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dashielldeveron · 2 years ago

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soulmate trope | aizawa, part one.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part one bc tumblr formatting weird. Part two here.

Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.

Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.

~38k overall. ~20k for part one.

You didn’t have a soulmate, and that was just how you liked it.

Because instead of being hooked to one of your weird-ass classmates, you were free to continue to harbour your crush for your weird-ass homeroom teacher, and you nurtured your crush like a stray kitten brought out of the rain. A creature comfort, really, this affection for Aizawa Shouta—a creature no one knew you kept hidden in the back laundry room and sneaked scraps.

You’re not stupid. The man has to stay your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year, until graduation. Besides, you did have a sneaky little goal with your crush, though it will probably never come to fruition. It’s not an immediate plan in which you corner him after class to beg for sexual extra credit, no, but it’s a long, onerous, masochistic plot of delayed gratification: sometime down the road after graduation, you’ll casually run into him on a patrol, casually suggest you two share a drink to catch up, and then casually I-miss-you-terribly-sensei-you-deserve-to-sleep-more-oh-wow-your-hands-are-really-big-what-if-I-place-them-right-between-my-legs your way into his heart.

For now, the most you can do is be the best student you can. Yes, Yaoyorozu is most likely always going to beat you in chemistry and some maths, since her quirk relies on her knowledge of those subjects, but you’re positively gruntled and satisfied with your place at the top for humanities, along with trading top spots in other subjects with the same three or four people.

But mostly, you tried to be 1) resourceful and 2) not annoying, because Aizawa dealt with a lot of teacher bullshit, probably.

So, while you knew about stories in which students would seduce their teachers by favours (sexual or not), lingering innuendo, or flashing lacy underwear from their seats, you weren’t going to do that shit. 1) How dumb, 2) how embarrassing, and 3) you didn’t want your (hopefully future!) relationship founded on cliches for student/teacher relationships. How a relationship starts shouldn’t have to be a secret, either, or be something to be ashamed of.

(Because you could just picture your family’s faces at Christmas if you said something like, “Hey, this is my boyfriend, Aizawa; he used to be my teacher, and we started dating after I sucked him off under his desk while he was giving a lesson.”

Although, admittedly, there’s probably no good way to introduce a former teacher as your boyfriend.)

You figured, for now, it was enough to stand out in a quiet way, never outright begging for his attention, yet somehow landing in situations in which you got it. You liked to think that Aizawa appreciated that you read when you finished your classwork early instead of talking to your friends (guiltily activating your cringey not-like-other-girls complex that you tried to suppress), along with being attentive in class in general, and you landed an unexpected advantage in Midnight.

Since your first year’s sports festival, you’ve been her sidekick. Well, first you were her intern, and then you signed on the next school year. It was mostly academic work instead of hero work at this point in her career, but you found you liked it and her. You tagged along to record events and complete evals and rubrics, and running her errands allowed you into the staff room, where Aizawa was often curled up in his office chair or on the couch. And hopefully, Aizawa heard good things about you from Midnight.

Midnight’s current project when not teaching or on active missions was rehabbing female villains. She was easy to trust. They tended to let down their guards around her, eventually, and it fascinated you the way the system treated male and female villains differently—

“Hey,” whispered Mina, hunching forward in her desk to tap you on the shoulder, “You got back from Sakura Grove Rehab with Midnight really late last night. Did something happen with Tainted Love?”

You shot a look towards the front of the classroom, where Aizawa was gripping the podium intensely in an effort to stay standing, and once you garnered he wasn’t paying attention to you (big sigh), you turned slightly in your seat to whisper back. “False alarm,” you said, shaking your head, “She used her emergency buzzer because she heard that BTS released a music video, and she wanted to see it.”

Grinning, Mina nodded. “Normal BTS fan stuff. Is a member her soulmate, or something?”

“Don’t you think she’d be dead by now if she were? Ito said—sorry, Tainted Love said that they’re all simply very easy on the eyes and that she’s a connoisseur of human beauty. But her ass is in trouble right now, because the staff’s pissed they had to break out the emergency procedures for that.”

“I don’t know,” said Mina, fiddling with her earring, “I think that’s completely fair. It’s, uh—girlboss, gaslight, get-to-see-BTS.”

You snorted, covering your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s the wrong order, and you know it—”

“Since you have the energy to talk during a lesson—” Aizawa called towards you, his voice sharp, and your head snapped towards the front of the classroom. “—then I expect you’ll be capable of a higher calibre of effort and example for the class in your stealth presentation today.”

“Absolutely,” you said, recovering and folding your hands on your desk, “I’m ready when everyone else is.”

Aizawa gave a dismissive wave and allowed the class to leave the four minutes early to change and head towards ground beta. You’d already triple-checked that all of your support gear was ready, because it was your day in the rotation to serve as a combat example to the rest of your peers. Your focus for the past month had been on stealth, so you were presenting on your findings—presenting through whatever challenge was posed to you at the hands of one of the faculty.

Giddy, you headed towards ground beta much more quickly than your friends, who were still getting dressed. Since you’d be presenting on stealth, you had a good idea of which teacher you’d be facing.

Aizawa was waiting at the entrance, himself clad in full gear. You shot him a cheerful wave, which he lazily returned, and you retreated to one of the benches nearby and opened the book you’d brought along.

(You don’t want to aggravate him, and what’s more, if you talk to him before your challenge, you’re going to be thinking about your conversation during it. Aizawa will be more impressed with your performance if you don’t fuck it up due to daydreaming about his cock.)

Making yourself comfortable, you lay down on the bench, holding the book above you to block out the sun.

Aizawa pushed his goggles back into his hair. “You have a book,” he said (asked?) flatly as he trailed towards you.

“You have a sleeping bag,” you said, jerking your head towards the yellow bundle wadded up by the door, “We must both be relaxed about this presentation.”

Crossing his arms, Aizawa carefully leant against the door and squinted down at you. “Do you not see me as a threat?”

You tore your gaze away from your book to look up at him, tilting your head backwards to smile into his scowl. “Should I?”

Kirishima and Tokoyami burst in and broke up the conversation before it turned into something that got you off for weeks.

Once the rest of the class clambered towards ground beta, Aizawa cleared his throat and addressed the class about the challenge; he spoke with his back to you (and a couple of others), since most of the class clumped in one spot.

“Sero’s melee close-combat presentation yesterday will be a tough act to follow, but today is our first presentation on stealth. Bakugou, Aoyama—your stealth presentations won’t be following the same format, but take inspiration from it.” Aizawa stowed his hands in the deep pockets of his jumpsuit and shifted his weight forward slightly, his broad shoulders lost under his capture weapon. “Hagakure and Tokoyami, I specifically want your critique of your peer’s performance today. Be ready to give her advice. I will be the faculty member she is up against, and—” Frowning, Aizawa cut himself off, did a quick head count, and spun in your direction, his hair whipping at the movement.

Seeing you reading over on the bench (which you were still doing in what was hopefully a sexy devil-may-care, fuck-the-police way), Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose before spreading his palm over both of his eyes, heaving a sigh, and dragging his hand down his face. He then held it out in from of him and curled his fingers to beckon you closer. “C’mon; I know you said you weren’t threatened, but now you’re pushing it.”

You were sunshine; you were ease, and you were pushing it, for some reason. But you were feeling it, so you cheerfully trotted up to Aizawa, in front of whom you halted expectantly and bounced on the balls of your feet, hands holding your book behind your back as you waited for further instruction.

He cleared his throat and snapped, holding out his hand farther to confiscate your book. You shunted it towards him, and when Aizawa took it, your fingers grazed his—your pinkie and ring fingers just barely brushing against his thumb.

And.

And it’s a rickety, staticky, lightning-type thing, this wave of thunder that rushes through you, branching from where you touched him—a two-second, core-shaking rumble that only you can feel.And there’s an electric jolt.

Vibrant pink blossomed from the points of contact, staining the skin like watery ink.

Two seconds. Two seconds compressing what must be years and years of salient moments yet to come, and they—they all had him, Aizawa, in flashes of memories (?) integrating him more and more into your life. And you knew, in that shock and subsequent ooze, how it felt to be pulled into his arms and held like you’re something precious—wrapping around you while he’s half-asleep and acting on instinct, hunching and curling over your back to shield you from a backdrop of a battlefield—the feeling of you two lying together bare. You heard the crack of his voice in the morning as he nuzzled closer to you in bed, the rumbling vibration when he growled against your skin. Felt a ghost of his fingers digging into your hips as you arched beneath him (rocking, writhing), sucking a small spot on your neck, kissing down your shoulders, your back. A shiver as he trailed his hand down the inside of your thigh. A prolonged kiss to your collarbone. The passage of thunder left your body sore, like live-or-death level adrenaline had just faded. For a moment, your knees were in danger of buckling.

Aizawa must have seen—felt—the same phantom sensations, because once a noise from the class snapped him out of it, he grimaced, tucking your book and the pink-marked hand under his opposite arm.

Ducking your head to stare at your shoes, you took a step back, overheated and too aware that the class was watching.

“Recovery Girl’s office,” Aizawa said, his voice rasping, “Now.”

You bolted.

***

You slumped in the sky-blue plastic chair in the patient area of Recovery Girl’s office, unable to shake the sensation of his arms around you. You shuddered and hunkered over, a wave of misery washing over you as the last vestiges of his warmth (?) faded. Fucking figures that the only time in your life you’ve ever been in someone’s arms is in a goddamn vision and not reality.

On the other hand.

The pads of the two fingers that touched Aizawa were blemished with the same bright pink as that dust you’d inhaled the day Tainted Love’s team had invaded, and the colour wouldn’t rub off on your hero costume when you tried. An evil sort of smile spread across your face.

You jolted in your seat when the door slammed open, the knob banging into the wall, and Aizawa stormed in, shoving one of two clipboards into your lap.

“Quirk incident form,” he spat, a plastic chair scraping against the tile as he yanked it next to (but not too closely to) yours.

You slid the pen out from underneath the clip. “This says it’s a soulmate registry form.”

Aizawa glanced up at you, already a few strokes into writing his name in the first blank. “Tainted Love’s team had utilised her quirk enough before attacking U.A. that a specific form had to be made. Nevertheless,” he said, finishing the kanji for sho with so much pressure that the paper ripped slightly, “it’s a subset of the Quirk Incident Registrar.”

Huh. You supposed you should’ve known about the paperwork, since you’re working with her, but then, you’re dealing with personal rehabilitation, not the bureaucratical aftermath.

Following his lead, you quietly began to fill out your form. Basic stuff, really: name, home address, current address (dorms), quirk, soulmate’s name and quirk…

“How would you describe our inciting soulmate incident? Are you only putting first physical contact, or are you mentioning something about the, uh,” you said, leaning over to see his paper, but he flipped his clipboard up against his chest to hide it from view.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Aizawa, finally looking you in the eye. His tight grip on his pen didn’t dilute the saturation of the pink on his thumb. “And we’re not going to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone about this, and I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Oh, he’s repressed repressed. “Not even my mother?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important happened today, and nothing’s going to happen.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, moving onto the next section of the form, “I was already picking out China patterns.”

He flipped his clipboard out enough to continue writing. “Don’t even joke.”

“Hey, it says I need your phone number.”

“Leave that part blank. I’ll fill it out once before turning both of them in.”

That little sneak. “Wow. You really are intent on having nothing to do with me,” you said, sighing, which he echoed.

“Listen,” said Aizawa, running his hand back through his hair to sweep it out of his face, “if you genuinely require an explanation, you don’t deserve to be in school at U.A.”

You crossed your arms. “Try me, sensei.”

