against the top of the door, his height making it easy for him to reach. “It’s fine, if you’ve got no room, I can just go back and h…”

“Shut up and get inside.” You were shocked but quickly obliged, walking into his apartment.

It was not what you had expected, the same layout even with two bedrooms. “My spare room has my hero stuff in it, you want to sleep on the floor”

He was grinning at the idea of you sleeping on the floor, “I can sleep anywhere just not in a sex ridden apartment.”

“My bedrooms free.” He spoke, your face reddening.

“Umm…aren’t you s…sleeping there?” You asked not meeting his gaze.

He crossed his arms, his blond hair less spiky from sleeping. “We’re adults Y/n, we can sleep in the same bed.”

You nodded, not speaking out of fear you’d say something wrong. He walked towards the room as you followed in suit, “stay on your side and we should be fine.”

You nodded again, he went on his side, lying down bare in front of you. It was a sight, his room was boiling, you took your hoodie off he looked at you, trying to not see how your shirt rid to show your exposed stomach. He looked away just as your head popped out of the hoodie. You laid on your side, Bakugo’s broad shoulders made your own touch his as he was partially on your side.

“You have a nice apartment.” You complimented knowing the two of you were still awake facing the ceiling.

He huffed, side eyeing you, he watched as your brought the covers around your shoulders. “It’s exactly like yours, minus the horny roommate.”

You laughed at the comment, turning to face his body. You didn’t care if you both weren’t classed as friends, you were going to try and somehow become friends of sorts. “Who wouldn’t love a horny roommate?”

“Me, I need my space and defiantly cant handle being around sex noises, you should’ve shot them with your quirk or something.”

You hadn’t even told him what your quirk was, it was simple and useless in most situations. “I don’t think its possible for me to do that with my quirk.”

He raised an eyebrow still facing the ceiling, his arm had moved behind his back , you could see his arm muscles all on show, “oh yeah what is it then?”

“Guess.” You teased, stretching the word out. Bakugo finally faced you, he saw how your hair framed your face, your eyes looked tired, but you seemed more awake than you had when you had knocked on his door.

“Just tell me, shitty woman.” You pouted at the man.

“You’re no fun, I can create sparks from my fingertips, I know it’s lame, it’s why I’m at university.” Bakugo looked at you, you expected laughing to come from him, you had heard him call most people extras and those without quirks had been mocked by many people. You expected the same at your lame quirk.

“Can you show me?” He wasn’t acting the same, you ignored his calmness, putting your hand from under the cover. You rubbed your fingers together, a spark coming from each finger, it was like a firework sparkler and was painful to touch. But the application of it was never pro hero material.

His hand moved closer to it, “I would…” He did anyway, his finger touching the top, he quickly moved it away after feeling it for less than a second.

“Oww, Y/n what the fuck? It stings.” You laugh, making the sparks go away, grabbing his hand your breath cool air on it. He hadn’t expected this action, feeling your breath on his fingertips, made his ears go red.

“It’s okay now.” He pulled away, not looking at you.

You didn’t say anything, nobody said anything, you could hear the clock tick away, the minutes going past. Maybe Bakugo had gone to sleep, but as you turned back, he had been fixated on the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He spoke with frustration on his tongue.

“Oh, I don’t know you seemed out of it.” You spoke turning away from him, you could feel his legs move closer to your own, you didn’t dare think of the actions you wanted him to do to you. Inside trying to think of other stuff.

Bakugo instead broke the silence, “your quirk is decent.” It was some sort of compliment and you would take it.

“Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You laugh at the boy, his own mouth twitched upwards. “At UA, there was a kid who made purple balls from his head, so you’re already one hundred times better than him.”

You supress a laugh at someone having a more useless quirk than you, “was he at least hero type.”

“He was just some extra, but he was below four foot and a pussy.” You couldn’t suppress it any longer, a laugh wavering through the room. “And a perv, he loved looking up girls skirts.”

“For some extra, you did pay attention to him.”

“When you have friends that I have, you hear too much unnecessary information.” You smile turning to face him again.

You thought of the heroes who he worked with, who came intro his apartment, they seemed like nice people to be friends with. “So what you don’t pay attention to your friends?”

“I pay attention to important people.” He turned back to face you, both of you under the covers but Bakugo’s hand had moved on top of the duvet, right on top of your body. You didn’t question the action instead questioning him.

“And who’s important to the great Katsuki Bakugo.” You gave a gleeful look waiting for a response.

He thought it out, before finding the confidence to speak, “you.”

You were dumbfounded, your eyes widening waiting for more context, “me?”

“You study (subject area), you and your roommate go to yoga every Friday night, you babysit who I assume is your nephew once a month, you like drinking coffee on the balcony and you always seem to have cooking magazines in your hand.” You were shocked at how much he had remembered and seen from you.

“You noticed.” You were calm on the outside but freaking the fuck out at how much he acknowledged about you, you had spoke about your studies, and what you normally did when you passed by him, but you never expected him to remember.

“How could I forgot your interests.” You smiled looking down before he spoke again, “oh yeah, and you have a massive crush on me.”

Your cheeks reddened, were you that obvious, “w…what?”

“Y/n, I know when girls have crushes on me, I’m surprised in the months I’ve know you; you have brought back one guy and he was the polar opposite of me.” You remembered the guy you had brought back to have sex with, he was the opposite of Bakugo, from his appearance to personality. “Was he able to fuck you good at least?”

A cocky smirk was placed on the blond’s face, his red eyes were filled with a knowing look, you shook your head feeling his hand press harder on the covers, feeling how his hand rubbed back and forth on your leg from on top. “That’s what I thought, I bet you didn’t even cum.”

“I didn’t.” You blurted out.

“You’re lucky you’re better than the other extra’s, you actually have a chance of getting with me.” You looked at him, his other hand moving towards your face.

“Just getting with you?” You hesitantly spoke, your hand meeting his to stop him.

He realised how he had phrased it and quickly rephrased it, “not just to fuck Y/n, I’m not a man whore who does one-night stands.”

“So you’d want to go on a d…date?” You question, pulling his hand towards your cheek.

“Your words not mine.” He spoke defensively, you smirked wanting to close the gap but being scared to make the first move.

He noticed your eyes move down towards his mouth before he closed the gap. The fast pace of the kiss made you more turned on for him, his hands on your cheeks bringing your closer to his face. You had never been kissed like this before, never felt this thrill inside of you and you craved more. His hand moved to your thighs, making you move on top of him, before you sat on top of his exposed chest, your lips still attached to him.

His hands on your sides bringing you closer under the covers as your hands went to his face, making the kiss’ pace fasten. You moaned his name, an instant turn on at the sound of hearing his first name, he had often seen you reading outside on the balcony, he admired how peaceful you got.

But every day when he saw how calm you looked, he fell more and more in love with his neighbour. He watched how you went through the motions every time you read a new book, it was like you were in your own fantasy and he loved it.

His grip on your sides moved to your ass, he squeezed it, making you moan again, this time allowing his tongue access inside your mouth. You loved the feeling, loved his tongue with your own, he loved how you sat on his perfectly, the way one of your hands had moved to his bare chest, glossing over each muscle. As you both parted, he bit at your bottom lip, tugging to make one last moan come from your mouth.

The sound making his ears tingle in enjoyment before he flipped you over. He craved you but was always going to ask before he moved onto other things. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” He spoke his mouth on your stomach moving upwards, he was a predator and you his prey and he wanted to devour you.

“I want to wait.” You spoke breathlessly.

He nodded, “I can still kiss you right?” He stopped kissing right underneath your bra, his hand having lifted your shirt up.

“Yes Bakugo.” You smiled feeling his mouth latch upwards, past your bra and onto your neck. Sucking the spot, his hand on your side as he continued to nibble and bite on your collar.

“It’s Katsuki, baby girl.” The single word sent your insides into to turmoil. A purple bruise formed on your neck, before he captured your lips his own. Your legs wrapped around his back, as you brought your arms round his neck, wanting to limit the gap between the two of you.

“Baby…” You trailed off speaking through the kiss, it was too much excitement as his kiss left you a sloppy mess, you felt like putty in his hands. He let go letting you breath, before lying on his back.

“Come ‘ere.” He grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to his body. “We can finish this after our date tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise.” You smiled boldly, his face going into the crook of your now bare back, his arms around your exposed stomach and lips kissing your shoulder.

He went to your ear, licking the back of your ear before nibbling at the earlobe, “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out on, and we’ll make your roommate hear it all.”

You smiled in agreement; his arms wrapped around your body. You had not expected this to happen, you had thought you were doomed to be alone, but in the angry boys defence, you never even thought he acknowledged you. But as you laid hearing his soft snores in your ear, you gleamed at how you had got something you had been craving for months now.

bonus scene

You woke up the sound of Bakugo in his kitchen, finding his discarded shirt, you wore it, it was a lot bigger than you, but you hoped Bakugo liked it. You walked into the kitchen, a plate of pancakes on the table. “I mad…” He turned around seeing your cute little face in his shirt. “You really want me to bend you over right now.”

You giggled walking up to him, he grabbed your waist planting a soft kiss on you mouth. It was a lot calmer than last nights, but still had the same love in it. You heard his front door open, but Bakugo’s grasp on your was still tight, you squealed not wanting to be seen, instead Bakugo flipped you around, his body pressed onto your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Oi Bakugo, did you forget we were meeting at the…” He trailed off seeing both of you. “Isn’t that your attractive neighbour.”

Your face reddened, “I said you could use my spare key in emergencies.” The door was still wide open, and you knew Bakugo’s shouting would raise some attention.

“I thought you died.” Kirishima spoke. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima, you’re the neighbour, we’ve all had to hear so much about.”

You smiled at the fact Bakugo spoke about you, it melted your heart. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You smiled, Bakugo’s grip loosening as you went to shake Kirishima’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled out.

“What the fuck is all the noise.” You saw the door of your apartment open, you looked at your roommate who looked tired and her hair dishevelled. “Y/n what the fuck are you doing in there?” she looked between Bakugo and you, the way his arm was placed around your waist.

“You didn’t, even after everything I said.” She spoke a loud. “Tell me everything.”

She grabbed your hand, dragging you out. “I’ll see you tonight.” You shouted at Bakugo who watched you walk away.

“Ooo pancakes.” You heard Kirishima gleam out, Bakugo watched you get dragged away. A smile at the fact he had finally gotten what he wanted.

proceed to part two here

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

Text

cake walk bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Inspo can be found here, i really liked the idea and kinda ran with it lol

sorry ive been away for a while. ive been in a shit mindset but things around me are changing again and im hoping for the better. im away from home this week and figured id finally finish this, as well as restart the marvel shows on netflix so expect some new daredevil and punisher one shots in the near future 😁

also this is like half edited so if it sucks or i forgot to fix anything sorry

Song: soft by motionless in white

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Bucky had been super tired lately. He had been having nightmares here and there and though he hadn't had one in a while he was still worried he'd hurt me in his sleep. So he was currently taking a nap in our shared room at the compound. We were only here for a few days to train new recruits and then we would all be back to our own homes. Me and buck, Sam, Clint, even Scott showed up. But then again he was always excited to be part of the team. Now I was in the kitchen like I usually was, stress-baking. But just to be safe, and per his request, I had a camera on buck while he slept to make sure he was still okay and I could rush to our room if he needed me.

So I stood at the island, gathering ingredients and singing softly to myself. not unusual for me to do, it was a good distraction after all and everyone else loved it because it made the place smell great. that and they all loved the many cakes, cookies, muffins, breads, and other baked goods I decided to make. a lovely thought really, one that brought a smile to my face as I began measuring out the dry ingredients. when I turned to look at the monitor though Bucky was gone, making me set the flour back onto the counter. Panic set in immediately. I tapped the screen twice, hitting the tracking cam on his watch and the footage coming up. I sighed deeply as I saw the blurry side video of Bucky murder-stomping his way through the halls. I tapped my own watch quickly.

"attention we have a 'wolf out of containment.' if you see him direct him to the kitchen but do not engage. If you wake him he'll hurt himself."

I said into it, rolling my eyes at the code name, and looking back to the monitor in worry. I heard my voice echo off the walls as he stepped towards the sound. One of the agents was walking down the hall and paused when he saw Bucky, rage behind his eyes as he got closer. Now Bucky was holding him harshly in his metal hand.

"Where is she?"

He said through gritted teeth and i could see both of their faces in the view on my watch.

"Kitchen. Down the hall to the left."

The agent squeaked out. Bucky threw him to the ground quickly before making his way down the hall. I double tapped the monitor again as he turned into the room. There was an intensity and pain strewn across his features as he made his way to me. whatever nightmare this was it had a full hold of him. he had been sleep walking a lot recently but it had never gotten this bad. but he knew what to do, even unconscious. Before he even made it to the table across the room Sam was rushing in behind hi, coming to a screeching halt when he realized what was happening to his best friend.

"I heard the code. Is everything okay?"

He asked and Bucky turned around, throwing a punch his way and him ducking. he made a scared face as he stood back up ready to fight.

"At ease soldier!"

I yelled and Bucky froze, mid motion as he began to throw another. He looked over his shoulder at me, seething, breathing heavy, eyes glazed over.

"Come here."

I said softly. He sent Sam a glare before doing as told, backing his way to the counter where i was standing. he never once stopped looking at Sam, or the other few agents that came rushing in with guns. that definitely didn't help.

"do you need help?"

one of them asked, looking between me and Bucky as he plucked a knife out of the wood block on the counter, holding it in a defensive position as he stood in front of me.

"no, I don't need help. Sam and I can take care of this."

i said matter-of-factly, the agent speaking into their watch and all three of them lowering their guns.

"just leave us be. everything is fine. if i need anything ill call."

they all nodded hesitantly, looking to Sam briefly before leaving. i sighed out when they were finally out of sight, side stepping buck and going back to measuring my sugar and vanilla.

"He sleep walking again?"

Sam asked quietly, stepping very slowly around the table and I nodded, moving to put mix my dry ingredients together. Bucky stood next to me, fist clenched tight around the knife as he watched Sam's every move with vigorous intent. I pulled one of the stools out from under the counter before grabbing a spoon and mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make the cookie dough.

"Sit."

I offered buck and he sent me a confused looked. I glared at him and he did as told.

"Sam you mind setting a timer on that pad for twelve minutes?"

He nodded and did as told, stepping closer but not close enough for buck to do anything about it. they stared at each other as I molded the dough into balls on a tray.

"has this been happening a lot recently?"

Sam asked and i nodded, pushing the chocolate chips off the ends of my fingers.

"it hasn't been full mission before, and this one is lasting much longer."

i noted, washing my hands in the sink to the right of the counter.

"how do you know what to do?"

i let out a nervous laugh, tucking the tray of cookies into the hot oven behind me.

"in all actuality, I don't. I'm just hoping that the things I've tried before work. "

Bucky looked between me and Sam as I stood back up, drying my hands on the towel and moving to touch his cheek gently. he flinched for a second, staring at me as i tucked his hair behind his ear.

"its okay soldat. you can relax, he's not going to hurt me. he's my friend."

i said very softly, looking over his eyes as he turned back to Sam.

"put the knife down."

i said just above a whisper, moving to stand behind him. i began slowly running my fingers through his hair. he still held the knife tightly as i started to hum along to one of his favorite songs from his childhood. he had shared it with me sometime after we had moved in together. it had been my savior more than once.

"does that work?"

Sam asked and i sent him a look, trying to get Bucky to lean back into my chest. he kept jolting himself back up, fighting the urge to close his eyes. as I got to the end of the song though he had his head completely rested against me, body limp, and knife clattering to the rug beneath us. he had fallen back into a deep sleep, snoring softly as I continued to finger comb his hair.

"yes Samuel, it works."

i said, and then the timer went off. Bucky jolted upright, the stool shaking as i leaned forward and caught him before he fell off. I held his shoulders as he breathed heavily, looking around in deep confusion.

"Sam?"

he asked before looking back at me and drawing his brows.

"hey baby, its okay. I'm sorry we woke you."

he turned to me and took my hand.

"y/n, why am I in the kitchen?"

i let out a nervous laugh, letting him go and getting my cookies out of the oven.

"you were sleep walking again."

he groaned, standing up and freezing when he looked down.

"I didn't hurt anyone... did I?"

he said horrified as he picked the knife up. i shook my head frantically, taking it from him and putting it back in the block.

"no! no no no. baby you did not."

i said quickly through one breath, placing my hands on either side of his face. he looked like he was going to cry.

"hey, no, look at me. James. you didn't hurt anybody. I dropped the knife in surprise when you came in here. it had nothing to do with you."

Sam sent me a sad look as i tried to calm Bucky down.

"you're sure?"

he asked pained and i pulled him into a tight hug, cradling his head in my hand and mouthing to Sam to not say anything.

"yes Jamie I am sure. you are perfectly fine. scared the shit out of some agents. but no more."

he took in a shaky breath.

"i scared you."

he repeated just above a whisper and i pulled him away from me, holding his head in my hands and looking between his eyes.

"you just caught me by surprise, nothing we haven't been through before."

he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. i kissed his forehead gently.

"hey, now that you're awake, you want a cookie?"

i asked and he looked up at me, offering a small smile.

"uh, yeah, id love one."

i nodded once before turning and carefully taking one off the tray and placing it on one of the dry paper towels sat on the counter in front of him.

"made especially for my buckaroo."

i said and he laughed lightly before taking a bite. he was none the wiser and Sam sent me a testing look.

"Sam?"

i asked, holding one out to him and he took it begrudgingly. i went back to finger combing Bucky's hair as he snatched another. sending me a genuine smile as he chewed. i shared another knowing glance with Sam before he pulled another bar stool out and sat across from us.

"these are pretty good y/n, wish we could share with more of the guys here."

he said and i sent him a look.

"well i guess we'll just have to save them some for later. I'm sure they're all very busy right now with other important things."

i said a little condescendingly and he shook his head.

"so uh, i don't know what's happening but if i sit here any longer there wont be any left for anyone else. what do you say we go for a walk or something?"

Bucky said with a smile and i nodded, smiling back.

"i think that's a great idea. Sam?"

he looked from Bucky to me and to the tray.

"uh you guys go ahead. ill make sure these get to the guys, and that the recipe doesn't make its way into their daily reports."

i took Bucky's hand as he stood and nodded once at Sam in understanding. he was going to make sure no one got word of Bucky's incident, just in case. he was getting better after all.

"thanks Sam, it means a lot. come on buck, lets get some air."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #white wolf #334

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contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

Text

killing me softly with his song

3k post-mountain mutual pining fix it. read on ao3 here!

Geralt isn’t supposed to feel things. At least, that’s what Vesemir had purported after he had finished going through the mutations. Had sat him down and had a whole conversation about it, in fact, but at the moment, Geralt is feeling rather lied to. He’s felt things before, of course he has, he knows that being a Witcher doesn’t truly mean his emotions are gone. Muted, would be a more accurate word.

But now…

It all feels so overwhelming. He can’t seem to escape the swirling unsettledness deep in his gut, the despair that threatens to crash over his head every time he sees something that reminds him of Jaskier, twisting the knife even more in his gut. Back on the mountain, Geralt had regretted his words almost as soon as they had left his mouth, but they had tumbled out of him, and he was powerless to stop it.

Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s always you shovelling it? If life was to give me one blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands!

Jaskier had tried to protest, but Geralt didn’t want to hear it in the heat of the moment, he was more interested in lashing out at anyone who would dare to contest his low opinion of himself. Sure, he might kill monsters, but does that really outweigh everything else?

He’s shit, through and through. He knows that. He’s glad Jaskier finally realized it, too.

The only thing that Jaskier being present all those times when Geralt found himself in trouble meant was that he was always there for Geralt. And really, if Geralt thinks back, he always was.

Geralt’s not sure what he ever did to inspire that kind of loyalty, but he knows he didn’t deserve it. The words he had spat proved that.

Geralt shakes his head as he thinks about all the ways Jaskier has helped him over the years. Even if Jaskier was practically in the middle of sticking his cock some place it really shouldn’t be, if Geralt needed him, he was there.

Jaskier washed monster guts out of Geralt’s hair too many times to count, and if it weren’t for Jaskier turning his reputation around, Geralt probably wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an inn any time in the past decade without being cast out.

And despite all those things, Geralt had still yelled at him, still made one of the only unwavering constants in his life walk away and not look back. What had Jaskier ever gotten in return, anyway? Geralt knows he’s not exactly the best company.

Geralt curses, and Roach noses at his shoulder from where she’s tethered to the tree he’s leaning against.

Geralt strokes his fingers over the soft velvet of her nose and huffs when she snorts in his ear.

“Yes, all right,” he grumbles under his breath, standing up and rustling through her saddlebags to find a sugar cube.

Jaskier had always given Roach too many sugar cubes for her own good.

Fuck.

Geralt looks at the saddlebags, fighting with himself and failing when he fishes out the blanket Jaskier always rolled up to use as a pillow. It smells of Jaskier’s scent that Geralt had liked the best, not the sour and unhappy scent he was pouring off when Geralt shouted at him to go.

Geralt unfurls it and holds it to his nose, avoiding looking at Roach. He’s sure she’s judging him.

Geralt is judging himself a little, too. What was he thinking?

He supposes Witchers are meant to walk the Path alone, so it was for the best. Inevitable. Better to get it out of the way now than later, that’s for sure. Jaskier will get married and have children and won’t want to travel with Geralt anymore, so Geralt is glad he won’t have to suffer through that. He’s not sure he could take it to have to watch a courtship of Jaskier’s that actually lasted, that didn’t end with Jaskier coming back to him.

No, Geralt has feelings, all right, and he’s never hated them more than he does right now.

Roach snorts, pawing at the ground, and Geralt reaches up to pat her shoulder. She’s getting irritated, so Geralt should pack it in for the night, but he itches to keep moving, to keep putting more distance between him and what happened. Roach huffs again, nickering a bit. “Fine,” Geralt grumbles. “We’ll stop in the next town. Happy?”

Probably not, because Roach never seems entirely happy with him these days. Well, Roach can join the club. Geralt makes a mental note to buy more sugar cubes. At least one of them should be happy.

By the time they make it to civilization, it’s much later than Geralt had anticipated. He hands Roach off to a stable girl, wagging a finger at Roach and telling her to be good. Then he talks to the innkeeper and secures a room before walking over to the bar. He desperately needs an ale. His mind has been going nonstop ever since Jaskier left, and while it probably won’t do a whole lot for him, it might slow his thoughts down enough to fall asleep. Maybe he should go to the brothel and look for a distraction. If he could find a fight, even better.

The barmaid plunks a mug in front of him, but Geralt hardly notices after a familiar chord emanates from the corner. Geralt whips his head around to look, but it’s just someone else playing one of Jaskier’s songs. Geralt clenches his teeth. He hates this one. Jaskier had made him out to be entirely too heroic. Geralt’s never been a hero. He’s just in it for the coin.

He’d had this conversation with Jaskier until he was blue in the face, a rare amount of words for him, in his desire to get his point across, but Jaskier had refused to believe him. Just fixed Geralt with a look and said, “Hmm.”

That was Geralt’s line, dammit.

Geralt’s eyes catch on a man sitting at the bar, wearing shoes with hardly a speck of dirt on them. They look like they’d pinch his toes quite a bit, and Geralt can’t help but shake his head at the lack of practicality of it all. His gaze travels up the man, noting his opulent doublet, and Geralt quickly looks away, taking his drink to a corner table.

He thumps the mug down, and several of the other patrons shoot him concerned looks. Geralt clenches his teeth. He has only his own social skills to rely on, now. It’s not a situation he prefers, to say the least. Jaskier was always the best at making people see Geralt as better than he truly was, something they didn’t have to be frightened of, or feel the need to drive out of town.

Geralt heaves a deep sigh. He wishes Jaskier was here.

Jaskier has never been one to turn down an opportunity for good song writing material, but for the first time, he doesn’t want it. He’s always been told heartache makes for the best song fodder, but somewhere along the way, things have gotten muddled, and he’d be perfectly happy if his heart was never broken again.

It still seems like a nightmare that he’s going to wake up from any second; Geralt is going to look at him from where he’s dousing the fire and tell him, “Wake up, lazy bones,” and Jaskier will protest and lunge for his notes as a new song idea that doesn’t reek of melancholy overcomes him.

Jaskier has pinched himself too many times to keep holding out for that hope, though.

In line with what his teachers at Oxenfurt told him, these days, Jaskier has plenty of song ideas. The problem is none of them seem particularly noteworthy. He doesn’t want to make anyone else listen to him reminisce about better days—about the gentle curve of Geralt’s rare smile, the fondness he held for Roach, the way he looked when moonbeams caught on his hair and made him seem even more ethereal than normal.

Even when Geralt was at his most frightening-looking, covered in viscera and ichor from his latest monster kill, Jaskier never lost that sense of wonder. Geralt could probably kill Jaskier with his pinky, but he let Jaskier tag along with him anyway, for years.

Geralt might pretend to be jaded and cynical, but Jaskier knows the truth. Jaskier saw the way Geralt couldn’t resist helping others, the way he always gave a subtle wave to the children he passed in the streets who didn’t shrink away from him, and let them pet Roach until their parents noticed and ushered them away. Geralt’s mouth would settle into a hard line and his shoulders would square, but he never commented on it, so neither did Jaskier.

Jaskier strums a chord on his lute thoughtfully, but it doesn’t sound right. Nothing has sounded right for days, and Jaskier is teetering over the precipice of despair.

He needs a distraction.

He makes his way to an inn, figuring whatever he’s met with, be it adoration or angriness at someone he’s scorned, it’ll be able to settle the unease that’s lived beneath his skin since that terrible night.

He had stumbled down the mountainside, veering off trail and crashing through the scratchy underbrush in his haste to get away from Geralt. Away, before Geralt had the satisfaction to see the emotion pulling at his face, the tears pooling in his eyes. Geralt’s cruel words could only have been aimed to deliberately hurt, even after all the time they had spent together. Well, hell, because of it.