Aizawa winced, scrunching his eyes shut. “Don’t call me that. Listen. What I’m about to say does not apply only to me but to teachers in general. No one wants to fu—pursue a romantic relationship with a student because we are tired. Teaching is our job. No one wants to take work home when you don’t have to. You want to have a life outside teaching, and in addition to that, I have hero work.”

“There are lots of books and stuff about teacher-student relationships,” you said.

“Written by deranged maniacs who haven’t been teachers. Sometimes, it’s difficult to see your students as people, let alone the horrific romantic par—God.” Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose again, his fingers moving the press into his eyes, almost like he wanted to gouge them out. “The only reason a student may be brought up in conversation in a non-school setting would be if that student did something particularly moronic that day. At the end of the individual day, teachers are tired of their students and want to slip back into being an individual instead of an educator.”

You pursed your lips. “I have yet to hear that you personally are tired of specifically me.”

“Let me attempt another approach,” said Aizawa, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers together, “As your teacher, I would have an unfair power over you in a relationship.”

“Hell, yeah, you would,” you said, grinning.

Aizawa turned his head away, pressing his mouth into his shoulder. “I’m not going to engage with you if you keep making comments like that.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, aware you were getting yourself in deeper shit the more you opened your mouth. “I wouldn’t want you to propose in Recovery Girl’s office, anyway.”

It took him a moment, while you waited by scribbling a doodle of your cat onto the bottom margin of your form, but Aizawa genuinely let out a hiss as he snapped towards you, his teeth gritted as his eyes flashed scarlet, hair flying upwards in an instant.

“You can’t make those sorts of quips around anyone else—at all. Nothing is going to—” He seemed to notice that you’d shrunken in your seat, away from him, your hands held up while you let the clipboard fall to the ground, and he released his quirk, mildly startled that he’d activated it on impulse. He settled back into his own cold, plastic chair and sank his chin into his capture weapon.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quiet and subdued, “Joking about stuff is how I handle it.”

“No,” he said evenly, stooping to pick up your clipboard and pen, “I knew that already. That’s how you show you understand the material in class discussions. I should’ve taken that into account.”

He held out the clipboard, pinching it by the edge. You won’t touch each other, this way.

You took it and clicked your pen, scanning down the document to where you left off. “There’s this checkbox I wanted to ask you about.”

“What checkbox—oh,” Aizawa said, his voice faltering.

Near the bottom. A single, small line and box, for the weight it held: do you want this form to double as your marriage registration?

You crossed your legs to prop one ankle over your knee and tilted your clipboard away from his line of vision. You checked it before he even answered.

“Yeah,” you said, proceeding to shade in the entire box, “Do you—”

His scowl cut you off. “Leave that blank, too.”

“Of course,” you said, drawing a couple of hearts around the inked-in box before moving on.

You finished filling it out before he did, and when he set his pen aside, he pushed on his knees to stand with a soft grunt, taking your clipboard underneath his without caring to glance over it.

“All right. The rest of class has been joined the training session that All Might was monitoring for Class B, and given the circumstances—” His eyes fell to your stained fingers. “—you’ll have to make up your stealth presentation at a later date with a different faculty member. I’ll have someone else grade your work from now on, so you won’t have to worry about my grading you more harshly because of this.”

Aizawa waited for you to nod, and after, he took a step towards the door. He ducked his head for a moment before turning back to you, saying your name under his breath. “I’m serious when I say that you can neither tell anyone about our soulmate bond nor do anything about it.”

Swallowing, you slowly stood up from your seat. “I don’t know how well I can do that, Aizawa-sensei, but I can promise that I’ll do my best not to trouble you. I haven’t been troubling you for the past three years, have I?”

“Not exactly.” Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his shoulders tensing enough that his mouth disappeared underneath his capture weapon. “Why do you ask?”

Okay. You can do this. You’re fine. You’re normal about it. You held up your hands, as if gesturing that he should brace himself. “Because that’s, uh, how long I’ve—” Been in love with you—no! Stop that. “—had feelings for you.”

Grimacing, Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s done that more in the past hour than you’ve seen in the past semester. “Holy shit.”

“Please don’t—please don’t feel any fucking pressure whatsoever,” you said quickly, trying to backtrack, “I’ve been dealing with this by myself for so long that I’m good at it, so please don’t, uh. I mean, I—I live in my head; I live in my books and stories, so it’s fine and good and tolerable that I’ve never been in a relationship or kissed or anything; I’m used to it, so you don’t have to worry; I’ve been handling this by—”

Aizawa exhaled very carefully, his chest heaving in a controlled way as he dug his fist into his eye, rubbing it. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“Ah, ha. Ha,” you said, scratching the back of your neck, “Sorry if that’s too much information; that wasn’t the point—”

“You’re transferring to Class B,” said Aizawa, and he spun on his heel and sped out of Recovery Girl’s office.

Huffing, you seized the clipboards and ran after him. “Wait up,” you said, shoving the door to the stairs open after he nearly closed it on your face, “I was just trying to let you know I am open to a relationship if you want it, but I’m more than fine—” Liar, spat the voice in your head as you scrambled down the staircase after him, your footsteps reverberating against the grey-cinderblocked walls. “—if you don’t want anything to happen, but if you—”

Aizawa turned sharply to glare in your direction as you caught up to him, and when you skibbled to a stop on the same stair, he said under his breath, “Quiet.” His gaze followed how your hair fluttered with each of his harsh syllables, so he took another stair down to distance you. “Anyone on the stairs could hear you,” he said, resigned.

He crossed his arms, and you slanted the clipboards away from your chest for him to take them.

“You really didn’t know I’ve liked you?” you asked as he took them, “All this time?”

“It’s never crossed my mind,” he said, and he continued down the stairs at fast pace but one you could keep up with, “Like I said, students are a different category of person once you’re a teacher.”

Biting your lip, you followed closely enough to keep your voice down. “You never knew. That’s comforting,” you said, and after a few more stairs, you grinned. “Could that count as my stealth presentation?”

***

You would think that more was supposed to happen, now that you’re soulmates. More conversation, at least. Perhaps a conversation.

Instead, a lingering, bruising feeling branded your chest, as if you’d been kicked the night before, and often a stifling, smothering pressure weighed down on your shoulders until you could be in the same room as Aizawa again. Sometimes, it felt like steel marbles were playing pinball in your chest, the aches where they hit gnawing and settling into your bones.

(Your cat, your chocolate-point baby Dango, has been upset with the hours you’ve been sleeping away the pain instead of playing with her. Luckily, Kouda has been borrowing her some afternoons. You don’t know what he does with her, but you do appreciate very much being able to tell Dango, via Kouda, that you love her very much.

Kouda also has the advantage of being subtle when you lend him your cat, because cats aren’t allowed in the dorms. You’ve been secretly caring for Dango for over a year now, so it’s as if you, Kouda, and Shinsou, who brought Dango catnip treats, were partners in crime.)

In class, Aizawa interacted with you as little as possible, usually asking Present Mic to grade your assignments in his stead. He didn’t act any different towards you from the perspective of the rest of the class, you supposed, except you made fewer jokes and he fewer retorts. Instead, you kept your head down, reading or working on your Sakura Grove data for Midnight, and you were skimming by.

But sometimes you’d be doing Midnight’s paperwork after finishing an assignment early, hunched over your desk, when your skin prickles and the emptiness in your chest wavers for a moment, and you’d look towards Aizawa—either slumping over his desk with his chin on his palm or almost concealed inside his sleeping bag behind the podium—eyes half-lidded and boring into you.

When you look away, it’s as if he’s the one kicking you in the chest.

***

The Saturday after a particularly painful school day for you (aside from your fucking up in a combat exercise, Aizawa had been going down the line of those who’d participated to give individual feedback, and he skipped over you without hesitation), you’d planned to spend all day huddled underneath layers and layers of covers and throw blankets in bed as yet another snowstorm swept across Mustafu, but you jerked awake, completely fucking frigid, before the sun had truly risen. You blindly fumbled over the edge of the bed for any or all of your six billion blankets and felt none of them, and, making a miserable whimper as you cracked open an eye, you peered over the side of the bed.

No blankets on floor.

No…no little bedside rug.

Jesus, did you somehow kick your bed away from the wall during the night? Wait, where’s all the shit you have all over your walls this isn’t your room.

Something was pressed against your back.

Your life was over. You’re totally getting expelled from U.A. for sneaking into your teacher’s room. It’s got to be his—holding your breath, you slowly peeked over your shoulder before snapping back towards the bare wall. A flash of that yellow sleeping bag, even in bed—it’s Aizawa’s room, all right, and his back was pressed against yours, with only your sleepshirt and his sleeping bag keeping your skin from touching (unless he’s wearing a shirt, which, in that case, get sluttier, Aizawa).

In the case that somehow appearing in his bed overnight made him detest you, you elected to slither out of his living space without his ever knowing. You wouldn’t have any answers for him, even if he caught you, really, at least not this early in the morning.

In the vexingly slow process of getting out of bed without waking him up, you had the time to look around, not that there was that much to see; it was all greyish and sparse and didn’t really feel like a home at all or that he spent much time here, with the most significant pieces in his bedroom being the shoddily painted radiator (in heaven, everything is fine) and a desk with both a PC and a propped-up tablet on it, with some papers spread in front of them. But the layout of his flat appeared to mirror another part of the dormitory, so you bet the door to leave his area entirely was through the next room, and you’d be home-free.

What caught your attention, though, was a well-loved cat tower, with one of the dangling mice for the cat to bat at torn off the string and resting on the middle level. Aizawa must have a cat. Funny, since that’s illegal in the dorms. As you finally slinked off the bed entirely, you resolved to locate the cat to kiss its little forehead before slipping out of his room entirely. Cat detours are allowed.

Walking out of his bedroom, you first were hit by the pungent scent of brewing coffee and then by a cold wave of defeat. Across the kitchen counter, Aizawa’s back was towards you while he fossicked through different brands of sugar packets.

You could’ve punted that empty sleeping bag out the window.

You took one step towards the exit before he spoke, his voice gravelly from sleep: “Do you want to offer me an explanation before I write you up?”

Fucking stealth heroes. “I don’t have one,” you said, shoulders falling slack while trudging into his kitchenette—with an ulterior motive of seeing more of his place before being removed permanently. “I’m—I don’t know how I got here. You didn’t—?”

“Of course not,” said Aizawa, ripping open two differently branded packets and upturning them into his coffee. He turned to face you as he took the first sip, and you wished you could say that his eyes drank you in hungrily, or whatever, but you supposed that you have to get sluttier, too: you were just as completely and unalluringly covered as he was in his Purple Revolution sweatshirt and pants. “You don’t have any ideas from working at Sakura Grove?”

“Uh, no,” you said, “I’m not encouraged to talk to I—Tainted Love. It’s more like bringing her food and filling out paperwork for her craft requests. I am very much the middleman. I can—”

“Don’t.” Aizawa held out his free hand. “I’ll ask Nemuri.”

Nemuri. You’ve known, you supposed, that he was on a given-name basis with Midnight. You resolved to get him to call you by your first name, too. And then the thought came that you might be ruining something romantic between them? Based on every interaction you’ve had with either of them, you had no indication of romance, but Aizawa had said that teachers aim to have very private lives. Yikes. You elected to slough it off for now, because introducing feeling jealous of your mentor whom you admired very much would only complicate the situation more. You could linger on jealousy once you figured out what the hell was happening.

“Right,” you said, pulling at a hangnail, “What if this happens again?”

“We’ll put a stop to it. Simple as that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We’ll be able to prevent this once we have more information. Until then, just handle it maturely and without fuss.”