Geralt thought he brought nothing but bad luck, and looking at the shambles his life is in, he’s inclined to agree. No wonder Geralt hadn’t wanted to take him up on his offer of getting away for a while. He doesn’t know why he suggested it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The coast? What would someone like Geralt want to go there for, anyway? It certainly wouldn’t be for the pleasure of Jaskier’s company.

Too much, too soon. Jaskier snorts at himself. It wasn’t too soon. Geralt just never wanted to hear it.

No lasting relationships, no steady job, no place to lay his head and call his own? Jaskier could be doing better, that’s for sure.

Jaskier lets out a heavy sigh as he stops with his hand on the door to the inn, distracted by a nickering from the stables. He looks over and sees a mare that looks just like Roach. Jaskier pats his pockets for his sugar cubes until he remembers flinging them all into a lake on his way down the mountain. It wasn’t his finest hour.

He walks over to the bay horse and pets her, running his fingers over her wiry fur. She snorts just like Roach would have, and Jaskier can’t help but be overcome by a wave of dejectedness. He really misses Roach; she always let him tell her about all his problems. Namely, Geralt.

Jaskier sighs. He supposes he should cut his losses and try to move on, snip Geralt neatly from his life, but they’re too bound together for any kind of removal to go smoothly.

Jaskier pets the white nose the horse has, just like Roach, and snorts at the coincidence. There’s no way Geralt made it this far south already, so it can’t actually be Roach. Jaskier has been travelling as fast as he can, because if he stops, he’ll have to think, and he certainly doesn’t want that to happen. The horse nips at his sleeve, drawing Jaskier back to the present.

This is practically the longest he’s spent away from Geralt besides during the winters, and Jaskier’s not a fan, to put it lightly. He combs his fingers through the horse’s coarse mane and adjusts the strap of his lute before he walks inside the inn.

Geralt sighs, drumming his fingers on the scratched tabletop before noting the stares he’s receiving and pulling his hand back on his lap. He doesn’t need to draw any unwanted attention to himself. He drains his third mug of ale for the night and is getting ready to head to his room when the inn door creaks open.

Geralt jerks his head in the direction of the noise on instinct, and his stomach drops when he recognizes the familiar face. His pulse immediately speeds, pounding in his ears until that’s all he can hear.

Geralt ducks his head, but not before he sees Jaskier returning his shocked stare. Geralt tips his mug back again, even though it’s empty, just to try and look busy. It’s been a month, so he’s sure Jaskier has already moved on, and Geralt speaking to him would just open up wounds for both of them. On a day when he felt particularly ready to lie to himself, he would say he’s mostly over his best friend getting torn from his life.

It reminds Geralt of when healers would try to stitch up his skin when just a little too much flesh was missing. Tight and pinched, and it stung something awful anytime he jostled it. That’s about how neatly having Jaskier walk away has healed, as well. Geralt is still waiting for the wound to stop itching.

Jaskier, for his part, just blinks when he sees Geralt. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost. Geralt looks like he’s been running from something, too, and for a second, Jaskier allows himself to hope. It’s quickly dashed when Geralt looks away from him like he’s been burned. Jaskier turns to settle into the corner, only to see there’s already a bard at this inn. Well. That’s peachy. The other bard stares wide eyed, his gaze flitting back and forth from Jaskier to Geralt, before a look of understanding dawns across his face and he hastily gets up.

Jaskier raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t aware their reputation had spread quite this far. Nevertheless, he takes the man’s spot, adjusting the strings of his lute just a bit, stalling.

Geralt is still at his table.

Jaskier clears his throat and strums his lute.

The fairer sex, they often call it…

He stares at the side of Geralt’s face, but Geralt doesn’t look back at him. Jaskier notices the way his shoulders tense up, though, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

I'm weak my love, and I am wanting

If this is the path I must trudge

I welcome my sentence

Give to you my penance

Garrotter, jury and judge

At that, Geralt turns his head to look straight at Jaskier, and Jaskier tries to resist the shiver that creeps down his spine. When Jaskier finishes the song, he finds Geralt still staring at him. He slings his lute over his shoulder and draws upon his reserves of bravery. He finds they’re about empty, but he walks over to Geralt anyway.

Jaskier approaches him, and Geralt’s eyes widen. Geralt was under the impression they were going to just ignore each other, like any other sensible people who don’t like talking about their feelings.

Jaskier has always been a wordsmith, though, so maybe Geralt shouldn’t be surprised. And by the sound of his song, it seems like Jaskier already knows what he wants to say, even if Geralt shouldn’t let himself hope that it means what he wants.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier says weakly.

Geralt bites his lip, and takes a chance. “Care to join me?”

Jaskier’s eyes get round, and a peculiar look crosses his face. He sits.

Geralt smells the unease coming off of Jaskier in droves, and Geralt takes a moment to grimace at the realization that it’s because of him. Even the first day they met, when Jaskier knew nothing about him, Jaskier hadn’t been so unsettled. Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of his personality. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s not the easiest person to be around. He’s sure many people would say he’s the person to be around, and it seems like Jaskier is inclined to agree.

But.

Geralt wants to try and make this right.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt repeats, enunciating like Jaskier just didn’t hear him.

They stare at each other for a beat. “Interesting song,” Geralt says, casting Jaskier a sideways glance. “Did you find a new fancy?”

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I think you know.”

Picking up on conversational nuances has never been Geralt’s strong suit, but Jaskier’s song wasn’t exactly subtle, was it?

Geralt stands and Jaskier follows suit. Geralt tilts his head towards the stairs, and he can hear Jaskier’s hard swallows as he trails behind Geralt, to his room. Jaskier pulls the door shut behind him and looks at Geralt expectantly.

“Jask…” Geralt starts, and Jaskier tries very hard not to let himself be won over just by the soft tone Geralt’s taken. The one he reserves for the people he loves. Jaskier is sure Roach is the only one who gets to hear it often. “I missed you.”

Jaskier shuts his eyes briefly. It’d be easy to push Geralt away, tell him this is too little, too late, and it would certainly be less complicated than picking up the tattered ends of their relationship, but. Jaskier is weak, and he is wanting.

“I missed you, too.”

#the witcher #geraskier #ficlet #geraskier ficlet #geralt of rivia #jaskier #contemplative writing

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thatsamericano · 4 years ago

Text

Pink Sky up on the Roof

Pairing: America/Romano

Rating: Teen, only for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1409

Summary: When the world meeting has a short break, Romano goes up to the roof to smoke a cigarette and watch the sunset. America joins him, and they have a meaningful conversation, just like they did the first time they sat on a roof together nearly a century ago.

A/N: Written for day 7 “sunrise/sunset” of @aphrarepairweek2021. The fic is loosely based on “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” by Taylor Swift, and the title is taken from the song too.

Romano sat on the roof of the building where the world conference was being held, and he leisurely smoked a cigarette and gazed down at the view of his people bustling along the Piazza del Popolo. The sky had turned into a warm palette of orange and pink, and he could see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica in the distance.

A sudden noise made him turn to the left. He relaxed when he saw it was just America.

America grinned. “Hey, Vinny. Wasn’t expecting to see you up here.”

Savino turned to look back over the horizon and took a draw of his cigarette. “I needed a smoke break. You?”

He heard America’s footsteps scuffing along the concrete, then heard Alfred sitting down next to him on his left side. “I needed a break in general. I just checked my phone, and I’ve gotten 52 emails since lunch.”

“Fifty-two? That seems excessive.”

“Forty-eight of them were from various government officials.” America sighed. “They give me so much work, but most of the time it’s just paper pushing. They never let me do anything substantial, but then of course, they blame me the second anything goes wrong.”

It was rare to see America like this. Usually he projected so much optimism, especially about himself and his people, that one would never suspect he might feel cynical or disappointed with his own government. Alfred kept any sadness close to the vest, but Romano knew him better than most other nations did. They’d lived together, after all.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Next time one of them blames you for shit that isn’t your fault, you ought to tell them to fuck off.”

Alfred laughed. “You know, sometimes I wish I could.” He scooted close enough to bump shoulders with Savino. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Don’t mention it.” Savino forced himself to act casual, as if the fact that Fredo was technically touching him now wasn’t bringing to life feelings that should have died a long time ago. Or that, frankly, should have never existed in the first place.

A couple minutes of silence followed. Alfred seemed to be contemplating something deeply, and Savino was content to let him.

Suddenly, Alfred let out a laugh. “You know, this kind of reminds me of that time we hung out on a roof before. Do you remember? It was about a week after you moved in with me.”

Savino cast his mind back to an evening long ago on a different rooftop much closer to the ground, with only the view of an unfamiliar backyard instead of his home. He’d felt so lonely and lost back then. “I remember.”

“Before you told me what was going on with you, I just figured you hated me. It really surprised me when you shared all of that.”

“I needed someone to talk to,” he admitted quietly. He put out his cigarette and smirked over at Alfred. “And you asked me if I knew how to make Italian food.” Alfredo had said a lot of goofy things over the years, but that had to be by far one of the stupidest.

Alfred’s face now matched the pink sky. “But it worked, didn’t it? You realized you had more choices than you’d thought, and that all that stuff about you not being capable compared to your brother wasn’t true. In just one night, we went from you thinking I was an annoying jackass you had to live with to actually being friends.”

“You’re right. Asking me that did work, ridiculous as the question was.” Something had changed in him that night, and he had begun to see Alfred differently, just as Alfred had said. After that night, Romano slowly became comfortable being in America’s presence in a way he wasn’t with most people. Living together had worked so well that part of him regretted having to move away, and not just because of the sad look on Alfred’s face on the day he said goodbye.

But sitting next to Alfred posed a danger that scared him far more than falling off this building would. The longer he sat with America, talking about the past and the present, the harder it became to suppress the urge to grab America’s hand, which was resting a few precarious centimeters away from him. Yet holding Alfred’s hand would require an explanation Savino wasn’t prepared to give, and Savino was even less prepared for Alfred’s potential reaction to receiving any kind of romantic overture from him.

It was best for him to keep his feelings locked up inside, just as it had been for nearly a century.

Alfred swallowed so heavily that Savino could see his Adam’s apple move, then stared out at the city underneath them. “That night meant a lot to me. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I think part of it was that I just liked being close to you.”

“You must have, since you followed me out onto the roof,” Savino joked. He felt a little uneasy at the abrupt mood change. Why was Alfredo acting so nervous all of a sudden?

“I… I still like being close to you. Only, I think I’d like to be even closer, if that’s okay.”

America’s words were cryptic, and they didn’t make much sense at first. Romano frowned as he puzzled them over, but right as he was about to ask Alfred what the hell he was trying to say, he felt a touch, featherlight, and barely there. He glanced down and saw Alfred’s pinky hesitantly brushing the side of his hand.

A smile broke out on his face as he took Alfred’s hand. “It’s okay, Fredo.”

Alfred laced their fingers together, but he looked worried, as if he wasn’t sure if that was allowed. “It is?”

“Absolutely. If I didn’t want this, I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I?”

Alfred grinned in that so bright it almost hurt to look at way that Savino loved so much. “Oh, that’s good. I’m glad.”

His heart was hammering inside his chest, and just the idea of saying it made Savino feel incredibly vulnerable and embarrassed. But he would’ve regretted not saying it more, so he avoided direct eye contact just to get the words out of his mouth. “If, um, if you wanted to kiss me, that would be okay too.”

America’s smile somehow got even bigger as he started to lean in, and Romano closed his eyes.

Alfred tasted faintly of leftover soft drink, and his glasses were pressed into the corner of Savino’s eye. His kiss was clumsy, like he hadn’t ever done this before, but Savino didn’t mind. Alfred’s free hand was cupping his cheek, and when he pulled away, Savino couldn’t help whining in protest.

Alfred chuckled. “God, Vinny, I could look at you forever.”

Savino opened his eyes to squint at him skeptically. “Really? Even with all that gorgeous scenery right in front of you?” He gestured out to the view that Alfred was ignoring in favor of staring at him with an unbelievably sappy gleam in his eyes.

“Even then.”

America was so damn sincere that Romano just had to kiss him again. But only a couple seconds later, both of their cell phones went off.

Alfred pouted when Romano pulled away to check his phone messages. “It’s Germany. Apparently, the meeting was supposed to resume five minutes ago, and everyone is wondering where the fuck we are.”

“Can’t we just skip? Making out with you is way more important than whatever the rest of today’s presentations are.”

“I wish we could, but that would probably lead to too many questions we don’t want to answer. Not just from the other countries, but from our bosses too.”

“Fine. We’ll go be ‘responsible representatives.’ But you owe me lots of kisses after this meeting is done.”

Romano rolled his eyes as America stood up and helped pull him up too, but he was pleased that Alfred wanted this to continue. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, tesoro.”

Alfred swung their hands back and forth as they walked to the door that led back into the building. He only let go for a couple seconds to open the door for both of them, then started holding Savino’s hand again with a firmness and certainty that made it clear he wouldn’t let anything or anyone pry them apart.