“And here I was hoping we could cuddle,” you said, heaving a huge, fake sigh as Aizawa narrowed his eyes, and you pushed yourself up to sit on the counter, swinging your legs. “This is the part where you offer me coffee.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“C’mon, Aizawa. Or I’ll spread that you have an illegal cat in the dorms.”

Aizawa hesitated just as he brought the lip of his mug to his mouth. “I don’t have a cat,” he said before taking another drink.

“Come off of it; I saw the cat tower.”

“I don’t have—”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when something prodded your thigh; a lanky, tuxedo-patterned cat had sneaked up to headbutt you before you could notice, and it climbed onto your lap to loaf. It’d be nice if your own cat were this friendly.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” grumbled Aizawa as he poured your coffee.

You flipped over the cat’s tag, the light catching on the rose-gold heart. “You named your cat Konpeito?”

“Eri named it.” Aizawa set the mug next to you instead of giving it to you directly—stubborn bastard, not wanting to touch you again. “Don’t make a scene when you return the mug.”

“You’re kicking me out before I even start drinking?” You tentatively gripped the handle and maneuvered the cat off your lap.

“You keep asking these questions that have obvious answers.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t make too much noise on the way out; Eri’s in the next dorm over, and I don’t want you to wake her.”

***

You woke up in Aizawa’s bed again less than a week later. You’d had a dream that you’d been freezing, and the reason had been, once again, you were, since apparently Aizawa depended on his sleeping bag instead of blankets. You allowed yourself a moment of savouring the sensation of his back against yours (for real, this time, since the sleeping bag was snoring) before slipping out.

The third time, you left him a note to tell him to get a damn blanket, or else you’ll bring one of your own to keep there.

You idly took notes in Present Mic’s class, words coming slowly on paper while he prattled on. How come it was always you who was showing up in his bed? How come you always went to Aizawa, and he never came to you?

Your eyes flicked up to what Present Mic was writing on the board in skewed, thin handwriting. Had Aizawa told him the specifics? Present Mic had to know something, since he was grading your work, but Mic was also Aizawa’s friend—a luxury you didn’t have in this soulmate situation. Midnight would also be a strategic person to tell, from Aizawa’s perspective, but she hadn’t given any hint she was aware.

You drew a heart in the margins, and then you gave it legs. You made it walk off the page and onto the desk, colouring it in by crosshatching. If only you could get up and leave. Class without Aizawa dragged nowadays; where did he spend his time during school on break? Probably huddled in his sleeping bag in a slant of sunlight like a damn cat, maybe out on the grounds where he couldn’t be found. Or maybe he fucked off to a gym closet where the mats were; they’d be cosier than sleeping directly on the floor. And you could cosy up next to him, pressed up against each other in that snug—

You slammed into a wall of solid muscle, papers flying and tea spilling over the tile to seep into the rug in the teachers’ lounge, and you sprawled on your knees in the midst of it in your haste to get the fuck off of Aizawa before he could say anything, hissing as you tentatively raised your hand from the wet, broken cup. Despite the slivers of pottery in your palm, you one-handedly fumbled for the papers that had been dropped—third year evals, now crimped and tinted a yellow-green.

Aizawa took the papers, tapped the bottom to align them, and gave them a firm shake to flick off excess tea, and when you started to sweep the broken cup into your hands, he stopped you.

“Go to the faculty bathroom,” he said, pointing to the connecting lavatory, “I’ll be there in a minute with a first-aid kit.”

You had a moment to yourself in the clean, warmly-lit bathroom, so you pushed yourself up on the green marble by the farthest sink and crossed your legs, ensuring your shoes didn’t dirty anything. The pain’s setting in, but you won’t cry, not in front of him, and you’re crying, but just a bit, right? Fuck.

At the sound of the door, you hastily wiped your nose with your sleeve and did your best to look stoic, like pottery in your hand happened every day. But your eyes were too watery to even see the tweezers as he dug them out of the kit.

Standing in front of the sink, Aizawa clicked the tweezers twice (carcinisation, baby!) and held out his other hand.

You looked at it. “What do you want me to do with that?”

He said your name through a sort of scoff, which would’ve been way hotter if it had been your given name and also in bed. “Just give me your hand.”

Tears ran down your face in an overflow. “You wanna touch me?” you asked, sniffing.

“Fucking hell,” Aizawa said under his breath, “At least I know you’re all right if you’re still joking.” He shifted his jaw, scanning your palm. “If you’d rather have it at an uncomfortable angle over the sink—”

“No! No, I wanna—I wanna touch you,” you said, and you lifted your shaky, injured hand for Aizawa to hold steady. The instant his fingers cradled the back of your hand, everything fell into place: touching him was like breathing in cool, crisp air on a clear night or the smoky kindling of a fire that never goes out, like feeling sunshine on bare shoulders on a spring day with freshly cut grass, like walking into your childhood home’s kitchen when someone’s baked chocolate-chip cookies, like breathing in, like breathing, and—

You lifted your hand just a hair from his hand.

You have a stopped-up nose.

You glanced at Aizawa, whose lips were parted, his chest visibly heaving underneath his baggy jumpsuit. “Did you…?”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “I need to get the pottery out of your hand as soon as possible.”

Bracing yourself, you rested your hand in his again, and that irresistible warmth swept over you again. He’s got to be feeling it, too, so why isn’t he reacting? You’re embarrassing yourself, so why can’t he?

“Were you trying to teleport to me earlier?” he asked (distracting you from the sensation of each shard being plucked from your skin), head bent over the sink and your hand.

“No, I never—I don’t intend anything. But now that we’ve seen it, we at least know it’s not a gradual thing. Instantaneous and painless. Well,” you said, nodding towards your hand.

“Nor, I see, is it limited to my bed,” he said, shifting over when you uncrossed your legs, “What were you doing before the jump?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I was in class.” You dangled your legs off the side to get closer to him (for medical purposes of course), and wow, Aizawa smelled incredible—probably; your stuffy nose wasn’t doing you any favours—what the hell kind of soap did he use?

“Were you thinking of anything in particular? The bond?”

That’s got to be pine, and there’s something earthy mixed in. You really needed to blow your nose (Can you even name earthy scents? [Dirt?] You’re not up-to-date with masculine scents; you’ll have to find his deodorant next time you wake up in his room). “I was—” You cut yourself off with a hiss as he pulled the largest shard out. “I’m fine. It’s not that bad, really. Keep going. I don’t really remember the specifics of what I was thinking about, but I—” You cut yourself off again, this time with heavy realisation. “Goddammit. I was feeling the acute loneliness hollow out my chest again, and I was wanting to—be near you. Which explains why I’ve been teleporting to you instead of you coming to me.”

“It explains nothing,” said Aizawa, and he set the tweezers next to the shards on the edge of the sink and flipped on the faucet, guiding your hand under the water and reaching for the gauze.

“Yes, it does,” you said, openly wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, because fuck it, this man didn’t care about you, so be gross around him. “If the teleporting is triggered by intense longing to be close to the other person, then it makes total sense that I’d be the only one teleporting, since I’m the only one who has feelings.”

“It explains nothing,” he said again, drying off your hand, “It’s only a possible contributing factor to the teleportation. Maybe it has to do with location, or timing, or action. It’s highly improbable that this physical action was caused by thought alone.” Aizawa ripped off a long strip of gauze and began to wrap it around your palm. “Don’t feel like this is a weakness on your part. I’ll probably teleport to you before the month is out.”

You let your fingers relax, your pinkie falling enough to graze his own hands as he bandaged yours. The more skin-to-skin contact you had, the more serene you felt—or maybe it was the injury adrenaline wearing off. Either way, you might fall asleep on the bathroom counter. “My bed isn’t big enough for two people.”

“That’s okay,” said Aizawa, and he slowed at the final wrap-around, holding it in place until he found the metal clips in the first aid box. “I’ve gotten very used to sleeping in odd places.”

When he stepped away to pack up the kit, you fucking whimpered on impulse at the loss of physical contact, and he froze, stuck in the motion of clicking the box shut.

“Sorry,” you said, sniffing.

His jaw tensing, Aizawa shook his head. “You should go to bed early tonight. Don’t overexert yourself.”

***

Yeah, except it’s Friday, and Jirou has been arranging this girls’ night for two weeks now.

Apparently, the karaoke bar you’re going to overheats really easily, since it’s in a refurbished building that used to be something-or-other; you’re not really listening to the explanation but were more concerned with having to wear summer clothes while it’s snowing out. The past two weeks have been strategic outfit layering plans from the lot of you, most of which have devolved into being silly and impractical (ranging from “I’ll just take off my skin and hang around in my bones when we get there” to “I will walk out of this dorm in a sleeping bag over my underwear” [the latter reminding you of Aizawa, in a pleasing, warm thought that you had to keep to yourself]).

Either way. Twisting over your shoulder, you strained to tuck in your bra so that it wouldn’t show from a mostly backless spaghetti-strap that you ended up borrowing from Uraraka, and once it was kind of hidden, you stuck your tongue into your cheek. It didn’t really sit right with you to be going out in this shit in this icy weather. You’d be a lot warmer and probably a lot more content if you peeled off these Best Jeanist jean shorts (from the Moulded to Your Ass line, unofficially titled) and crawled into your pyjamas and bed.

In the corner of your eye, your bed beckoned, with all of its blankets and stuffed animals (for when you just need to hold a little guy). What if you ditched the outing and—no. Stop that. You’ll be warm soon enough.

But with an abrupt lurch towards your bed, you found yourself spluttering into the scalding spray of a showerhead, water dribbling into your mouth between gasps and sloshing down your body. Blindly, you took a step backwards out of the cascade, but a flattened palm on the bare skin of your back stopped you before you could move farther.

“Don’t.”

The water still gushed and flowed over you, eyes scrunched tight and heart pounding. The hand on your back maximised the space between the two of you, but with the pathetic size of the shower stall, his body heat still seeped into your skin, complemented by rising steam. There’s a quiet grunt when he knocked against the frosted glass door; his shoulders must be wide enough for that to happen frequently (you swallow against a dry throat, because the man could hold all of you). If he wanted to, Aizawa, the way he has you now, could press his lips to the crown of your head, keeping his mouth there as his eyes flutter shut.

Instead, Aizawa was reaching up to tilt the showerhead away, giving you a good face-full of his bicep, and your eyes followed its movement (his jumpsuit did an excellent job of concealing a fucking powerfully built form), straining as he twisted the showerhead and relaxing as it fell back into place at his side—

“Eyes up,” said Aizawa, using his first two fingers to guide your chin back to face your front, where they lingered for a moment to tap against your jaw to ensure you’d stay there.

(With the shock of getting wet and the heat of his hand flat against your back [still there, still flooding you with an intoxicating headiness], you’d been entirely too overwhelmed to even consider catching a glimpse of his dick.)

“Aizawa-sensei—”

“Cut that out,” he said, huffing, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

For once, you’re out of the loop. But since you’re in his shower, you could take a moment to locate his soap to put a name to what he smells like and perhaps get a look at his cock along the way. Only his washcloth hung over the faucet in front of you, so you moved to turn slightly as you spoke, ducking your head to scan for shampoo bottles: “Earlier today you were saying it wasn’t my—”

Hissing, Aizawa slid two fingers through one of your belt loops and yanked, jerking you backwards into his hips for an instant before establishing that space between you again—pulling you by the belt loop blocked your view of his cock, and his hand on your back kept you from touching him in any meaningful way. But he was still as close as he could be without touching you otherwise, his breath as searing as the steam as he grumbled into your ear: “Bad girl.”

The water splashing at your feet wasn’t so hot anymore.