#hetalia #aphrarepairweek2021 #aphrarepairweek #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

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finalgirlbuffysummers · 4 years ago

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okay here it is. The rest is below the cut.

You would think that living on a Hellmouth made the nightmares worse. That every night would be screaming torment, but really, the hollow earth below never really prowled the dreams of its lesser citizens. Sure, the vampires and their teeth made appearances, dead classmates, the prickling curent of the wind, but waking up and knowing your neighbor heard the same bump in the night, knowing you survived to see the sun: that’s your bitter reward. Your comfort. It’s normal here, perched on the lip above the sharpest tooth.

No, the nightmares get worse ten years down the line. You’re out of highschool. You wake up alone. You wake up in a city that doesn't understand you, strangers who want to prescribe you medicine or tell you to mediate. So you end up alone, and you know alone is how they like you. You’re not sure if demons lurk in your new city. You thought once that a man standing on the corner lit his cigarette with massive purple claws, and you ran, your feet echoing like gunshots through the streets.

You never did learn to shoot a gun. You keep it in your nightstand drawer, but you know it wouldn't stop anything that's followed you out of California, out of Sunnydale. Once, you had a girlfriend. Rummaging around for a hair tie she discovered your small handgun, your safety blanket. She picked it up with her forefinger and her thumb, like it was filthy, like she didn't understand. “Why do you keep one of these awful things?” You couldn't answer her.

There's no girlfriend now. No one to make you coffee in the morning, no one to rub your back when you wake up with the feeling of teeth in your throat, tight grips on your ankles. She got tired of you, you poor, novel thing from the west.

So it's been weeks. So it's been grocery shopping at 3am, staring at the wilting vegetables, trying to stay out of your apartment. It's been staying longer at the museum you work at. No, you don’t work there just to read the old books for some kind of answer, you lie. At your highschool, there was a librarian who kept swords. You think about sending him an email: Hey, Mr. Giles, do you sleep at night? Does it get easier? Where might I acquire a sword such as yours? You draft hundreds before you realize you have no idea where to send them.

Your classmates don't keep in touch. there is no Facebook group, there is no reunion. There can’t be: Sunnydale is no more. It collapsed in itself. This should be comforting: but all you can think of is the beasts who crawled out of the pit, who remember the stink of your fear. Some folks stayed local, moving just a town over, the low thrum from the throat of hell enough the lull them into a stupid haze of breakfast, lunch, and getting eaten for dinner. The rest left. There are two hundred, give or take, Sunnydale immigrants scattered around the country, waking up alone. Waking up with a gun in their hands. Waking up dead. Your school newspaper had an obituary page. The boy who ran it wrote well, you thought, if cynical. Who the hell can blame him? Mr. Giles, you write. How come it didn't get us? Why are we still left? Mr. Giles, can you tell me if it's following us?

Last week a friend of a friend called you to say Dennis had died. Dennis… you remember now. He was the lead singer in that band, what was it? Something about Dingoes. You ask how he died. Sunnydale habits: You keep an ear out for the signs. The friend says, puncture wounds, on the neck. Police suspect it was inflicted by a barbeque fork. You drop the phone. You sharpen stakes, get splinters in your palms. Buy crucifixes by the dozen. More than once, you’ve slept in a church pew, under the painted ceiling. At work, your boss asks with some concern about the dark circles under your eyes. Long night, you say. You are starting to hate this city. In this city, there’s no hero.

Yes, you remember her. You know everyone else does, too. Buffy. One time, you saw her sparring with the librarian. No swords, just fists. Another time, she crawled out of your biology classroom window at the arrival of a dark haired girl who blew her kisses. One time, she slammed the computer science teacher against her own desk. Wacky shit. You knew, though. That Sunnydale High had to be the safest place in town because of her. She killed things, probably. Definitely. Then she left. Sometimes, there are whispers: “I heard Buffy’s in Rome.” “I heard she lives in a castle.” “I heard she’s dead.” God, please, no. After every long night, you pray she still lives. That she hasn't let her guard down. It's midnight. You draft another email. Mr. Giles. Buffy’s still alive, right? Please tell me she’s okay. People keep dying, Mr. Giles, and we’re not even in Sunnydale anymore. Can you tell me what happened there? Why can't I stop dreaming about the destroyed graves of everyone who died? Can you tell me anything at all? Mr. Giles, Dennis is dead. Oz’s friend. I hope Oz is alive, too. I hope you’re alive. I hope you’re well. Take care. This time, you call a colleague in London. You track down Gile’s email through a stroke of luck, and you hit send. You don’t hear back at all.

Three months later, you receive a response. You’d almost forgotten about the message you sent. Your museum opened a new and successful gallery You received a promotion. You’ve been successful. (Yes, you’re even sleeping more. Shh, don’t say it too loud). You open the email.

Greetings and glad to hear from you- it’s wonderful to hear from old students. I do hope you’re well.

There is no easy way to answer these emails. Yes, you're not the only one who’s managed to reach me. I won’t disclose my location, or hers, but I can tell you that Buffy is safe, and alive, and I think she’s happy. She’s been happy for a while. I’ll tell her you asked, she likes to know that old classmates are doing well. Yes, Oz is alive. He’s been in Tibet for some time, though we do hear from him on occasion. He heard about Denis’s passing. Truly a tragedy.

I’m quite pleased to hear you’ve entered museum studies: a deeply satisfying and enriching work. I hope that you are finding enough answers with it. I know that living on- Well, where we lived is disorienting, confusing. I’ll try to answer you as best I can.

The swords I kept in the library (do never tell anyone I did that) I received as a present form a collector friend, who is long dead and whose collection is long scattered. The rest of the blade I received from my employers. I do not recommend keeping swords in your home as a safety measure. Invest in a good lock. Invest in protection charms found in books of the dark arts. I checked: your museum has some in collection. (Since you are emailing me, I can only guess that you’ve accepted explanations beyond those from the metaphysical realm).

I do sleep at night, thank you for asking. It gets easier. I don’t say this just because I’ve put an ocean between myself and Sunnydale, no: time does heal. It helps that I’m with people who understand. It helps to name the thing in the dark. I’ll put you in contact with a colleague of mine- he’s in your museum network- and you can begin to build yourself a circle, if you wish.

There is no reason that we live, my friend. There's no reason why any of our friends died. Your life is not a curse, I can promise you that. This isn’t borrowed time.

If you were being followed it would have gotten you by now. I apologize for my bluntness.

Oh, the ageless question of what happened. All the time in the world and I couldn’t give you a satisfactory answer. What would I say? That vampires haunt the sunniest part of California? That hell is real, and it can speak? I believe you already know the outline. What I can comfort you on is that yes. There are people who find evil, and they stop it. They haven't gone away. But that's not the point: don’t worry about them. Sunnydale is gone, dear student. It’s up to you to name the thing in the dark, keep it at bay. Be watchful, be wise. The world is bigger than most people know.

Sincerely,

Rupert Giles

You close your laptop. You stretch your legs. You go into the bedroom to retrieve the handgun, then place it on the kitchen counter. You stare at it. It doesn't move. You stare. The apartment is still, like the city is holding it in its throat. The clock strikes 4 am. It’s just a clock. It's just a gun. In your apartment, you’re just you, waiting for the sun to rise.

END

#well. here it is #reviews appreciated :)#btvs #buffy summers #btvs fanfic #btvs fanfiction #buffy #rupert giles #giles #vampires #daniel osbourne #sunnydale

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wendystales · 3 years ago

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Seventeen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Sixteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Eighteen

Marnie pov.

I don't know if it was hangover or guilt, but my head was weighing a ton the morning after the party. Unlike everyone, I didn't wake up in a good mood, in fact I was pretty quiet at breakfast. Lucky for me, no one suspected anything, as the hangover gripped everyone there.

As yesterday was still Saturday and most had to work, I didn't have to run away from anyone. Since my plan had been in action since Monday, I took the day off to start packing up some things, trying to get everything as ready as possible.

For today, I had left only the final adjustments, like packing my suitcase and getting ready for my conversation with Luke.

The pain in my throat becomes more and more unbearable every time I hold back the cry. I fold up one of the band sweatshirts I have, watching the boys' faces, wanting to reinforce why I'm doing this.

I run my finger over Luke's face, as if I'm touching him. Friday's flashes flood my mind and I scold myself for nearly screwing it up out of sheer desire. Of course I wanted it as much as he did. Feel his touch, the desire and love he manages to emanate so naturally. I don't think I've ever felt so alive and so amazing in anyone's arms as in his, but it couldn't happen.

The doorbell snaps me out of my thoughts. I hurry downstairs, thinking it's Martin with the paperwork.

“Noah?" I give my friend room to enter. "Aren't you supposed to be at that lunch?" I check my watch and check the time, 1:37 PM. “Noah?” I call him, wondering at his frown.

"I wanted to come talk to you directly so we don't have any misunderstandings and to see if that way I can understand what this should mean." he hands me a folder. I open it quickly feeling my blood pressure drop. It was the paperwork I was waiting for. "What's this about moving to New York?"

"How did this get to you?" I try to control my breathing and head into the living room, feeling the urge to sit down. I start to think of a million excuses and ways not to have this conversation since it wasn't part of my plan.

“In case you also forgot, I work at the company. I am the owner's son and above that I am your advisor, everything that happens to you must pass through me at some point. Now tell me what this story is." I don't think I've ever seen Noah this angry.

“I received a job offer and decided to accept.” I know my voice has cracked, but I pray he doesn't notice. Noah stares at me for a few seconds with a more confused and displeased expression.

“I've known you for two years. You're going to have to try harder if you want to deceive me. Marnie, you just signed a rehearsal contract here in LA. If you got a proposal, you would know from me. Does this have to do with the fact that you're weird these days? What? Did you go without saying anything to anyone? That's it?” I remain silent, feeling everything go downhill from there. Slowly, a fury starts to build inside me. “Marnie, what's going on?”

It's not just the countless times I've heard this question throughout the week. I believe it's because I'm not in control of anything right now. About me being forced to do all this, not being able to tell my friend what's going on. All of this makes the question so much bigger and deeper than it really is. And it makes the fury that's brewing inside me grow.

“My God! Nothing! It's not happening anything. What a bag!” the scream breaks my mouth, coming out louder and angrier than I expected. “I am fine! When are you going to understand this?” he doesn't seem to be frightened by my scream, just standing there with his arms crossed and expressionless.

"Maybe when you stop lying and tell me what's going on?" he makes fun of me. A cynical laugh comes out of me as I go to open the door and ask him to leave my apartment. “You weren't like that, Marnie." I get irritated again. I can't explain where so much anger comes from, let alone contain it.

“Surprise, Noah, I'm like that. This is Marnie and always has been. Now if you don't like her, I can't do anything. Your ‘Marnie’ is gone and it's just me. And I'm going to New York whether you like it or not.” along with the anger, I feel like crying, but once again, I hold back with all my strength.

Noah nodded thoughtfully. I know it's a scene, that he's going to attack me again, he's just choosing his words.

“Then that's it? You mess it up, make everyone believe that everything is fine, and leave without warning. Is that what you're going to do?” the judgmental look bothers me.

"I didn't mess anything up."

“No?” he laughs falsely. "I don't say for myself or for the girls, but haven't you been giving a certain someone hope, making him believe you could get back together? And now you're going to go away and let him suffer without caring?” he raises his eyebrows.

I suck in the air harder, making it burn. The fire burns stronger inside me. The desire at the moment is to break everything.

“Do not do it.” my voice breaks. I close my eyes, pulling myself together. “Do not do it! Don't think I'm not suffering from having to make this decision either.” I can't hold back the tears, not caring about them anymore either.

“You're? Cuz it doesn't look like.” I close my hands, squeezing them tightly. I try to control the urge to scream, scream in hate, in anger, in pain and most of all, scream that he is being unfair to me.

“Of course I'm suffering.” once again I scream. "Do you think not?! Look at me! Do you think it doesn't hurt me to have to do all this?! Leave him here like this and not be able to do anything?! Of course it hurts. Why do you think I'm doing all this?! Because I love him! I love more than one day I thought it was possible to love someone. I'm doing it for him. But there's no easy way to do this, I don't have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Marnie, you're just choosing the one you find easiest.”

"Does this sound easy to you?" I interrupt him, opening my arms, showing me. I dry my tears exhausted. “I made my choice and I appreciate if you respect. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish packing my bags.” I open the door for him.

My friend doesn't say anything else, just heads towards the door.

“Feel free to share my plan with the others.” I say tough.

“No! I will not do that. You made your decision, you did the shit and now deal with it.” Noah doesn't even wait for the elevator, taking the stairs.

I slam the door, feeling that anger still burn inside me. I rest my eyes on the wall where my photo is. I go to it, pulling out the wallpaper, tearing off part of the image. I'm not mad at Noah, I'm mad at myself, at the way it all went and where I went.

If I weren't a model, I could be living my life without any problems. Luke would still be the guy in the band I only knew one song about. I would be happy and free from all that pressure.