Aizawa tugged at your belt loop again (for a moment, when a swish of cool air washed down your ass, you worried that he’d look) and kept you in front of himself as he turned sideways to face the shower door, which he (fuck!) lifted his hand from your back to prod open.

Light flushed into the stall, and he scoffed. “I knew it,” Aizawa said, bitterness creeping into his voice, and he unlooped his finger from your belt loop to tap the fabric firmly, nudging you forward.

“Knew what?” you asked, spinning on your heel the moment you were out of the shower, water flying, and Aizawa ducked behind the frosted glass with a defeated expression. “Right,” you said, grabbing the thick towel on the toilet and tossing it to him.

“Check your fingertips.”

Tearing your gaze from his frosted-glass impression of wrapping the towel around his waist, you held up your hands. “They look fine. My bandages are soaked, though, so I’ll have to redo—oh, okay, fuck. My soulmark is gone.” You’re not going to cry in front of him, and definitely not twice in one day, because that’d be—

“Sensei,” you said, choking up and curling your shaky fingers into an even shakier fist, “Sensei, my soulmark is—I don’t want my soulmark to be gone, fucking, I—” On accident, you slammed your elbow into the glass door when you were trying to—please get closer (so goddammit, if your eyes water, it’s from hitting your funny bone). “I don’t want my soulmark to disappear; I adore you and want—”

“It hasn’t disappeared,” Aizawa said softly as he stepped out of the shower, gripping his towel in addition to the firm knot, and he pointed behind you towards the mirror.

While Aizawa eased down onto the closed toilet to towel-dry his hair, you took the four, wet steps to the sink and wiped off the clouded steam. No difference in your reflection.

When you shot a baffled look towards Aizawa, he gently raised his eyebrows and his finger to twirl it once. So, you turned around to look over your shoulder at your back, where his pink handprint put all body glitter to shame in how well it reflected the overhead light and in how quickly it was spreading (ink leaking outside of the handprint in watery bursts before slowing, never detracting from the shape of his hand, though the ink seemed to rise more than fall, especially near his middle and ring fingers between your shoulder blades).

He was holding up his newly pink palm, wiggling his fingers in your direction.

You returned to him (really to stand on the bathmat, since you’re drenching his floor) and raised your hand to touch him, first glancing at him for his approval. Aizawa looked at your hand and back at you, and after he wetted his lips, he nodded and got back to towel-drying his hair.

You hesitated. Is this really so nonchalant, so trivial to him? It’s everything to you.

You dropped your hand to your side, mouth twitching. “What shampoo do you fucking use.”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look at you.

“You smell fucking good all the time. What’s. What scent is your soap,” you were saying, in the same, flat tone you’d use to argue with your landlord about finally fixing your leaky roof after two years.

Aizawa squeezed water out of the last of his hair and spoke in that infuriatingly gravelly, just-woke-up voice of his. “It’s sandalwood.”

Sandalwood. That’s earthy, you guessed. “Then where’s the pine come from?”

“That would be the aftershave,” he said, folding the hair towel in half twice and setting it aside, “You were going to touch me, but now you’re upset. Care to explain?”

You plucked at your wet shirt before crossing your arms over it. “Does this matter to you? The soulmate thing.”

“You matter to me,” he said, standing with a quiet grunt, “Let’s get you reasonably dry before going back to your dorm.”

“Oh, shut up with that teacher bullshit,” you said, following him to a cabinet, “You care about me through the lens of a student, because everyone in this fucking dorm is your—fuck, I’m. You’re insufferable.”

“I can’t lend you clothes, but I should have enough large towels to keep you warm.” Aizawa reached for the top shelf, with beach towels. “However, I recommend against going out tonight with the rest of your friends.” He handed you a new-looking, blue-pineappled towel.

You angrily wrapped it around you, pissed that you instantly felt better. “Oh, is it because you’ve gotten me wet—” Aizawa draped another towel around your shoulders, tucking it in a little to secure it. “—and going out into this fucking ass iceberg weather would get me sick—” Another towel, this one with Present Mic’s radio show logo on it. “—and then I’d have to miss one of your precious days of class—”

“Is that what you want me to say?” He arranged two more towels around you at once, tying the outermost one in a knot. “Or are you waiting to hear that I want you to hide away while you bear my mark?” He tugged your drapery down a smidge so that you could use your arms a bit—at the least, use your key to your room. “When in reality,” he said, taking a step backward and appraising his handiwork, “I want you to be comfortable and content. And I don’t think you’d be either if you went out after this, even if you got ready again.”

Goddammit.

“And you’ve had a long day with strange revelations. You have a new injury. Going to bed for the night will facilitate healing. Your body will have more time to process the day.”

Groaning, you said, “Fuck you for being right.”

“Thanks.”

Since you hadn’t touched him earlier, you took the opportunity to clonk your forehead against his chest (dense muscle was evidently comfy). The soulmark warmth blossomed throughout your body from the spot, and you took your time to appreciate it, taking a couple of unhurried breaths against his skin, dry save for some stray running droplets.

Aizawa sighed, the planes of his chest rising and falling under your close and thirsty scrutiny. “This counts, y’know. As staying up late.” If you hadn’t seen him put his hand on your arm, you wouldn’t’ve known, due to the thickness of the towels. “I told you to go to bed.”

You blearily looked up at him. “Take me there, then.”

After a moment, Aizawa said, “I have to feed my cat,” and he opened the bathroom door to escape. Before he left, he spun back around, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile, if you hadn’t known how he felt about you.

“But first,” he said, “let me fix that forehead situation of yours.”

***

Picking up the folders from the office mailbox, you flipped out the flag for read/empty and trailed back to the office space that you and Midnight shared at Sakura Grove, idly waving to some co-workers as you flipped through the files. Pushing the door open with your foot, you dropped the folders onto Midnight’s desk and hurried over to lift the shaking electric kettle from the heat, since Midnight was too absorbed into her patient evaluation at which she was typing away.

You poured the boiling water the round teabag, watched it rise to the top of Midnight’s teacup, and bit back a cry—you clutched the chilled windowsill to stay standing, struck by an overwhelming dizziness that blacked out the edges of your vision and crept to darken it entirely; a bowling ball has just hit your chest and dropped to your toes, the ache reverberating through your veins as you caved and doubled over, nausea settling into your gut.

Through the dots clouding your vision, you barely make out Midnight stretching her arms over her head.

These attacks have been happening more and more. If Aizawa can have a friend in the know, so can you.

“Kayama-sensei,” you managed to croak, but she didn’t hear you.

You tried again, and she turned, her expression drooping when she saw you. “Is the tea that bad?”

Eventually, Midnight helped you into your seat across from hers with your own cup of tea, the pain draining away in the process of vague explanation.

“So, you genuinely think you’re starting to die because your soulmate won’t acknowledge you romantically. Easy solution in sight,” she said, picking her teacup up by her fingertips to breathe in the steam, “Just pick out some nice lingerie—you can use my sponsor discount for Wacoal—and arch your back when you lie in his bed for him to find. I can give you some tips on how to suck—”

“Kayama-sensei,” you said, your vision finally back to normal, “You do not understand how much I can’t do that.”

Her tongue flicked into her cup, testing the heat. “I’ll bite. Why not?”

“My soulmate is, um.” You frowned into your tea. “I’ve liked my soulmate for a long, long time. Before the soulmate stuff existed.”

Midnight ran her tongue over her lips, the corners quirking upwards. “So? All the more reason to make your feelings known and emphasised, now that you have an excuse for a legitimate relationship. Since he already knows about how you feel, you should keep trying to seduce him. All men crack eventually.”

“He won’t accept a lousy attempt at seduction, because—aside from I have no clue how to do that, I don’t—he’s, uh…” You trailed off, took a swig of tea instead of finishing, and ended up choking a bit at the heat.

“Yes? What’s the juicy detail you’re reluctant to share? Is he married? Is he a public figure? Is he too much older or younger than you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “Do you already know? Are you just making me say it?”

Tight-lipped, Midnight made a loose, dismissive gesture and moved to get back to her patient file.

“Fine. Fine! If anyone can help me with this, it’s you, because it’s—goddamn,” you said, deflating and sinking down into your seat, “It’s fucking Aizawa-sensei, okay? My soulmate is my stupid homeroom teacher.”

“Congratulations,” said Midnight, saving the document and shutting down the computer, “You have earned the right to call me by my given name for being so honest.” She spun in her chair to give you her full attention. “So. Shouta.”

“Did you know already? Were you just—”

“I had my suspicions but no concrete evidence,” she said, holding up her hand, “Just some observations from watching you for the past three years.” Tilting her head, she adjusted her glasses before lifting her cup to her mouth again. “Now, the reason why you can’t just seduce him is crystal clear now. I submit that you could start going to bed in skimpier clothes in the event you teleport to his apartment again, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Shouta’s got a steel will. He’s not going to violate that student-teacher professional relationship.”

“I know,” you said, slumping so far down in your seat that your ass was falling off of it, your chin touching your chest, “but if I’m in pain from not being with him, he probably is, too. And if he won’t acknowledge me romantically, I wanna know if there’s something I can do to alleviate the pain that we’re both feeling. He shouldn’t be distracted from his work because of it.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Midnight jabbed a finger in your direction. “Starting today, you’re promoted. You’re going to be Tainted Love’s primary monitor.”

“What?” You shot up in your seat. “But I haven’t—I haven’t even had a proper conversation with her before—”

“But she’s used to having you around,” Midnight said evenly, opening her top desk drawer, “To her, you’re in a position of authority but not a threat. You’ve seen how she likes to talk, anyway, and you’re in a perfect position to find out more schematics of how her quirk works on the individual level.” Midnight smiled and handed you Ito’s folder. “Plus, she can’t do anything more to you, right? You’ve already got a hell of a soulmate.”

“Okay,” you said, hesitantly taking her file to clutch it to your chest, “So, you just want me to talk to her? Try to solve my problems?”

“Yeah. And anything you find out about her quirk that she hasn’t shared so far—because she hasn’t exactly shared much past the first interrogation—is welcome intelligence. Record anything new. Keep Ito happy. You’ll be golden. I know you’re more than capable.”

“Funny,” you said, flipping through the file and joining Midnight as she stood, “This feels planned. Got anything else motivating you?”

“Besides a perverse desire to see my friend and my sidekick get together?” Midnight grabbed her whip from the hook on the side of her desk. “I was going to assign you this, anyway. Ito isn’t a threat anymore, and I need to focus on preparing for Serendipity’s arrival next week from St. Philomena’s. Even the airline we finally convinced to transport her has backed out, so I’m scrambling to bribe another.”

That had slipped your mind—Serendipity was being transferred to Sakura Grove for rehabilitation, mostly because no one else wanted to house the most potently dangerous female villain in the Americas. “Understandable,” you said, holding open the door for Midnight to follow closely behind, “When do I start?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, you were setting a tray with tea and powdered thumbprint-cookies in front of Ito at her desk in her room. She raised a sharp, white eyebrow at how the dishes clattered at your shaky handling, but she nodded in thanks and turned back to her book. You guessed you were lingering awkwardly by the door a bit too obviously, so she rolled her eyes and set her book upside-down on the desk.

“You’re my new handler, right?” she asked, scratching under her eye.

“That’s me,” you said, hands folded tightly in front of you, “Midnight says you cleared stage five, so you’re safe to be delegated off to me. I have your stage six schedule printed out—”

“But why are you still here? Everyone usually leaves as soon as possible.”

“I’m the only staff member immune to your quirk,” you said, sliding her schedule out of her file.

“Immune.” Ito grinned and crossed her legs. “That’s interesting. How do you know that?”