Still needing to release that anger, I grabbed the flower pots near the door, throwing what was left of my image against. My throat hurts from sobs and my heart clenches when that feeling arises.

““Wait, there's an eyelash.” I say to Luke, trying to catch it. “OK! Make a wish.” I lift my little finger at him.

He was about to take the stage at the Capital Summertime Ball. Luke stares at my finger thoughtfully and smiles, apparently determined.

“Be my girlfriend?” he sounds curious. I stare at his amused face, making sure he's kidding me.

“I'm serious.” I push his shoulder with another hand. I gasp when I see Luke kneel down with the guitar.

“Me too.” he shrugs. I start to laugh nervously, covering my face but careful not to lose my eyelash. I can hear the muffled laughter of the boys beside us, just wanting to hit each one of them.

“You need to blow to see if your wish comes true.” I say, already knowing my answer and I suspect he does too. Luke stands up blowing his flying eyelash.

"Boys, it's you, come in." a production guy yells, already pushing Ashton onto the stage, who is followed by Calum.

Quickly, I grab Luke's face, like I always did before he took the stage.

“Yes!” I give him a peck, watching him smile. Luke hugs me, stealing another kiss, running up onto the stage happily.

“This was definitely the cutest, most improvised request I've ever seen.” I open an even bigger smile, hearing Ryan beside me. I lay my head on his shoulder, swallowing the happy cry I wanted to let out.””

I don't know how long I sat staring at my torn photo, with a horrible pain in my chest. I hug my knees like the coward I am, not wanting to accept that the time has come.

Luke pov.

I jot down one more note in the melody I'm creating. The idea came up in the morning and if I didn't work on it now, I would forget. I go back to playing the piano following the sequence, when the bell interrupts me.

Petunia doesn't even make an effort to get up, remaining on the couch, snoring.

I open the door feeling my heart race. Marnie was standing there with a serious expression. I conclude that she came to tell me what was going on and I am relieved that I will finally understand what is happening.

“Can we talk?" I'm surprised by the hard look.

I make room for her, who goes straight to the living room, standing in the middle. I let a weak smile emerge, remembering all the times she's done this. I stop a little away, giving space, because I know how important this is to her at these times.

"I believe you came to tell me what's going on." I keep my hands in my pants pockets. M&Ms nodded.

"I came to break whatever we have." I don't know how to react. In fact, I'm not sure I got it right. “Look I tried, I really tried, but…”

“I'm sorry, what?”

For a second, I wonder how I got back to two years ago, where we had these fights almost daily. Where we were too dumb to want to accept. If it weren't for the pink hair, I would be convinced that it would be 2018 again.

“I tried to feel something for you, but I couldn't. And there's nothing I can do.”

I stare at Marnie, confused. I replay the past few weeks in my mind, all our moments together, and I can't believe a single word she says. I know everything was real. Every smile and laugh, every flushed cheek, every look and especially every kiss. Come back to Friday. How can she say there was nothing there?

“You gotta be kidding me. After all we've been through this month, do you have the courage to try to say you didn't feel anything?” my tone rises.

It doesn't make any sense. Her speech, her request not to forget that she likes me and today this? The pieces don't come together.

“Sorry. But I can't go on with this anymore.” I can see your gaze looking around the room. She's lying, why is she lying? For me on top.

“Why are you doing this?” Marnie looks at me confused.

"Because I'm tired of carrying this…”

“No! Why are you lying to me?” her eyes roll. I get close enough to be able to hear and notice her breathing.

"I have no reason to lie to you. If you can't accept that a girl doesn't like you, that's your business.” she passes me at the mention of leaving. But I hold your arm.

"So Friday was my hallucination? The two of us in the bedroom. You on my lap. All that desire and lust, was it a dream of mine?” your pupils dilate.

I can see she's thinking right now, can feel her pulse increase. She felt something, all this time, she felt something. I don't know if it's that insecurity from the beginning, the fear of getting involved, of getting hurt that always kept her away from me. The fear that I would be like him.

“I drank a lot.” her voice breaks the silence. I let go, covering my face, laughing indignantly.

“Oh my God, Marnie, why are you doing this? It's clear you're lying to me. Tell me what's going on. Is someone blackmailing you? Threatening you? Is it Stephen? Did he mess with you again?”

“There's nothing going on, Luke. I just don't love you.” she says with her head down.

The sentence cuts through me, causing agonizing pain. I feel my body retract. Your voice comes back in my mind in different tones and shapes, telling me every time you loved me. Whispering, screaming, in normal tones, even the day she swallowed helium gas.

My eyes burn. I don't want to cry in front of her, not out of shame, because I've cried a million times, but out of pride in not accepting that I'm hurt.

“I didn't want to go that far.” her restrained voice hovers over me.

I look at Marnie, not recognizing her. This is not the girl I fell in love with. The girl I spent nights awake just imagining what it would be like to go out with her, what it would be like to hold her hand and see her smile at me. The girl I spent mornings admiring sleeping. That I wrote love letters. That several times made me forget even my name just for saying the same thing. It's not her.

But it's amazing how I still know she's in there, somehow. Maybe Marnie was right that day, she didn't want to feel like an intruder in her own life, but she was.

She herself undid everything we built. Everything we've fought so hard has fallen like a house of cards. The promises made at dawn about our future together, vanish with the wind. I know they weren't empty, but the girl who made them with me isn't here.

“I'm so sorry. I-”

“Say it looking at me.” I stare at her resolutely.

“Don't do that.” she begs in a whisper.

Her eyes flood with despair and I delude myself, even with pain. Her mouth opens several times, but her voice doesn't come out. Her eyes blink several times, trying to ward off the tears that are forming there. I watch her body hold the air.

“What? Weren't you so determined?! So convinced?! Didn't you come here for this?! So say it looking at me, not the walls, like you're doing.” her jaw locks. “Two years ago you came here to look me in the eye and say you wanted to try, you came to ask me for a chance for both of us. So now look into them and say you don't want it anymore.”

Marnie stares at me lost. I pray, I beg her not to make it, for her to give up on this stupid idea. That deep down she says she's afraid to surrender. I wouldn't mind ignoring this fight and pretending nothing happened. Then I would hold her and make her feel like I would protect her from everything, make her feel loved. But my thoughts change and I lose hope when I watch her take off the necklace I gave her.

“I'm sorry.” she puts it in my hand. Right now I don't mind letting the tears fall. I stare at my hands feeling destroyed. Her lips touch my cheek lightly and so she leaves my house and my life.

““What is this?” I open a smile watching her approach, openmouthed. “Luke, what is this all about?” her eyes run over all the details with curiosity.

For a few seconds, I don't know what to say. I lose my breath watching how stunning she looks in this flowery dress with wavy hair. Holy crap.

“Our first date.” I shrug. Marnie breaks into a beautiful smile, making her cheeks blush. The sparkle in your eyes enchants me.

“Luke, when you said a date I swore we were going to a restaurant, I didn't think…” her voice trails off, giving way to a delighted laugh.

"Have I exaggerated?" I approach her, looking at the small tree with scattered lights and the table for two with two candles. "If you say yes, I'll be upset." I make fun of her.

“No! It's perfect, is that… I didn't expect this. Not all of that.” she whispers. "Did you do all this?" she looks at me in surprise.

“Good part. Except the food, the intention is to impress you, not make you run away from me.” I look at her teary eyes and feel amazing for getting it right. She liked.

I take a deep breath, trying to control my breathing and my nervousness. I wanted to leave Marnie speechless, wanted her to make sure I was worth it. And even with all the effort, she managed to leave me speechless yet. My God, how could someone be so beautiful like that? Am I really that lucky to have gotten her attention? I mean, do I deserve her?

“I do not know what to say. Thank you.” I get lost in her eyes, feeling the butterflies in my stomach grow. It couldn't be possible for me to be in love with her that fast already, could it?””

Marnie pov.

Air doesn't reach my lungs, no matter how windy it is. My chest and throat hurt so much my body recoils with every sob. It was like sand in my hand, running through my fingers, I couldn't hold it back.

As torture, I replay the scene in my head again, watching his blue eyes lose their luster and let those tears fall. I wanted to hug him and tell him I was crazy, drunk. That deep down I was completely in love with him, and I didn't even need my memories for that. Luke is so amazing that he managed to win me over again and I believe he could a million times over. I wanted to say that I want him, I want him more than anything, but I can't.

The doorbell pulls me out of my private cell, my mind, prompting me to question whether the bomb had ever gone off. It would probably be Leah or even Ashton, but I don't want to deal with anyone right now. I don't want lectures, I don't want judgments, I just want to stay on the couch until tomorrow when it's my time to go to New York.

I crawl to the door finding the last person I want to see right now. John Letterman has a huge, excited smile, in contrast, my face is red and swollen from crying for the past few hours.

“Hi, Marnie, how are you?” Cursed the day I ran into him at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” John plays offended.

“I just came to ensure that everything is going with our agreement.”

"What does it look like?" I point to my face. “It's all just the way you made me do it.” I turn around, entering the still-destroyed apartment.

"But what happened here?" he looks at the destroyed hall in disgust.

“You, John. Just you and your disgusting manipulation.” John shakes his head laughing.

"I didn't put any gun to your head to accept this. I just showed you the truth, you are destroying the career of 5 seconds of summer. Your person's association is putting their contract and their tour at risk. You're the one who decided to walk away.” he smiles satisfied.

I break eye contact, too exhausted to debate.

“I'm glad you lived up to your part of the deal and I hope this is the last time we've crossed paths.”

"Then we are two."

“But if I hear you're trying to get close to Luke again…” the tone of voice pisses me off.

“I've already done my part, but if you keep pissing me off, I'll go to Luke right now and tell him the whole truth.” I threat, nervous. I try not to show that his laugh makes me confused.

“You know, I missed you, Marnie. That innocence is really funny.” John stops laughing and approaches. "Do you think Luke wants to see you now?! Why do you think I'm here knowing everything?! He already called me, asking me to schedule the trip. He hates you now, Marnie. You broke his heart. I don't care what useless word you say to him, because he won't believe it. Here.” he takes his cell phone out of his jacket. "Want to call him and tell him?! I will help you.” he returns a venomous smile.

“Get out of my house.” I say through teeth.

"What's up, Marnie? Don't be so passionate. After all we are friends.” he makes fun of me.

"I said 'get out of my house.'” I scream, picking up a decorative vase beside me and threatening to throw it at it.

John doesn't look scared, but heads for the door.

“One day you'll thank me, Marnie.” he says before closing the door. I throw the vase, screaming, seeing it crash against the door.

The urge to go to Luke and tell the whole truth becomes much stronger, however, even if I don't want to admit it, John was right, Luke must hate me by now, making everything I say empty. On the other hand, I remember that I'm doing this for him.

I know at any other time, if I knew the band was going through something like that, I would do anything to help. Now, making sure I'm the problem, I want to become the solution and if that meant having to walk away from it then I would, after all their success and happiness could be mine.

I want to have faith that a few years from now, when everything is better, maybe I can get Luke and the others to understand why I'm doing this. Maybe we can even be friends if he doesn't hate me.

I give up, going up to my room for a shower and straight to bed. It's horrible knowing I need sleep to be acceptable for tomorrow, but I can't turn my head off. Even exhausted, I go over every fight I had today. Noah, Luke, and John's voices mingled in my mind, draining me more and more of my energy, but not to the point of putting me to sleep.

The night slowly drags on and the approach of dawn makes an anxiety rise within me. Yesterday they could have held back so they wouldn't come to debate anything, but I doubt that someone won't show up today and, given my state and mood, I'm sure I won't have the strength to fight.

For the few seconds and times I dozed off, I dreamed of the doorbell ringing, of Leah screaming for me to open the door. Finally, when the clock struck a little after five, I decided to get out of bed. Wrapped in the duvet, I walk to the kitchen, making tea. With my drink ready, I walk over to the couch on the balcony, watching the sky clear up for my last day in LA.

Passed morning, I go for a shower with the intention of getting rid of this weight. I lock everything in my room, not knowing when I'll be back. In the closet, I grab Luke's box and pull out my diary and some of our Polaroids. I also take the little white box, carefully storing it in my suitcase.

I walk around the house, closing windows, turning off power and stuff. I don't worry and much less care about the mess I made yesterday, if I ever come back to this apartment, I'll ask for a huge renovation, not wanting to remember anything from that time.

Around 8:00 am, I tell Martin that I want to go to the airport early, wanting to avoid any of my friends or family. I had already talked and said goodbye to my parents before the party. I'm relieved when he says he's on his way.

I take one last look at my apartment, accepting my defeat. I pick up my bags, already going downstairs and moving forward as much as possible to just leave, I just didn't count on Ashton at the front desk of the building

"Ash?" I call him on impulse. My friend turns to me, apparently not at all surprised to see me with my bags.

“Can we talk?” he questions calmly.

“I need to go to the air-” I try to dodge him, but Ash steps in front of me.

“Five minutes. I do not want to fight. I just want to understand you.” he interrupts me.

“You don't understand, Ash.” whisper. “I need to go.”