Well, Midnight said to be honest in order to get honesty from Ito. You sucked in through your teeth. “I’m only immune because you’ve already given me a soulmate. I was the, uh, student you landed on when you attacked U.A.”

Scrunching up her face, Ito scanned you from head to foot, and when she finally stopped at your chest, she nodded. “Ah. I remember you. You’ve got good tits, kiddo,” she said, reaching for her tea, “Be proud of ‘em. You allowed to tell me how it’s going?”

You glanced behind you at the door, pretending to be considering the trouble of talking to her, and when you prodded it shut with your foot, Ito’s grin stretched all the way across her face, her teeth cutting into her lower lip.

“I’ve been desperate to talk to you,” you said, dragging the extra chair closer to hers, “My soulmate is being a little bitch.”

“I like you better than Doc Kim already,” said Ito, and she took a noisy slurp of her tea. “Spill it.”

“I need your advice on what to do about the pain.”

“You found your soulmate already? Then you shouldn’t be feeling any,” she said, shrugging.

“No, I need you to tell me about what to do about the pain. I don’t know if he’s feeling it, but it’s fucking killing me, and he won’t do anything about the soulmate stuff because he doesn’t like me—”

“Back up.” Ito slammed her cup on the tray, spilling tea. “You’re not making any sense. Start over. Tell me about your soulmate.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, leaning back in your chair until your back popped. “He’s my professor, and I’ve liked him for years. Since I met him, pretty much.”

“Hot. He got a sensei kink?” She shoved two thumbprint cookies in her mouth at once, and she nudged the plate in your direction.

“Eh,” you said, weighing your options, “It’s possible. But he doesn’t—”

“Nice. So, he says he’s not gonna do anything while you’re his student, which means he’s burning with shame and sexy, sexy doubts about how good of a man he is. Always sexy to bring a man to his moral and literal knees. Are you wearing fun things to class?”

“We have a uniform.”

“Shame,” she said, gulping down more tea, and then she cocked her head. “Unless.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” said Ito, gesturing towards the cookies again. This time you took one, pinching it absentmindedly in your lap. “I think I want to go on my daily walk around the courtyard. Is there room for that in my new schedule?”

You checked it. “I’ll make it work.”

Minutes later, you and Ito were bundled up and strolling the perimeter of Sakura Grove’s courtyard, full of other in-patients in team recreation in the middle and in private conversation on some of the benches.

“I’m still not with you,” Ito was saying as she stared up into the bare limbs of a sakura tree, “I don’t understand why you’re feeling the soulmate pain. It shouldn’t be affecting you, since you know and have met your soulmate.”

You huffed, breath visible. “Well, if you don’t know, then I’m lost. But if he’s not going to complain about the pain, then I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it. I like him too much to bitch about it to him, I guess.”

Ito shoved more of her long, white hair underneath her pom-pom hat. “Then it’s probably the same for him, with him liking you too much to bother you about it.”

“Nah.” You stepped into one of her footprints, the snow crunching under your weight. “He doesn’t like me, and I don’t think he ever will, since once a student, always a stu—”

Ito’s head snapped towards you, cheeks rosy from the cold. “What did you say?”

“My soulmate doesn’t like me, because—”

“You said that earlier, too,” said Ito, and she looked around for other monitors before jerking her head for you to follow her. She guided you in a casual-but-not trail away from any doors or eavesdroppers, and she said in a hushed voice, “You do know that my quirk doesn’t assign soulmates randomly, right?”

“What the hell? Say more right now,” you said, taking smaller steps to stay closer to her.

“Oh, well, that’s news for me. I figured they’d captured my team’s notes on my quirk by now. Okay, well, report this, or not,” said Ito, jabbing a finger towards you, “How much do you know about probability? Yeah, yeah, more math—yes, soulmates usually to inhale the same cloud of my quirk to be considered soulmates, but there are other factors, too. See, you were making sense until you said your soulmate doesn’t like you back.”

“Okay, I’m not following—hey, let’s walk more towards the centre; I think those two by the door are watching us.” You steered the two of you back onto the typical path but stayed close to speak quietly.

“In addition to breathing from the same cloud, two people have to have had a moment of genuine, mutual attraction between each other. Not, like, you pass someone hot on the street and think you’d suck the soul out of their dick before dissuading yourself from the impulse, because they’d clearly ruin your life, but a moment of true, lingering affection for someone that you don’t talk yourself out of. A moment worth thinking about later. Hey, Rika,” Ito said loudly as you passed another patient on the path, “Good to see you today. How’s your cult? You don’t know? Great! Healthy! See you later!” Ito and you sped-walked past her, and once Rika was out of earshot, Ito lowered her voice again. “You don’t have to know the person, but maybe a stranger shared a moment of kindness with you. Maybe an old friend laughed in a new way. It’s a moment where you’re attracted to something past the surface level in a person, even for a brief second. I don’t give out soulmates with absolutely no attraction, even if it may seem that way.”

You, fuming, kicked snow out of your path. “That bitch likes me!”

Ito nodded. “And not just for your tits.”

“Shit,” you said, pushing hair out of your face and pulling your scarf to be snugger, “Nothing I do is gonna—”

“I can help,” said Ito, glancing over her shoulders again for eavesdroppers.

You stopped in your tracks. “But why would you do that? I’m just some weirdo.”

“Because when I have employed the help I’m about to offer you, it has been very, very funny to me,” she said, “and I don’t get outside news except through fucking letters.”

You joined her on the path again. “How many times have you done this?”

Ito looked up as she bit the pad of her thumb, trudging through the snow. “You’ll be the twelfth time. It’s like a part two to my quirk, but I usually don’t come across victims again to offer this sort of thing—and people usually don’t need it. Step one: we’ll need an airtight container.”

***

Cut to that evening in your dorm room, with you hunched over a ziploc bag sealed to the brim with her quirk’s pink dust.

Door locked. Lights down. Cosy pyjamas. Already under the covers in bed.

An increased probability of cliches, Ito had said.

You flipped on the flashlight on your phone to shine through the dust, pink light scattering on the ceiling like a home-planetarium.

Inhaling her quirk for the second time would still affect you, but it wouldn’t assign you another soulmate. Rather, it would dramatically increase your chances for romance tropes to occur in your real life. Stuff that only happens in rom-coms and fanfic could start to happen to you and your soulmate.

(“Like sharing a bed when there’s only one of them,” Ito had said, swirling her finger through the leftover powdered sugar and licking it.

“We’ve already got that covered with the teleporting,” you’d said.

“Shifting is what I’ve been calling the teleports, babe.” Ito had smacked her lips. “And maybe you’ll wake up grinding on his hard-on, now. Do you know how big his dick is?” she’d asked, and then she’d clicked her tongue. “Never mind; I wanna know about his thighs.”

“I can—”

“Or maybe he’ll spill coffee on your shirt and have to pat you dry, accidentally making your shirt see-through and getting flustered at your tits. Or maybe he’ll have to pick you up in the rain, and oh, no, the weather’s too bad for you to go home, and you have to wear his clothes, and—”

You’d snorted at the thought of wearing one of his jumpsuits. He didn’t seem to have much else.)

Either way, you had your ziploc bag of soulmate trope dust, and you had a soulmate reluctant to acknowledge you—even though you knew now that he liked you, that bitch. You’d prepared accordingly, already in bed, since Ito had said you’d likely pass out again. It sat a bit unpleasantly in your stomach that you were going to rely on cliches to jumpstart your relationship with Aizawa, since you hadn’t wanted to do that in the first place with teacher-student relationship cliches. But you could avoid that the best you could, you supposed.

You lay down in bed, adjusting your hair on your pillow, and with the bag on your chest, you popped it like bubble wrap, the dust surging into your face in a rosy burst.

***

Popping it Tuesday night led to a cruelly dull Wednesday, since, as seniors, Wednesdays were off-days for the hero course to spend more time in the field. You weren’t needed at Sakura Grove, as you remotely typed up your reports and sent them their way, and since all your friends were with their mentors, the hours crawled. You puttered around online for a while, before cracking open a book whose plot couldn’t hold you. Since no one was around to witness, you plodded downstairs to the kitchen in your pyjamas, stole one of Aoyama’s green tea popsicles for an early start to lunch, and booted up the console Kaminari kept in the commons.

While the screen loaded, you plopped onto the couch, licking the last of the tea off the wooden stick. What does Aizawa do on Wednesdays now that his class is loose? He frequents a cat café; the punch-card was poking out of his wallet on his bedside table last time you shifted to his room. But there are the mundanities—grocery shopping, catching up on sleep, grading, caring for Eri. And hell, how you’d like to share those moments with him—perhaps scrunching his nose at a change of ingredients of his favourite chip, stroking the neck of his cat in a beam of sunlight, braiding Eri’s hair with ribbon at the start of a school day.

Fuuuuuck, when will Aizawa let you in?

The next moment, you’re suffocating. Pitch black softness, swaddling and falling around you, sweltering within seconds, sweat beading at your hairline. You took a desperate, gasping breath—relieved in the slim moment a slant of light puckered in front you, until the hand shoved onto your face, palm feeling for your mouth and shutting your jaw for you. Within the cocoon, the frame on either side of you tensed, and—the hand fumbled, once you’d quieted, in the crack of light to clumsily cup your cheek, patting it abruptly before rubbing the thumb over your cheekbone.

From that touch and the peace it swept over you, you knew where you’d shifted: kneeling right between Aizawa’s legs in his sleeping bag. But he’s sitting upright in a chair and needed to silence you, so where was he right now?

You settled, leaning against the hard muscle of his calf and into his palm, nosing at it to signal you knew it’s him.

“You have twenty-seven minutes to finish your tests,” called Aizawa, and for the first time, you picked up on pens clicking, paper shuffling, and chairs scuffing against polished tile. “Don’t ask me when they’ll be graded; Kuranosuke-sensei isn’t set to return until Saturday.”

Bless him.

But okay. You’ve got about half an hour stuck between his legs under this desk in front of what’s likely a bunch of younger business students.

Huh, if you only inched your chin forward on his chair, you’d be perfectly positioned to nuzzle against his cock, maybe suck it if you maneuvered your arms out of the sleeping bag’s constrictions. But, you supposed, it would be very mean to tease him in that way in front of students who haven’t built that respect for him, and you’d prefer your first blowjob to be where Aizawa could throw his head back, face flushed, groaning loudly with a gentle, guiding hand on the back of your head—hey, now’s not the time.

You didn’t want him to feel the shame of having an erection in front of who were essentially strangers. It’d…you don’t want to humiliate your soulmate. You love that idiot.

But Aizawa was shifting his hips, to your horror, the thick fabric of his jumpsuit brushing your face in the moment his hand retracted, and the sleeping bag was shuffled down past the top of your head, which grazed the underside of a desk drawer.

You rested your chin towards the edge of his chair—yes, mere inches between your face and his clothed cock, but your breath probably wasn’t even hitting it. From this angle, you and Aizawa could share that suspicious glare he shot you, so you backed up the half-inch for your chin to rest of the very brink of the chair—he closed his eyes, his shoulders losing their stiffness—and you leant your head against his thigh, just on the inside of his knee. He heaved a silent sigh, giving a subtle roll of his eyes, and minutely nodded—an act so slight that if you hadn’t been looking for it, you would’ve missed it.

Aizawa’s hand came to rest atop your head, scratching his fingers gently against your scalp. Part of it’s the soulmate bond; part of it’s being touch-starved, but his gentle scratch was so fucking soothing that a hazy, relaxed sleepiness came over you. Your head sagged, nose pressing towards the underside of his thigh, while your eyes crossed. Maybe it’s the magic of his sleeping bag, but you’re so drowsy that the scratch of his short nails almost drowned out clicking footsteps approach the desk.

Aizawa froze, his hand stilling in your hair.

“What are we supposed to do with our tests?” came the whisper of a business student.

Aizawa made a grunt and moved as if he were stretching and reaching for something on the desk. “Whatever you normally do. Is there not a routine?”

“The basket we turn papers in to is missing.” The shadow of the student’s feet grew closer to the desk.

“Not my problem. Just leave them on the corner of the desk—” A tinny clink echoed through the teacher desk when Aizawa tapped it—his thumb swiping over your forehead to calm you.

“Gotcha,” said the business student, and you thought you were in the clear before she asked, “What—what are you doing under…?”

“Oh?” Aizawa jolted the chair forward to hide you, but with the jolt came his clothed cock pressed against your face; even through the thick fabric you could tell it’s his shaft pressed against the length of your nose and corner of mouth and balls nestled against your chin and cheek. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to text under my desk, the same as all of you do when you think I can’t see.” A metallic-sounding object scraped across the desktop, followed by an impulsively-large-sounding gulp.

“Your phone’s on your desk, sir,” said the business student.

His fingers now curled into your hair in a vain attempt to pull you away from his cock, but he couldn’t, with the scant room under the desk and bulk of his sleeping bag. Trying to be polite, you opted to avert your gaze from his crotch (even though it was right there), which shuddered so hard that you saw and felt it.

“It’s a common practise for pro-heroes to have secondary phones purely for work,” said Aizawa, taking another loud swallow of his drink. “You may want to invest in one.”

“Gotcha,” said the business student again, just as another shadow joined her at the desk and whispered for her to hurry up.

When they both retreated, Aizawa stealthily scooted back to gain some space in a move that looked like he was simply leaning back in his chair to drain the tea out of his cup—and you savoured the unshielded view of the tender skin of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed—and hey, that’s—Aizawa relaxed enough to glance down at you, elbow on the arm of the chair, holding in the air the teacup you gifted him to replace the one you broke (nowhere nearly as nice as the pottery one you smashed presumably was, but its deep crimson glaze had reminded you of his quirk-activated eyes).

You were strangely moved that he was using your gift so quickly after he received it, in public, and not where you were supposed to see it being used.

Your eyes darted between the cup and his eyes until he noticed, and he raised the teacup just a hair in a toast. Nodding with a tired smile, you wormed your arm around to unwind his hand from its grip in your hair, unintentionally still tight, and held his gaze as you kissed the pad of each finger, starting with his little finger, the pink flashing from each tip until you pressed your lips against his thumb.

Aizawa never looked away, but he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. You wondered for a moment if he liked the thumbprint bisecting the centre of your lips, the rounded edge aligning with the dip in your cupid’s bow. But his expression betrayed nothing, and instead, he raised the teacup to his own mouth, his hand returning to your hair for the rest of the period.

After the last student had petered out of the classroom and Aizawa had given an uncharacteristic little wave as the last one close the door behind her, Aizawa held out a groan as he kicked away from the desk, his hands flying to adjust his lower jumpsuit and then raking his fingers back through his own hair.

“How are you holding up?”

You balked. “How am I?” You shoved at his knees so that you had room to stand, and you sat on the desk.

Aizawa pointedly nudged your legs together (you hadn’t even thought of it that way). “Nice pyjamas.”

“You’re lucky I don’t sleep naked,” you said, plucking at your shirt.

“Am I?”

Was that…was he flirting?

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he continued. “You shouldn’t walk back to the dorms like that. I don’t have anything at the school besides a spare jumpsuit, but Hizashi should have his jacket draped on his chair in the faculty lounge.”

“How romantic,” you said, flicking the side of his teacup for the hell of it.

“I don’t have another class to sub until the period after this one,” he said, pocketing his phone and other personals on the desk before handing the teacup to you, “Let’s go.”

Present Mic was gloriously absent from the faculty lounge, so there was no one to stop Aizawa from laying his stuff on his desk and swiping the jacket off the back of Mic’s chair. You set the teacup on the cat coaster and had just barely turned his way before he was sweeping the open jacket around your shoulders. Aizawa lifted the leather while you slipped your arms inside, and he zipped you up, stopping the zipper just above the curve of your boobs. You looked down, and he flicked the zipper up at you with a smirk.

“Are we married yet?”

His hand dropped from your zipper. “I saw what you did with the registration form. You’re not funny.”

“I happen to be hilarious,” you said, “I assume to want to adjust the mark?”

Nodding, Aizawa waited for you to tilt your head up and to the side. “I am not marrying you. You’re my student.” He grazed the usual spot behind your ear with his ring finger.

“And someday I won’t be.” You shivered as the frisson of his touch rolled through you. “You’d rather have even more paperwork, bureaucratical hoops, and possibly a ceremony at a later, inevitable date than one simple checkmark on a sheet? Not very logical, sensei.”

He frowned. “Stop that.”

A beat. “No otherwise rebuttal?” you asked, grinning, “You agree, then, that we’re going to end up together? That we’ll be—”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Funny,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, eyeing Snipe in the far corner of the room, “Then, hey. Compromise. What if we just hang out with no romantic or sexual connotations whatsoever? I wanna get to know you better. You’re cool.”

Aizawa crossed his arms and followed your gaze to Snipe, who was bent over in his seat, cleaning one of his guns. “Think about it. Would you trust a teacher who spends time outside of school with a student?”

“How’s the training with Shinsou going?”

“You are not funny.”

“And everybody knows you’re training Shinsou, and they’re fine with it. You could say you’re training me,” you said, stepping closer to him, looking him in the eyes despise his hunkering down into his scarf, “Please say you’re training me. I want to spend time with you. Hell, actually train me. You could make me strong enough that you don’t have to worry about me, or any bullshit. C’mon, Aizawa. Please.”

“That,” he said, “I can easily deny you. Now, get back to the dorms. I’d like to—”

“What? Why,” you said with a whine, “How can you say that so quickly? You didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah?” Aizawa turned to his desk to boot up the computer. “It’s because you’re already strong enough to take care of yourself. I don’t have to worry about you in a fight,” he said, just barely crinkling his eyes, so you figured that he’s smiling beneath his capture weapon, “Keeping you from being a fool—now, that’s something I’ll have to watch for.”

You groaned. Loudly. And for way too long. “Whatever. May I sit on your lap while you grade?”

“No,” said Aizawa, not missing a beat, “Go back to the dorm.”

“You want me to check on Eri?”

“Sure. That’d be—really nice. Let me know—”

“Yeah?” Grinning, you bounced on the balls of your feet. “How am I supposed to do that? Sounds like I might need a certain phone number.”

Aizawa collapsed in his cracked, leather lounge chair and spun it towards his cubicle desk. “No need. If you don’t shift to me in the next half hour, I’ll assume everything’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. I feel like I deserve some sort of treat for not mentioning your half-chub while it was in my face earlier.”

Aizawa rubbed at his temple, his eyes strained. “I’m busy grading and don’t have time to talk.”

He was staring into a blank screen.

“Fine, you big baby. I’ll concede to you this time,” you said, and before you could lose your nerve, you leant over to kiss the top of his head.

You’d bolted for the door before he could even turn around.

***

It was supposed to be a routine field exercise.

The hero course had been split into teams, each under the leadership of a faculty member, for a field assessment as twenty percent of your grade for your final semester. As an extension of the personal study starting with the student presentations from earlier, you were in the group focusing on stealth headed by Aizawa, along with Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki (who swopped into your group last minute, since Midnight declared that he needed to get away from her group working on public relations). Bummed that no other girls were in the group, you resolved to make it work by being better than the boys. Not to mention that the three included would, hopefully, be dense enough to miss the subtler interactions between Aizawa and you that betrayed something else going on.

The four of you were to know as little as possible about the assignment as possible before going in, so you all spent the week leading up to it making contingency plans (you’d been told not to go out otherwise that week, so Midnight had to do her own work, for once, at Sakura Grove), with maps of the city and subway splayed out on the floor in the common room, along with bowls of trail mix Bakugou had thrown together, claiming that Aoyama’s stuff was bullshit (though you had enjoyed it very much when you ate it in secret that morning). All you’d been told was that you’d be making an escort in secret, without the target even knowing you were there.

No contingency plan could account for this.

A thunderstorm popped up on the radar out of nowhere, delaying the plane’s arrival, and the airport radio signal had been scrambled, fed into a different language, and back again. If you’d been allowed more details during preparation, you’d have more of the story, but all you could piece together now was excruciatingly obvious: the airport’s east wing exploded and caved before the plane even hit it, and now you were trapped underground under wet, crumbly tonnes of rubble, confined to a pocket of space barely tall enough to stand in, with the only structure keeping half of an airport bathroom’s mirrored wall from collapsing and crushing you being the charred, lower third of a column from the airport courtyard.

“You can’t blow our way out,” you hissed at Bakugou, who was climbing his way up the column to prod at the ceiling, “The column’s load-bearing.”

“I know that,” Bakugou said, contorting his upper body and neck as he gawped with his mouth open at the debris above him, “I’m just seein’ if there’s any light from the surface comin’ through, or if there’s anywhere rainwater’s drippin’ in.”

Hunching with his upper back grazing the rubble ceiling at the tallest point in the collapsed space, Aizawa frantically fussed with his work phone (which he genuinely had, after all) and his radio, unable to get a signal. “Be careful with your movements,” he said, mind barely in the conversation, “You could make the debris slip, or it could get weighed down with rain and further collapse. At worst, you want it to settle. Aoyama, are you getting anything?”

Tapping the AI filter on his sparkle shades away, Aoyama tore his gaze away from his handheld device’s screen. “Alas,” he said with a quivering frown. His ankle was being wrapped by Todoroki, who had been careful to refill the place in the concrete where Aoyama’s foot had been with ice, keeping the space intact.

“It’s fine; you’re doing well. Keep an eye on the signal. We want to know if we get one.” Aizawa handed his phone to you, giving you a short nod and the same job. “Todoroki, keep that cavity frozen. Keep an eye out for similar spot about to collapse and do the same.”

“I’m assuming this isn’t part of the assignment, since you’re taking charge,” you said under your breath to Aizawa, your back to the others as you stooped to stand yourself, arms crossed, “What relevant information can you share about the assignment that might get us out of here? Who were we escorting? If we know who they have for allies, then we can start to understand how the signals are scrambled and how to walk out of this situation.”

Aizawa stuck his tongue in his cheek. “None of it’s relevant. Our target has been isolated for well over four years and was being processed by professionals. She wouldn’t have had any opportunity to sabotage this procedure; St. Philomena’s has kept our target from having untracked outside communication.”

An uneasy stone dropped into the pit of your stomach. “St. Philomena’s,” you said slowly, biting your lip, “That’s a women’s penitentiary.”

Aizawa opened his mouth to answer but instead inhaled a mouthful of dust as the earth shook and clattered around you. Bakugou braced the column while you and Aizawa kept the bathroom wall steady, but the mirror shattered and fell with the wall, with Todoroki grabbing you out of the way of the sink from crushing your legs, icing the concrete shards into a makeshift support for the column, enough for Bakugou to twist out from underneath it. You gasped in deep breaths of powdery concrete yet dug into wet clods of silt and grime with the heels of your boots.