There's one thing I've always admired about Ashton, that peace he has and emanates. He in no second judges me with his gaze, in fact, this calm almost makes me tell everything, trusting that he would listen to me and believe me. But in seconds this idea loses strength, after all, Luke would not believe me and John could still harm the band.

“You know, I remember the day we met very well. You were the new student in yoga class and I was happy to have someone my age there. We weren't the best students and we talked too much, which caused us to be thrown out of class.” he laughs a little. “But even without that, we became good friends. It is not?”

“Yes,” I whisper, trying to understand where he is going.

“Marnie, I can't explain what was different with you, but I really didn't want to lose touch. I wanted you to be my friend. The problem is, in the end, I took care of you like my little sister. I think I projected that onto you. I've always taken care of Lauren and Harry a lot and I miss them sometimes. I always wanted to and will always protect you, but I need to know exactly what.”

“Ash…” I try to interrupt him but can't.

“I lost you once, in that fucking accident. I lost you to amnesia. I don't want to lose you for a silly thing. Marnie, please just tell me.” he pleads, holding my hands.

It pains me to see him like this. I can see the desperation in his eyes, just as I saw it in Luke's eyes. I know it hurts, but it has to. Ashton was definitely the best friend I've ever had in all my 23 years, I don't need my memory to prove it. Just a conversation with him and I realized our connection. Really, Ashton is the big brother I never had and I'm grateful for that.

Without the strength to want to convince him of the story I had already created, I pull his body to me, hugging my best friend for the last time. He doesn't deny the hug, squeezing me tightly, as if to stop me from going.

“Thanks for everything, Ash. Please don't forget my speech.” I give him a kiss on the cheek, ready to get into the car that has just arrived.

'It wasn't by chance that you and Luke met.” I stop at the door, turning confusing to him. “Ever since I've known you, I've known you'd be perfect for Luke, you're almost the female version of him. I just gave you guys a little push to see each other, because I knew the moment he saw you, he was going to fall in love with you.”

I stare at Ashton for a few more seconds before turning towards the car, feeling the tears wet my cheek once more. I didn't need to be an expert to know that yes, Luke and I were made for each other, but unfortunately, not all soulmates end up together.

I'm so sorry, I know I'm late. I have a undergraduate thesis at the end of the year and I am too busy with it. But I promise not to delay this amazing fic for you anymore. Thank you so much for all the support and affection, you're amazing. Until the next chapter!

P.s. which I will post in a few hours, after all, it's the least I can do after a month of delays. See ya! xoxo

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cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

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Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi} [6/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 6/9

Warnings: none, a little fluff, some suggestive themes but nothing explicit

The next few days pass both quickly and slowly. Every time you look at the clock, mere minutes have passed since the last time, but when you spend your afternoons planning alongside other pros, it’s so fast-paced you can barely keep up.

Shouta and Hizashi made true on their words, calling in personal favours and putting together a capable team of trusted heroes. You supply them with as much information as you can, about Oracle’s visions as well as how Akuma works. By the end of the week, you’ve got an ambush plan in place.

You’ll be the one luring the villain out into the open, since you’re her prime target. You also know that she won’t show herself unless she has a clear getaway, so unfortunately the street where she attacks you has to stay open to the public. But with Shouta on standby in the vicinity, there shouldn’t be any casualties.

Hizashi and a couple others will be nearby, ready to add some extra hands to the fight if necessary, but if everything goes accordingly then Akuma should be in quirk-nullifying handcuffs in under a minute. Then she’ll be brought into custody, and she’ll be out of your life for good.

Still, you’re on edge. Akuma was well known in the underground for being clever and wily. There was always the possibility that something could go awry, in any way, shape, or form. For instance, if one of your team mates got caught in her tar, the whole plan would go to shit.

You sigh deeply and lean back in your deck chair, staring up at the afternoon sky. The closer you got to your supposed death, the more you felt like you were going to fall prey to it, like Oracle said people did. It felt like fate was swallowing you up, ready to consume you whole.

You have to want to come out of this, they’d said, but you were tired. So tired. Exhausted after years and years of horrific sights and fears. You knew you didn’t want to die, but…

“Is that the same thing as wanting to live…?” you ask yourself, not expecting an answer. Would not wanting to die be enough to free you from Akuma, should she catch you? Or was everything for naught, simply because you were having a hard time? What if all you were doing was walking straight into your own death?

You pinch your eyes shut when the sun becomes too bright to bear. Maybe you should have listened to Hizashi while you’d still had the chance; turned tail and run far away from Akuma, and kept running, and running, and running, and never stopping, never living, never slowing down. Ever.

“What is life without experiences,” you mumble, “if not sadness, if not laughter, if not love…”

Running would mean you’d be alive, but not living. Death meant you would be neither. But which was the worse choice, and for whom?

You just wished you had more time-

You pause, blinking your eyes open in surprise. I’m talking as if I know I’m going to die. Have I seriously condemned myself to this fate?

You frown. There’s hope. There has to be. Even if Akuma catches me, there’s hope…

Until there isn’t.

“Shut up,” you tell yourself, in an attempt to quell your cynical inner voice.

How do I fight without hope? Keep moving forward without hope?

Tears bud behind your eyelashes, though not from the brightness of the sky. You sniffle a little, trying to blink them away, but it’s mere seconds before they’re rolling down your cheeks in tidy little streams. Your body trembles with silent sobs, and you curl yourself tighter into a ball. When was the last time you’d even felt hope?

Hell, when was the last time you’d felt happy?

You let yourself cry for a few minutes, allowing your feelings to run their course and dissipate naturally, like your therapist had suggested you do. When your breathing begins to even out, and your thoughts begin to form again, you wipe your eyes.

When did I last feel hope?

“Coming home,” you whisper, “Seeing Shouta and Hizashi in the airport. Seeing them smile. Feeling safe in their arms. Sleeping a full night beside them, without any nightmares. Having them support me, and stand by me, no matter what.”

And imagining the future the three of us could have. Teaching, loving, living. Maybe getting married? Having a family?

It dawns on you then, a blinding revelation. If you found it hard to have hope and fight for yourself, then maybe you could do it for other people. For their hopes, their lives, their families. Protect them, and stay strong for them, until you found the strength to do it for yourself.

You’d survive, you decide. You’d come out of this for Shouta and Hizashi, for their love and their light, because you knew that with them you’d find hope, and a future, and all three of you were willing to fight for it.

----

Your boyfriends arrive home on schedule, to find the dinner table set and you bringing food out to it. Both of them watch you for a moment, taking note of the skip in your step and the smile on your face.

You greet them happily when you see them in the doorway, coming over to give them both a kiss. Shouta returns his gently, which Hizashi captures you in a hug and peppers smooches all over your cheek.

“Now this is a nice treat to come home to,” the blond says, finding a seat at the table. He at least has the manners to wait until everyone else is sitting before piling food onto his plate. “What’s the occasion, sweetheart?”

You shrug and shake your head, scooping a few things onto your own dish. “No occasion. I’m just...feeling good. Better than I have in a while, actually.”

Shouta gives you one of his rare smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he says, “what changed?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “Well, sort of. Something Oracle had said got me to think.”

“Oh?”

“‘If people don’t want to live, then fate will eat them right up’.”

“They said that?” Hizashi asks around a mouthful of dinner.

“I’m paraphrasing,” you tell him. “My point is… I have a lot of shit I need to deal with, a lot of baggage I need to unpack, and two weeks isn’t enough time to do that. So until I can find the means to be strong and hopeful for me, I’ve decided that I’m going to do it for you. To protect your futures, your lives, your hearts, all of it. Even if I don’t have hope now, I know that it’ll come back. I just need to work at it, and be patient.”

By the time you finish your little tangent, Hizashi’s eyes have gotten misty, and Shouta’s have an ill-hidden glint of pride. You reach out slowly towards them, and take one of their hands in both of yours.

“I love you both so much, you know? So much. I always have. And no one is going to take that away from me.”

----

You’re staring at the ceiling, the dark, dark ceiling, as the clock ticks past two. Shouta and HIzashi are laid on either side of you, wedging you comfortably between them. They’re both fast asleep, if their even breaths and quiet snores are anything to go by. Oh, how you envied them.

Instead, though, you’re awake. Very awake, counting the tiles above you for the fourth time. Your earlier pleasant mood has all but vanished, leaving you riddled with your more common anxiety and restlessness.

Careful not to wake your boyfriends, you shimmy out of bed and sneak into the living room, where you then slip outside onto the back deck.

Your intention was to find a cozy spot and watch the city lights in the sky for a while, but instead you find a familiar hooded figure hunkered down on one of the chairs, curled up tightly and looking extremely small.

You take a seat beside them, keeping your eyes trained on them while they catch their breath. Their shoulders are stiff, and their nails are biting into their palms from being curled into such tight fists. You know they wouldn’t have sought you out if they didn’t want to talk, but you still decide not to push them into conversation.

It takes a few minutes for them to speak, breaking the comfortable silence amassed between you.

“I keep seeing people dying,” they mumble, tucking their knees closer to their chest.

“That’s how your quirk works, isn’t it?”

They nod. “Yeah, but I mean specifically next week. Every time I warn someone, it seems like there’s two more visions that need sorting.”

“It sounds tiring,” you admit. “It must be exhausting having other people’s fates in your hands.”

Oracle sighs. They push their hood off and let it flop around their shoulders, finally letting you see their mop of dark hair. They haven’t got their usual mask on tonight either, and you’re sure that you can count a couple freckles splattered across tawny cheeks.

“It is,” they tell you, “not just the mental and emotional toll, but the physical, too. I have seizures every time I have a vision, y’know? I have medication that stops them, but...it also stops the visions.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. You’re genuinely shocked that a quirk could have such an expensive side effect on someone, especially a literal kid.

“Maybe you should take your medication-”

“Not until I have another way to help people!” Their tone is sharp, but they look abashed as soon as the words leave their mouth. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine, kid. I get it.” And you do. All throughout your life, you wanted nothing more than to do good and make a difference in people’s lives, no matter the personal cost. “But...it’s important to take care of yourself too, okay? Otherwise you’ll end up...well, like me.”

They pout at your words, and it looks like they want to make a sarcastic quip, but they decide against it and the two of you lull into silence. It lasts almost ten minutes this time, and for a minute you wonder if Oracle has fallen asleep.

But when you glance over at them, they’re staring at the dark cloudy sky.

“Is...is there any way you can move Akuma’s ambush to a more secluded area?” they ask, voice so quiet you can barely hear them. “Or close the street off?”

“I’m sorry, kid,” your shoulders fall and you cast your eyes downward. “If I could, I would. But this is the only time we know for certain where she’s gonna be. We can’t risk throwing that away. Not for my safety, not for the public’s safety.” Your voice is small and bitter when you utter your next words, “As much I hate to have that mentality, catching her now will save more people in the long run.”

You can feel Oracle’s annoyance bubbling off them, even from several feet away, and quite frankly you don’t blame them. It was an unfortunate way of thinking you’d had to adopt while you were undercover, to keep yourself from trying to save everyone. It was one of the most difficult things you’d ever had to learn, forcing yourself to put your mission and future lives ahead of the currently-suffering.

Every time you’d watched your superiors kill an innocent person, you’d silently promised them that they wouldn’t die for nothing. But it still drove you crazy.

“That’s a stupid way to think,” Oracle hisses.

“I know.”

“People matter. No matter how small their lives may seem, how insignificant, they matter.”

“I know.”

“So if you can’t change the ambush, then I want in on it. I know who I’m looking for. I can find them, and get them out of the area safely.”

You groan inwardly and let your head fall forward. “Kid, I can’t legally allow you to do that-”

“Y/N, please!”

“I said legally.”

They bite their tongue and quiet down, catching onto your plan quickly. You explain to them how the ambush is going to work, letting them know where everyone would be and what roles they’d all play. Oracle winces a little when they realize you’re basically the bait for the whole operation, but you assure them that you’re in good hands. You trust the people you’re working with, and you trust your boyfriends.

“Don’t wear your vigilante uniform either, you’ll be too easily spotted. But make sure you bring a mask in your pocket to protect your identity.”

They nod enthusiastically, hanging on your every word. You emphasize the fact that they need to stay out from underfoot, lest they interfere with the plan you’ve set in place. “And once all your visions are dealt with, you get out of there. You don’t stick around to try and help more people. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at their childish demeanor, and silently wonder if you’ve made the right choice in letting them help, or if you’d just sentenced a kid to their demise.

A shiver wracks your body and draws you out of your thoughts, and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re only in thin shorts and a tank top.

“You should go inside,” Oracle says, standing up. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick. Besides, it’s almost three, and I have class at eight. I should go home before my dad scolds me.”

Your heart aches for them, for the stress they have bearing down on such young shoulders.

You stand up beside them, stretch, and shiver again. “What are you studying for?” you ask before they leave, hiding a smile when their face lights up.

“I’m gonna be an EMT!” they declare proudly. “I’ve always wanted to help people, even before I knew what to do with my quirk. I figured that since I work well under pressure, a high stress job would be suitable.”