The ceiling had caved in by about two feet in height, and if Aoyama hadn’t skibbled away from his spot in the corner, he’d be buried under glass and tile. You experimentally knelt and stretched towards the ceiling—good for you, for having some room to move upwards, but Aizawa could only sit, now. Every heaving breath from your friends was too close for your liking, and the stone fell from your stomach right into your gut when you noticed the steady trickle of water between the rocks and down the column, cutting a clear, ivory path through the grey dust coating it. Bakugou scooted out of the ways of its dripping, letting it instead drain in a puddle next to him.

You and Bakugou nearly jumped out of your skins at the skrrrt of Aizawa’s radio, but nothing came through except static.

“We’re okay,” said Aizawa, once Aoyama started to show signs of hyperventilation, “The static is a good sign. Even if we can’t communicate specifics, they have a location on us. They know we’re down here, and if it seems like they’re taking too long, remember that civilians are the priority. We’ll be all right.”

Claustrophobia.

Not your favourite.

But Aoyama was clearly having a worse time handling it, so it’s better to set an example for him—see how calm you are? See how much you’re not being selfish, curling into Aizawa’s arms for him to pet your hair until it’s over, keeping him all to yourself, even though it’d be really easy to pretend like it’s the size of the cavern instead of your own selfish desires that’s making you touch him. See how mature you’re being, not even touching Aizawa, even though he’s right next to you. You’re being rational about the whole thing.

Todoroki stared off, his bright eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, and he parted his lips, wetting them slightly before speaking. “You should move closer to Aoyama,” he said to Bakugou, “Someone’s hurt.”

“The hell d’you mean?” When Todoroki gestured, Bakugou followed his gaze.

The water’s white path through the dust congealed and blushed deep vermillion as it coursed down the column, falling in thick, steady plops next to Bakugou, the upsplash ticking his exposed skin with red.

“Holy shit.” Bakugou scrambled away the best he could, kicking away from the water and practically into your lap, but he shot you a sort-of apologetic look and shuffled into more of Todoroki’s personal space. “Do you think—it’s not blood,” he said, smearing it on his arm, still running a dark red even spread thinly.

Aoyama cringed. “It’s not going to—it won’t fill up the—”

“No,” Bakugou said quickly, “It’s drainin’ through the cracks. We’re fine, Aoyama.” Bakugou made a point of dragging his hard glare from Todoroki to you, as if to say that keeping Aoyama calm was essential to getting out.

You checked Aizawa’s phone again for any signal, and, sighing, you stowed it to keep from scratching the screen.

“Nothing?”

Shaking your head at Aizawa, you resisted the heavy urge to rest your forehead on his shoulder. You know what? Maybe you could. He’s right there, and if you did it in this situation, it could be read as a simply act of comfort that you could have easily shared with anyone, perhaps. The two of you could stare romantically into the dripping, red goop, talk about your lives together, about teaching your psychotic friends, about sidekicking at Sakura Grove—

“Hey, don’t touch that,” you said, jolting in your seat, to Todoroki, who stopped, wide-eyed, in his odd stretch over Bakugou’s lap before he could prod with his outstretched finger the congealed mass accumulating in the puddle, “I think I know what that is.”

Beside you, Aizawa sucked in through his teeth. “Just once, I wish your deduction skills weren’t so good.”

Without averting your gaze, you moved to elbow him in the chest, hard, but he caught your arm and held it deathly still: he only touched you by your sleeve, though, so no soulmark would bleed through. Odds were that the mark was still furtively hidden behind your ear. Frowning, you tried to wrest your arm away from him, eyes on the falling droplet heavy enough to break the surface tension of the gathered, congealed mass, making the whole thing burst upwards in a dense, ruby smoke.

“Get down, as close to the ground as you can,” you said in a rush, cut off when Aizawa shoved your head to the ground with his hand on the back of your neck, his face inches from yours and only moving closer as he made room for the others to join you, cheek smushed against a patch of intact bathroom tile.

“It’s aerosolising,” said Aizawa, eyes darting over the ceiling, where the mist was rising through cracks in the rubble, “Follow where it’s escaping; we might be able to use—”

“No, you fucker,” you hissed (Aizawa squeezed the back of your neck), “Not all of it’s going to escape. It’s going to condense into liquid again on any surface that blocks it and then drop back on us.”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on,” spat Bakugou, voice muffled from behind you but strangely reverberating back through the curved metal of Aoyama’s armour.

“We’re only going to be safe on the ground if it doesn’t condense, which is un-fucking-likely the way the thunderstorm’s moistened and lowered atmospheric pressure,” you said, the sound of water rinsing through crannies in the rocks growing from the far side of the cavern, “Aoyama, try to breath evenly but shallowly; you don’t wanna inhale this.”

The knuckles of Bakugou’s heavy glove struck the centre of your upper back. “Dumbass. Just tell him to hyperventilate, why don’t you?”

A drop of red water fell onto Todoroki’s pale cheek, sizzling with the impact as it was absorbed into his skin, a miniature puff of smoke emitting from the spot.

After a moment of heavy silence, Aizawa shifted his jaw, his eyes dark as they focused on you. “Academic protocols are over. Time to share what you know about Serendipity’s quirk.”

You dropped your jaw, even with the grit digging into your skin and jaw. “Who’s the insane person who assigned a bunch of students to escort fucking Serendipity—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, grip on your neck tightening and eyes flaring scarlet so briefly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been inches away, “Considering your high level of academic success, I thought you capable enough to complete a more difficult mission than your—”

“Someone just fuckin’ say what her quirk does!” Bakugou’s hand curled into a fist with the fabric of your hero costume taut between its fingers, his fist lay, overheated, between your shoulder blades.

You jerked your shoulder away from him, but there wasn’t any room to go, so his hand stayed on your back, putting distance between the two of you, though his knees and hips still touched the back of yours. “Okay,” you said after settling, glaring directly into Aizawa’s eyes, “Serendipity is the third most dangerous villain in the western hemisphere, evidently being transferred today to the place Midnight and I work, because fucking no one else wants to handle her. C’mon, Aizawa, is that why I wasn’t allowed at work for the past week? So I wouldn’t know? Fucking—” You tried to give a half-hearted kick to Aizawa, but his thumb curled enough around your neck to locate your pulse point, which he pressed down on in warning. “But yeah, her quirk is so volatile and dangerous because—because yes, it’s a sex pollen quirk, but it’s fast, and you can’t solve it by touching yourself, like other sex quirks we’ve seen used for villainy; you have to orgasm at someone else’s hands. And no one can figure out why your internal organs shrivel and die within four hours—”

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as two droplets sizzled into your skin in quick succession, but the squeeze on your neck told you to continue. “Or the brain damage, or—because her quirk’s been studied, but no one can tell if it requires the feed of dopamine to the body, or not getting enough oxygenated blood cells, or capillary damage, or—” Bakugou thumped your back again. “—but no one is immune to it, and it’s fucking terrifying,” you finished, scrunching your eyes shut at the sensation of more droplets searing into your skin and into those around you, each person inhaling more with each individual puff of smoke from the viscous drops.

Tongue too big for your mouth, you trailed off, eyesight blurring as you zoned out for a just a bit, but you lurched back into reality when a hot ache stung the back of your neck and swept through your body. Aizawa retracted his hand faster than a viper striking, his eyes briefly holding the same dread yours did.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up to sit, and to your horror, an enormous gush of arousal pooled between your legs—you snapped your legs shut at the sight of the wet spot on your hero costume (and worse, the dribbling into the gravel), and Aizawa saw, holding a steady, neutral expression despite your visible panic.

“Fuck, baby—”

It hadn’t come from Aizawa but Bakugou, whose hips you’d inadvertently ground against when you sat up. His large hand came to grip your waist, fingers digging in and pulling your ass back against him, and his other hand clamped over his nose and mouth as he pushed himself up. “I’ve always known you smelled good, but this is somethin’ else—”

“Absolutely not.” Aizawa yoinked you away from Bakugou and put himself between the you and the rest, cramping you into the corner with pointed rocks digging into your back, and he held up his hand, Bakugou glaring a hole into his palm, vermillion streaking down his face. “You’re drugged. She’s drugged. Even if you both say you want it, it’s not a reflection of reality.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but Todoroki tilted to the side to keep his tense gaze on you.

“No,” said Aizawa, using the scant room and the end of his capture weapon to snap in Todoroki’s face, “You’d be ruining the professional relationship you have. You’d be violating her. There’s no way she’d actually want you.”

Bakugou scoffed over Todoroki’s quiet how do you know that, already palming himself through his costume. “I’d rather risk it all blasting out of here than suck Icy-Hot’s dick.” His other hand crackled with the beginnings of an explosion.

“You can’t,” you said with effort, mouth and throat coated with dust as heat rose to your skin, sweat breaking out at your hairline, “If you’re not a heteromorph, Serendipity’s quirk suppresses yours. It—it overwhelms your entire system—”

“You couldn’t mention that before I got hard?” Bakugou scowled, thumb playing with his belt buckle in consideration. “I would’ve blasted us out of here earlier.”

Aizawa shook his head. “It wouldn’t’ve worked—”

Todoroki made a sort of horting noise in the back of his throat, drawing everyone’s attention, before hacking a thick glob of red mucus right onto a spot of white bathroom tile, large trails of saliva trailing from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” you said softly, your eyebrows shooting up, and Aizawa held you back before you could even move.

“Mon Dieu,” said Aoyama, and he removed his sparkle shades to see it without a red filter.

Aizawa’s radio crackled static again, but nobody moved a muscle.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Aizawa, his hand still up but hardly deterring an increasingly twitchy Bakugou, who kept staring at you over Aizawa’s shoulder, “Aoyama, you’re probably going to hurt yourself and others if you stay in your armour. If you think you can handle being more vulnerable, take it off. Prop it up between the three of you and us.” The radio hissed again. “We’re going to camp out here until help arrives. Waiting is the heroic path to take sometimes,” he said in Bakugou’s direction, “If you find yourself succumbing to the quirk, that’s okay. It’s not shameful. No one is immune to it. If you can work it out among yourselves, that’s fine. No one here is going to share any details you don’t want out.” But here his voice darkened, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew Aizawa was shooting a hard, unmerciful look towards them. “But you’re not going to hurt anyone here, and you’re especially not going to take advantage of her because she’s the only woman. To get her, you’ll have to go through me, and I do not intend to be kind.”

“Fucking hell,” said Bakugou, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off.

You were feeling a similar way, but Aizawa had you so backed into the corner that there wasn’t room to take anything off. So, instead of tearing off the increasingly abrasive and scratchy fabric of your hero uniform, you hugged your knees to your chest, thighs clenching, and bit down on your arm to keep from crying out. A choked sound still escaped you as a leather strap on your upper thigh rubbed closer to a more sensitive spot.

You couldn’t even lift a hand to fan your face—but with how heavy your limbs felt, even the promise of cool air couldn’t bring you to attempt it, and instead, you tried to find relief in the cold press of busted bathroom tile at the back of your neck—and you turned your head to feel it against your cheek, too.

Your hips rocked, knocking your legs against Aizawa’s back, and when he turned over his shoulder to spare you a glance, you jolted as far back as you could away from him. Not that you could go anyway but barely half an inch backwards. “Sorry,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “Didn’t mean to. Really. I—” Your heart flipped at his concerned face (himself looking a little red), and a sharp cramp curdled into your lower stomach. “Oh, fuck,” you said, a hand shooting to your stomach and doubling over—but your forehead grazed him before you could, and you let out a quiet yelp before jerking back into place, tears welling at the pain. “Sorry about that.”

Aizawa grimaced at your weak smile and turned back towards the others. You hadn’t even heard what they’re doing, since the blood pumping in your ears apparently deafened you to anything besides your own half-smothered sobs into your arm.