You smile fondly at them, feeling some kind of almost-parental affection. “Keep working at it, then, and I’m sure you’ll get there. You’re a smart kid.”

They grin back at you with a cheeky expression. “The day that ‘Oracle’ disappears is the day you’d better watch out for me on the scene! I’ll be there, in the background.”

You bid your goodnights to each other after that, and you wait until they’re out of sight before walking back into the warmth of the house.

When you get in, you’re somehow unsurprised to find Shouta waiting for you on the couch. His expression and posture are both relaxed and neutral, but you can tell there’s something on his mind.

“How much did you hear?” you ask sheepishly.

“Enough,” he says. “You’re letting a vigilante help? Do you even know them?”

You take a seat beside him on the couch, falling sideways to cuddle up on his chest. He tosses an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and holding you safe.

“They’re the one who gave us this opportunity in the first place,” you chide, “without them, I’d be dead and you’d be getting a solemn phonecall about it. Besides, they would’ve shown up anyways. At least this way, they can stay out from under our feet.”

Shouta sighs deeply, a low rumble you feel against your body. His arm tightens around you ever so slightly, and you glance up at him.

“What’re you thinking about?” you wonder, reaching up to curl a few strands of his hair around your fingers.

“Oracle. They just...remind me a lot of my students, is all.”

“How so?”

“Young and naive, determined to the point of stupidity-”

You snicker quietly.

“-but hopeful, and filled with potential. Granted they have a good guiding hand.”

You stretch up and lay a couple soft kisses along his jaw. “You’re students are lucky to have you,” you tell him honestly. “As am I.”

You lay there for a few more minutes, sharing idle thoughts and sweet kisses, simply enjoying each other’s company. You know he’s worried about the fight to come, about your survival, as well as the people caught in the crossfire. You know he’d never say any of it out loud, but you can feel it in the tension he carries.

Hoping to ease him a little, you deepen your kisses, moving your lips slowly and sensually, teasing him with the tip of your tongue. He makes a noise low in his throat, and before you know it he’s flipped your positions, caging you in beneath him.

You whine as he mouths along your jaw and throat, squirming a little against the weight of his body as his hands slip under your shirt to knead at your chest. His lips trail further and further downwards, and you eagerly press up against him, moving around so his thigh comes to rest between your legs. But just as you’re ready to fully submit to him, he pauses.

“The things I’d love to do to you,” he mutters, and pulls back. You make a noise of protest, wriggling a little to try and reestablish the delicious attention he’d been giving you.

He shushes you with a kiss.”Behave,” he tells you firmly, a thinly veiled order that only serves to spark your arousal. “You’re exhausted, Y/N. As much as I’d love to have my way with you, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

You hate to admit it in such circumstances, but you know he’s right. You feel heavy and hazy, and not just from his earlier ministrations.

He gives one last kiss to the crown of your head, and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet alongside him. You wander back to bed together, smiling when you find Hizashi still out cold, and slip quietly back under the covers.

You fade into sleep to the sound of soft goodnights.

----

You’re alone the next morning when you wake, as per usual. You vaguely recall your boyfriends kiss you good morning and then goodbye, but you had still been mostly asleep then.

You’re pretty certain you’d had some unsettling dreams, no different than usual, but it shocked you how quickly you’d gotten used to not having them. A couple good days in a row, and you were left quaking by the return of your nightmares.

There was the familiar imagery of your past, of course, it was something you dreamt of often. But alongside those thoughts were worries and fears of your future. At this point, you had less than a week until Akuma’s attack, and your nerves were starting to get the better of you.

Despite your earlier enthusiasm about ‘staying strong for other people’, you’re once again finding it difficult to imagine a happy outcome. Your therapist had mentioned you’d have high points and low points in your recovery, and that you couldn’t force yourself to feel or not feel either of them. But what if you were in a low point during the attack? What if you got caught and you couldn’t find the strength that day to get out?

What if ‘being in a low spot’ meant you’d die?

You grumble and pinch your eyes shut, rolling over in bed, but it’s too bright and you’re too alert now to fall back asleep.

Maybe you’d feel better if you did something today. You knew your schedule was clear for the afternoon, not having a therapy session until tomorrow. Maybe you could try and brave the mall again…

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to cope, should you get anxious, but a little piece of you really really wanted to try. Plus, you were running out of clothes to wear, and you’d already done the laundry twice.

Maybe you could get something for your boys, too…

----

The mall is less busy than the last time you’d ventured out, which you’re grateful for. Fewer people overall, and a quieter atmosphere made it a little easier to handle, but you still had a pair of Hizashi’s fancy headphones tucked away in case you needed some quiet.

You wander in and out of several stores, perusing the clothes and trying a few things on. You end up putting most of it back on the shelves, but you manage to find two or three things in every store you visit. It’s a substantial haul when all is said and done, and your arms are loaded with bags.

In the past, you would have smacked yourself on the back of the head for spending so much money in one sitting, but with the paycheck you’d gotten for your time undercover, you could afford to go a little overboard.

At least the commission hadn’t been stingy on it’s compensation, for all the shit you had to deal with now.

You set your purchases down on an empty bench and sort your clothes into just a few bags, so it would be easier to carry home. Part of you cringes when you look at the receipts, but you quickly shove them away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then, just when you’re about to pack up and leave, a blindingly pink store catches your eye. Oh.

Well, you had wanted to get something for Hizashi and Shouta...and thinking back to the previous night, when Shouta’d had his hands up your shirt, you know that both of them would appreciate something like that.

So you wander into the lingerie shop, growing shy as you wander around the racks and look at all the options. You didn’t want something too difficult to remove, even though all the strings and straps would be sexy, and you didn’t want something too plain, or innocent.

You think hard about it as you flip through clothes hangers and observe each set. Wrong colour, wrong shape, wrong size, too flashy, not flashy enough, itchy fabric...it feels like an impossible mission to find anything even remotely suitable.

You’re just about to give up and walk out, when your eyes land on one of the mannequins. It was unrealistically proportioned, but you were more interested in the lingerie it was displaying. Simple, classic, elegant, sexy...it was perfect.

You find your size on the shelf beside the display, and walk out of the store a few minutes later with another bag in hand, feeling remarkably pleased with yourself. You only hope your boyfriends wouldn’t tear the set to shreds when they finally got their hands on you.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 5 years ago

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Beatrice to my Benedick - Steven Hyde x reader

Dear diary,

Being the best student in literature has it's perks, like getting paired with the worst student for the big end-of-the-year project. Steven Hyde took this class because he thought it was an easy A, but he was wrong. The only A he got in that class was A headache.

Why would it be a perk to get paired with him, you may wonder? Well, I liked Steven for a while now. We barley exchange words, but if there was a looks class, that's his easy A. his attitude needs a bit of work, but his cynical comments make the class better, and the way he threw in every irrelevant fact possible to piss off Mr. D was… I don't even know how to explain, attractive? I adore the fact he gives zero fucks about who gives a fuck. And now I have a chance to get to know him as more than the troublemaker. Will I fuck it up? probably. Wish me luck.

(y\n) close the notebook she used as a diary and pushed it under the closed book on her desk, going back to copying from the bored the assignment. The big end of the year project was to take a Shakespeare play and plan how a current day adaption of it would look. "much like west side story taking Romeo and Juliet's story and placing it in the times of the 50's, with street gangs instead of high-class feuding families, touching subjects that are relevant to the time like immigrants and the way we treat them" Mr. D explained farther. There was one thing that man loves more than homework: Shakespeare. The bell rings, and (y\n) started to pack up her things.

"listen, you're like, really smart and I'm not so how about you do everything and I get 50% of the credit". Those words came out of a mouth belonged to a curly haired, sun-glasses wearing handsome guy. "no" she said, pushing her things in her backpack and getting up, "that's fucking stupid, I'm not letting you do nothing and get an A" she kept talking, but the moment she looked at him she started to stutter. "common, you know I'll just ruin you’re a, do you want to ruin your perfect scoresheet?" Steven Hyde kept insisting. "n-no, look, that's, uh, that's a really big project" she replied. "fine" he sighed, giving up quicker then she expected. "you're place right after school?" he offered. "sure" she smiled, not really knowing how to function next to him. she was okay as long as she didn't wonder if his eyes look her up and down behind the sunglasses, so she looked away from him. "do you have a car here? Cause I drove with a friend this morning, so I don't have one here. Or in general, I don't, I don't have my license… yet, don't have it yet" (y\n) said. She was still messing up her sentences, even without looking at him. "yeah, I have a car. I'll meet you at the exit, bye" he said, ignoring her rumbling. "okay, see you" she said, waving behind him. "shit" she mumbled the moment he was out of her sight, leaving the classroom to go to her next one.

The school day was finally over, and (y\n) stood by the gate, waiting for Steven to come. He arrived, finally. He barley waved at her, but she followed him to the car anyways. He opened the door for her, still quiet. "didn't expect you to be the gentleman type" she mumbled, but he heard. "I'm not, but you seem like you wouldn't dare to touch my car without my permission. Just saving time" he said as he sat down beside her. "oh" she said, a bit disappointed. He was right though; she'd probably embarrass herself by asking "do I just open it? Can i?", and she has made herself enough of a fool in front of him already. He started the car and turned on the radio. "if you have a problem with the music, suck it" he said. He pressed the gas and they left the school.

"what makes you think I don't like the rolling stones?" she asked him, and he looked at her for a second before moving his eyes back on the road. "you seem like a good girl type of… girl" he said, stopping as the lights turned red. "being a good girl doesn’t mean I can't enjoy good music" she laughed. His surprise made her proud, for some reason. "good point" he said, "who else do you like?" he asked. "take a left after the lights" she said, giving him directions to get to her house, "and as for your question - Led Zeppelin are great, Aerosmith" she listed, and he nodded in approval. "maybe you're not that bad. I was planning to be a dick and make you want to do the project alone, but I might have to actually help a fellow rock fan" he said. "thank you..?" she said, her tone making it a question. "you better thank me" he said, turning the wheel. The car took a sharp left, and she thought she's gonna die for a second. "the next right and then-" "wait, that's the rich part of town" Hyde cuts her off, "man, this might be a lot more fun than expected "he smiled, and she sighed. "look, just, don't talk about it to you're friends, okay? I just don't want people to look at me as a rich stuck-up" she asks. "honey, everyone thinks you're a stuck-up anyways" Hyde replies, "with you're way too nice behavior, and the way you never go off the rails. You try to hard to be good, people think you think you're better then us" he says, popping her bubble. "I'm not better then you, I just don't want a criminal record" she replied, immediately defending her name. "do people really think so?" she asked after a moment of silence. "yeah" he said.

They finally got to her house. "dude, you are-" "don't say that" she cuts him off. They went inside and settled in her room. "so, what play do you want to make-up an adaption for?" she asks. "uh, let's do something easy. Romeo and Juliet, but it's high school and we can talk about the effects of social-status on our lives" Steven said. "everyone is going to that" (y\n) says, "we need something else".

She takes the book of off her nightstand. "what's that?" Steven asks her. "the comedies of Shakespeare" she replies. "it's- you read that for fun?" Hyde laughs. "yes" she says, "got a problem with that?" she says, raising an eyebrow. The comfort of her house returned her ability to talk, and the longer she spent time with him the more conferrable she felt. Plus, she barely looked at him. she hands him the book and allows him to choose a title.

"what's this one?" he asks, pointing at the letters forming "Much Ado About Nothing". "oh, this is one of my favorites" she smiles, "a soldier falls in love with the daughter of the governor, evil guy makes Claudio – the soldier – to think Hero – the daughter – is unfaithful. Meanwhile, Don Pedro, who's also a soldier, is setting up the third soldier – Benedick - with the niece of the governor – her name is Beatrice, and that's most of the plot. Also, evil dude? Half-brother of Don Pedro" she explains. "so… jock likes principal's daughter, who's in... I don't know, chess? Then dude from Chess club is like "man, she's cheating on you". Other Jock dude and other girl in chess club fall in love as well" Steven makes up a way to place the story in current times and an environment they know enough to do the assignment. "okay, not that bad for someone who wanted to not do the work" she laughed, and sat down at her bed, "let's get to work". He sat down beside her, and they started working.

Weeks pass by, and the project is finally done. "that's sad, I was actually enjoying working with you" (y\n) said, after they handed out the project. "we can still hang out, you can come with me to the Forman's, I think Donna would like you, and you can have a nerd-down with Eric. He's obsessed with Star Wars, you read Shakespeare for fun… which one's the nerdier?". "I love Star Wars" she says. "and… it's you. You are such a nerd" he smiled, and she laughed. "sure, yeah, that's be cool. See you after school, you can drive cause, you know, I don't have a car, or a license-" "yeah, I know" he says, and waves goodbye as he walks away. "yup, great, just. great" she sighs.

They arrive at the Forman's and turns out Steven was right, she got along with his friends right away. Kelso hit on her after less than a minute, Fez made her feel a mix of fluttered and uncomfortable, Donna and her got along perfectly and Eric and her managed to start an argument regarding a star-wars thing no one else understood. They settled it eventually, when Jackie asked them to "stop, I don't want your nerdiness to stick to me, that’s just.. ugh". "well, I'll go to the bathroom for a sec, Donna, my notebook is in my bag, you can copy the homework" (y\n) said, and went upstairs, leaving her bag behind. Donna took out a notebook and flipped through, realizing this is not the right notebook.

"that's not science, that's her diary" Donna sighs, putting it aside and looking for the right notebook. "ohhh, juicy" Jackie laughed and grabbed the diary, reading through. "don't read it, it's personal" Kelso says, taking the notebook away, "how would you feel If someone read your diary?" he asked while reading the page Jackie was reading a second ago. "dude, that's rude" Steven said, and took the diary away. He was about to put it back in her back, but he noticed his name, and started reading it. "I liked steven for a while now…" he says outload. "Steven Hyde, what the fuck?!" (y\n) calls out, takimg the diary from his hands. "That's- how can you do this?" she sighed, tears forming in her eyes. She took her bag and ran off, not giving Steven the chance to explain, or react to what he just read.

He ran after her.

"(y\n), wait!" he called after her, running as fast as he could. He catches up quickly, since his legs were longer than her's. "listen, okay?" he says, and she sighs, grabbing her hand. "no" she said, trying to pull her arm out of his. "please?" "no" "please?" "no" "please?" "n-" they argued back and forth, until he kissed her. "please?" "okay" she gave up. "I like you, (y\n). look, Donna took it out instead of the science notebook, and I took it away from Kelso to put it back, and then I saw my name. I had to read it, I needed to know if it says you like me. You're like... the Beatrice to my Benedick" he said, embarrassed to admit that was the information he looked for. "oh" she says, "I guess that's… weirdly sweet" her smile finally shows up on her tear-covered face. "don't call me sweet" Steven sighs. She laughs. "I mean, I know you'll say yes, cause, you know, I read you're diary-" "don't mention that, please" "-sorry, but, do you want to go out sometime?" he asks. "no" she says, "I don't date guys that read my diary, so-" he kissed her once again, this time the kiss is deeper and more passionate. Their lips move perfectly against each other's lips. They finally cut off the kiss to breath. "however, I do date good kissers, so, I guess I... I guess I'd go put with you, sure" she sighs, hands on the collar of his shirt. "cool" he smiled, and took her hand, leading her back to his friend's basement.

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde imagine #steven hyde imagines #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #that 70s show imagines #that 70s show x reader

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blacksunscorpio · 5 years ago

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Sick page Leo Midheaven. You gained a follower. What placements do you like in others?

P.S. I Love You to the Signs/Placements

Scorpio Mercury’s

..Have silky, haunting voices. I will not know who is speaking or singing but my ears will pulsate and then I’m stuck in a trance. For example, Snoop Dogg has a silvery sounding voice. Could be all the cannabis but I’m gonna chalk it up to his Mercury sitting in all that Plutonic energy. Sza sings in a cursive-esque manner. Like some powerful serpent through water, It’s enticing. The lead singer of the band ‘Chevelle’ has his Mercury in Scorpio and I could listen to him croon forever.

Cancer Mercury’s

...Have ethereal sounding pipes. I think it’s all that moon energy. It’s melancholic but in a lullaby way. Just read me the yellow pages in that voice. Lana Del Rey sings like she’s howling at the moon. Long and mournful and drawn out, like it echoes.

Capricorn Moons/Placements

...I like how disciplined you are. How hardworking you are. Your regimented approach and your ruthless ambition to excel. I could do without some of your cruelty at times and though people can take you for cold, I feel your practical approach to things is something everyone can learn from.

Capricorn Mercury’s

After the first two, your Mercury placement is everything. It is structured. Haunting. Hypnotic. Anthony Hopkins and James Earl Jones both have this placement. Deep and earthy. Penetrating.

Libra Placements/ Risings

You are beautiful. Period. I love how you try to be diplomatic. How you see the good in people. You have to work on your ability to stand up for yourself a bit more but us cynics need you around to remind us a life of war isn’t the only way.

Arians/Martians

Especially in the 1st house: I love how authentic you are at the ascendant. I love that you don’t take any shit from anyone. You’re not afraid to call out a fake or a phony. When it’s time to go to war, you [all] have been my most loyal allies. You never compromise your ideals or morals for anyone. Your thick skin. Your energy and resilience, It’s admirable.

Taurus Risings/Taurean/Venusian Placements.

I admire your grit and tenacity. Believe it or not, I admire how stubborn you can be. How you love facts and figures. How you speak fluent sarcasm. I admire your elegance and your appreciation for the finer things in life. I love that you are not afraid to indulge in them either. That you realize there is no shame in a life of prosperity. You are what best friends are made of.

Most Elevated Planet as Uranus

I am in awe of your rebellious energy. Your “fuck the world” approach to life. Uranians in general, I admire that you move to the beat of your own drum and find ways to capitalize on it. That Alien energy is so ‘fetch’ ;). This is a placement of the outlaw that still makes a name for themselves. Mafia Boss Carlo Gambino and The Late Great Nipsey Hussle have their Most elevated Planet as Uranus.

Virgo Placements

I love how detail-oriented you are. Virgo Mars’ I love how you care for your health and physique. Though your nitpicking can be annoying, sometimes love comes in the form of correction and you capitalize on this. The rest of the Zodiac need people like you to fact check and clock all the things the rest of us miss. I love how facts figures just come to you out of nowhere. How you, as an Earth sign mesh well with me, Water. How you stay out of Scorpio’s way. Virgo’s are the placement I have had the least issues with.

Capricorn Mars’

I would make love to you forever if I could. Your Stamina is unmatched.

Cancer Placements [Even the men]

I appreciate your nurturing nature. How you’re always trying to make sure everyone is Ok. How your devotion is unmatched when someone is finally able to get you out of your shell. How protective you get. How your anger is biblical if you or a loved one is crossed.

Leo Placements

You fight for the people you love. How you will start a melee just to protect your friends. How you’re like gravity, and people are simply drawn to you. Your regal presence. I could do without your drama sometimes but even that can be a sight in itself. Your warmth and joviality. Your natural leadership capabilities.

Gemini Placements

I hate you and can’t stay away from you at the same time. You’re fascinating. Your intelligence, how you can piece together an idea with ease. How you can bullshit like no other. The gift of gab, your charm, your cleverness, your ability to debate anything and make fair points at the same time. How you are the social butterfly of the zodiac. Will I ever trust you? Absolutely not. If you fuck with me, will I destroy you? Probably. But I’ve had some of the best experiences conversationally and socially with you around. You light up the room.

Jupiter/Sag Placements

You make me so happy. You make everyone happy. Your jolly nature. Your penchant for exploration. How you love to learn from others. How you’re not afraid to shout and be joyful [even if your other placements are more introverted]. Your ability to connect with people from all walks of life due to your ability to expand, not just your mind but your heart. I appreciate your ability to never stay in the same place for long. This world is meant to be explored and you are the authority on this.

Neptunian/Piscean Placements

You are unrivaled when it comes to intuition. I love your ability to dream, to think up all kinds of fantastic things. How you pick up on the subtleties and nuances that many others miss. How you’re not afraid to be vulnerable. That in itself is a gift. Your talent with music and art. How your serenades could make Orpheus jealous.

Lilith Dominants

Kings and Queens, Your ‘Devil May Care” attitude is savage and I am here for it. You are unapologetic with the way you live your life. You do what you want, eat what you want, fuck who you want, and never mind the consequences. You do what we all wish we had the balls to. Hedonism is not a sin to you but a perfectly acceptable way to live. We should all be brave enough to do as we wish and not care what others think.

Plutonians

I will ride forever for you. This includes Moon/Pluto folk, Venus/Pluto folk, Mars/Pluto folk Sun/Pluto folks, etc. This is why I scream “GANG!” when one of you messages me and anyone who has an issue with it can have a seat in the back with the rest of the bitches waiting for me to give AF. I admire your intensity. I admire how deeply you feel everything. How you own being misunderstood. Your commitment to finding out the truth no matter what. Your unapologetic mission to seek vengeance justice when you’re wronged. How you can cook up a hex/curse like no other. Your devotion is only rivaled/matched to Leo’s. How you can seduce almost anyone with just a glance. How you accept and embrace sexuality and don’t apologize for it. How you’re able to read minds. Your tactician-like approach to everything. How you don’t fear the dark, but rather embrace it.

Chiron Dominants

...Or those with strong Chiron aspects, thank you for trying to heal everyone even when you’re hurting. Your ability to teach and know just where someone needs a pick me up is everything. There is a special place saved in Elysium for you.

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purekesseltrash · 4 years ago

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Chapter 10 of Bury Them Deep is out! Fave Excerpt: 'Sato had shown up near the end of the day and had loudly and repeatedly told Mezou about the multiple casseroles he had made for them and how the casseroles were in the freezer. He’d nearly gotten Mezou to break for a moment there, tempting him to correct Sato that no, those were hotdishes and not casseroles because they were not barbarians in this dorm. He’d held his tongue. Ojiro, however, had later squawked, “HE EVEN FUCKING LABELED THEM WRONG,” when he opened the freezer, loud enough that Mezou could hear him as though he was in the same room.' Fun facts (I'm just gonna put them all under the cut):

- FINALLY THE SHINOJI. If you are thinking 'wow, didn't see that coming', that's the point! Neither did Shouji although, to be fair, he has had a lot on his mind. I do really, really like ShinOji though. I find the dynamic really interesting, the jaded, cynical guy who excels at pushing everyone away with the all around nice guy who is generally very polite but who has also had to work extremely hard to get to where he has gotten to and takes a good deal of pride in that. I do also really like the whole dynamic of 'You have wronged me in the past in a very unfair way and we have to figure out what we are going to be able to do with that'. - You might have caught Ojiro saying that his professor, Brava, wasn't picky on tardyness. Ojiro is a computer science major in this world, who goes on to work in info sec where he excels at showing companies how social engineering can screw them up. He does this by going in and being such a boring, non threatening person that he's able to get access that he absolutely shouldn't have. Yes, I have thought too much about this. - This whole chapter was not in my original outline. However, like I said, I needed some consequences for Shouji, so here it is. I really liked the idea of the team just being there for him. It's my favorite way of supporting a friend going through shit. - I touch on it a little, but Ojiro had a BAD FRESHMAN YEAR. He shows up thinking that he is this great hockey player and this super smart guy only to find that nope. He's average, actually. Plus his girlfriend and best friend since forever abruptly breaks up with him and won't tell him why, it's because she realized she was gay, and he is having a sexuality crisis of his own. On top of that, he has the ongoing nightmares from having woken up in the park all alone and scared as hell, that being the first time that he really realizes that he is mortal and can be hurt. He has teammates that are gay and out and for a kid raised so so heavily in the church, that is just mind blowing but it is even more insane when Shouji, who is quiet and weird but is absolutely a good guy, finally tells him that he's gay. And Ojiro suddenly has to deal with the fact that the things that he was told about gay people have to be wrong, because Bakugo might be an asshole but Shouji isn't. - And then he breaks his tailbone. And good lord but from the googling that I have done, I wish that on no one. He's basically bed bound and would pass out if he tried to move too much. That is the point where the doubts that he has been stifling for years suddenly come up and he realizes that he doesn't believe in God anymore. Needless to say, it's a BAD TIME. But Shouji is always there because again, Shouji is a good guy. And Sato is always there, because defense partners have to be there for each other. Kirishima and Kaminari stop by a lot too, but Ojiro mainly unloads on Sato and Shouji because they're the ones that understand him culturally the best. And he talks about God and about pain and how he doesn't think that his dad will ever get over how Ojiro looks just like his deceased mom and how cruel that is and also how he doesn't think that he's straight. And Sato and Shouji listen and do their best to be supportive, even if they are so, so far out of their depth. - When he heals up, he's a different person, in a way. He's not holding on to this remnant of who he was, not the pastor's kid. He's Mashi. And he's going to figure shit out for himself. And he's going to be okay. LIKE I SAID, I HAVE THOUGHT TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS WORLD and yes, I might write a fic for this. -That scene where Shinsou comes in to relieve Ojiro so he can go to class and when they're just looking at each other? Ojiro got surprised by the look in Shinsou's eyes, like he's something special and that.... that's not something that he sees but he likes it. - The fact that I wrote Todoroki Shouto eating lutefisk and tater tot casserole (I'm a Nebraskan, it's a casserole, not a hot dish, bite me) will go down as my greatest act of writing. I am just. So pleased with that. And yes, the foods mentioned are real and they're all okay, except for Dot's Pretzels which are AMAZING. - Ngl, when I wrote the scene with Masa and the cat, I just ached for Shouji. Because Masa definitely has his faults and while he was supportive always of Shouji, he does definitely need to be the good kid, as Kenta says. Kenta was really fun to write. - Kenta's lesbian friend is Haruka because Sailor Uranus was my queer awakening and you gotta give props. - The fact that I only have two more of these to write bums me out. I'm gonna miss updating this fic. But I'm proud of it.

#btd

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