They were growing louder at their frustration, but they were, for the most part, not directing any of it at you. Hey, is—? Over Aoyama’s armour-wall, it looked like Bakugou might have gotten his cock out to start stroking it; maybe you could get a better look—

“Hey,” said Aizawa, blocking your view when he turned over his shoulder, “Stop all that squirming.” Were you? You hadn’t even noticed. “Remember what I’ve taught you. I know you can do better.”

“Oh, don’t say professor-y things like that,” you said with a whine while, yes, squirming in place, “It goes straight to my cunt.”

Aizawa closed his eyes for a moment, but he soon opened them and continued, unaffected. “Focus. I’m holding you to a higher calibre than your peers, because I know you can do it. What have you been taught about remaining calm in crisis? Ground yourself.”

“But I—”

“Do it.”

You huffed and tried to settle down into your body, counted, and exhaled slowly as you shut your eyes, waiting for your other sense to sharpen. Body scan—focusing on flowing energy, starting at your head, down to your toes, and back up again. But you had trouble on the return to the top of your head, since every cell in your body screamed to zoom in on the throbbing in your lower half—hard to say what’s tremoring more: you, or the walls of the cavern.

But there’s an infinitesimal sound that drowns every other maddening, oversensitive sensation: from the back of Aizawa’s throat comes a quiet, breathy whimper.

And—

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, noticing all of the surreptitious ways Aizawa was trying to hide how affected he was: his hand clasped in a knuckle-whitening fist covering his lap, eyes watering with frustration, jaw tensed, neck and hand veins pulsating, sweating through his undershirt, and you?

Wetting your lips, you strained forward to brush his hair aside to kiss the back of his neck, and Aizawa fucking shuddered, the thing passing through his whole body. Though it hadn’t been your intention, your legs spread as you did so, parting on either side of him, and his hair flew into your face as he took in your legs surrounding him.

“Hey, no,” he said, and he pushed back on your legs, willing you to scrunch up to hug them to your chest again.

“I’m not doing anything—”

“You fucking are,” Aizawa hissed over his shoulder, “You’re being a goddamn brat.”

That shut you up immediately. Feeling slick drip out of you, you curled in on yourself, tucking your legs up to your chest like he wanted.

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to keep guard.

His shoulders seemed wider than before.

Maybe it’s the heady, prickling excitement swarming in your chest at the unspoken threat of a punishment turned sexual, or maybe it’s the incoming brain damage, but you rounded up every nerve not currently on fire to keep pushing your luck. “Aizawa,” you said, soft enough for only him to hear over the squelching from the far side of the cavern, “If we were alone right now, what would you do to me?”

He didn’t respond.

An easy grin stretched across your face.

“Because I know there’s got to be stuff you wanna do to me, not with me, for how I behave sometimes. But I only want your attention,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy as heat flushed all over your feverish skin, “I know you can’t give it to me, because you wanna be all noble and stuff, but—”

Another cramp had you gasping and hacking up red-tinged spit. Aizawa started to turn his head, but you told him, totally deflated, “Don’t bother. I’m sorry—” You coughed up more red mucus. “I know I’m gross; I know you can’t look at me that way; I’m sorry I’ve been—I’m sorry.”

How can he be so calm? It’s not fucking fair that he can just sit there, cross-legged and sweating, with the scent of sex permeating the smoke-hazy air, and yes, he’s hard, but that’s just the stupid fucking quirk.

You’re dripping and clenching but still so, so empty, and the tears finally overflowed as Aizawa looked over his shoulder at you again. “I’m sorry,” you said again, eyes glazing over and breathing irregularly (for all the talk about Aoyama hyperventilating, you might be the one to actually do it). “I’ll—I’ll stop bothering you; I can handle this. I’ll, uh—” You cut yourself off at another cramp, seizing up at a stray spasm, releasing your hold on your legs and yanking at the roots of your hair. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll get—get Shinsou to make me come—sorry I tried to—I’m sorry; I should’ve left you alone—”

“Stop apologising.” Aizawa twisted to brush away your tears with his thumb, the skin that vibrant pink when he pulled away. “Christ, you’re burning up.” He hand returned to your face, this time against your forehead, and he frowned—yeah, he was frowning before you were pathetically raising yourself off the ground to nuzzle into his hand, to mouth voraciously at his palm, which flushed pink with every pass of your lips, and—

“Fuck,” said Aizawa, withdrawing his hand to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. You made a questioning noise, and to answer, he let his gaze drop to where the soaked patch between your legs dribbled into the rubble. He dragged his hands down the rest of his face. “You’re drenched,” he said, rasping.

A vehement moan from the other side of the space made both of you flinch, with Aizawa making a quick check to ensure their attention wasn’t on you.

You grabbed his capture weapon, pulling him close. “Please,” you said, panting, “Please, ‘Zawa, I’m not as capable as you think I am; I’m not good; I can’t take it. Please—”

His teeth dug into his lower lip as a grumbled scoff came from the back of this throat, and he shook his head. “God, not like this. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

Another loud moan and the sounds of skin on skin from the others brought another wince from the two of you, and Aizawa squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he’d steeled himself, determined and set. “I can’t have you corrupting my protégé,” he said (it was a joke, right? Why isn’t he smiling?), “but I can’t offer you anything more.”

“Wha—?”

Aizawa was nudging your knees open, his eyebrows raised, and when he turned to face the others, he scooted backwards to sit between your spread legs, pinning you between the rock and his back, crowding you in, and oh, oh, my God, you should’ve been embarrassed at how wet the back of his jumpsuit got as he pushed himself back to sit right in front of your crotch, but the first, pulsing wave of relief as your clit rubbed against him washed everything else away.

Did this count? Did this count as coming at someone else’s hands? You found the problem less compelling the more you thrashed against him, grinding your clit against his back so hard that your vision blacked out at the edges, breathing in that terribly awful frustrating sexy combination of pine and sandalwood, desperately huffing it in in gasping breaths and curling your fingers into the back of his jumpsuit to bring him closer: you needed to kiss the back of his neck again, to see that pink mark on his skin.

But it’s as if he knew what you were going to do, because instead of letting you pull his hair aside, he reached back to grab your hand, and he (mercifully) allowed the grab to relax into a hold, letting you lace your fingers through his as he guided your arm around his waist (an evil part of you was disappointed that he didn’t place your hand over his cock, instead of resting your entwined hands on his leg [cute]).

And you were quiet: you didn’t moan, so the others wouldn’t know, unless they could somehow make out your laboured breathing behind the hand you cupped over your mouth. You’re grappling for pressure against your clit, but it’s your shiver when he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb that triggered your orgasm—pounding, rushing, and all at once, the throbbing of your clit taking you somewhere distant and piney, with you slowly coming back to reality by an abrupt pulsing, for some reason, in the roof of your mouth.

And the quirk had passed through you.

It counted.

But it kept you bound in a tired haze, sultry and lethargic and red, and lost in the lingering high of both the scarlet saliva you kept hacking up and that Aizawa let you grind against him until you came, you closed in on yourself and did your best to stay awake. Your brain tried to worry about Aizawa, but the quirk shushed you and forced you into a cloudy exhaustion.

You were out of it when Aizawa’s radio crackled to life, when the rescue unit exhumed your team, when the EMT on duty looked you over. You were still foggy when you were put in a passenger seat of a government vehicle, but the fog dissipated when Aizawa climbed in the driver’s seat and told you to call Midnight.

“I don’t know the number for Sakura Grove,” he said, turning on the windshield wipers, “and I need to warn Midnight that I’m asking her to help me with this quirk.”

Thunder rumbled through the sky and into your bones as he turned into downtown traffic, headlights blurring in the rain. Blankly, you wrestled his phone out of your pocket and began to dial her work number. “Okay, traitor.”

Aizawa’s expression darkened, his face glistening with sweat. “You know that I can’t—”

“So I can’t do the same for you?” you asked, putting his phone on speaker and letting it ring (cranking up the volume to hear it over the rain pelting the windows), “I can’t just, like, hold out my hand for you to grind against, or, God forbid, give you an actual fucking handjob—”

“Stop it,” he said, and he snatched his phone from you, switching off speaker, and you crossed your arms to fume, staring out into the miserably grey morning.

You smushed your forehead against the cool of the window, watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass, and you tried to focus on car horns blaring instead of the conversation regarding Aizawa’s sexual release that he and Midnight were currently having.

When he hung up, you sat up from your slouch against the window. “Is that all you need me for, then? You’ve got the number. You might as well drop me off at the next light.”

Aizawa swore under his breath. “Stop being such a—” He cut himself off, his leg not working the pedals bouncing profusely. “I still need you to enter Sakura Grove.”

That was true. You had three number-codes to punch in for clearance, and there was a thumbprint scan at the building in which you and Midnight worked. Still, you scoffed. “Just get Nemuri to let you in. You evidently don’t need me.”

The hand on the steering wheel tensed, veins pulsing. “First name basis?”

“Some professors like me.”

“Forget I said anything,” he grumbled, and when you turned to the window again, he mashed on the car radio, volume loud over the rain.

After a babble of a drum solo and what sounded like shouting in English, you were able to translate the song in your head by the time it hit the chorus:

“Got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher.”

Aizawa stared, baffled, at the radio instead of the road as the guitar picked up, and he changed stations.

Again, in English, but with a hypnotically alt-relaxed beat: “Can’t tell my friends, ‘cause they will laugh; I love a member of the staff.”

You sneaked a glance at the driver’s seat, where Aizawa was fighting traffic, his erection, and his incredulity at what he was hearing.

“I fight my way to the front of class to get the best view of her—”

Aizawa changed stations before the singer could finish the couplet, and he sank into his seat at the safe sounds of synth and guitar, but you sat up straight, eyes wide and biting back a laugh, because you knew what the fuck was coming:

“Don’t stand—don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me—”

Aizawa smashed the radio’s off button, seething. He ran his fingers back through his hair, and after a deep breath, he opened his mouth. “What’d you do,” he asked flatly.

“Me?” you said, pointing at yourself, doing your fucking best not to smile, “What makes you think I’ve done something?”

Aizawa was panting. Chest heaving. Sweat visibly dripping down his face. Free hand darting between a superfluous position on the wheel, resting on the car door, and bunching up his jumpsuit to hide his erection, which only drew attention to it. “You didn’t—you and Nemuri didn’t orchestrate all this, did you?” he asked, teeming with nervous energy, “It’s a little—it’s a little too perfect for you, to get to see me dishevelled and desperate, to nearly get me to cave into what you want.”

Several feelings flooded you at once: revulsion at the suggestion you made a criminal use her quirk on you, anger that he’d even consider it to be in your character when he’s known you for years (and more anger that he thought you would want to lose your virginity with three other guys in the room), a wretched, clawing desperation to prove him wrong and beg for forgiveness—and a creeping disgust and shame towards yourself, for having been so vulnerable in his presence when he didn’t want it or you.

Time to shut down. “C’mon, Aizawa. That’s not very logical in the grand scheme of things,” you said, scathingly using his favourite word, propping your chin on your fist, and leaning against the window again, “And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t let it end with my fucking soulmate going to someone else to make him come, especially when I was similarly helpless.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you—”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” you said bitterly, “but I wouldn’t do that. To you or to me. I don’t do things that would humiliate or hurt you.” You scooted closer towards the car window, away from him and his stupid pine aftershave. “I guess I’m a brat, yeah, but I’m not mean.”

To have something to do instead of talk to him, you exhumed the car manual from the glove compartment and started to read it, and you read that dull fucking piece of crap until you were forced to punch in your clearance codes for Sakura Grove.

As soon as he was inside the main building and out of sight, you slammed the manual and the glove compartment shut, and you screamed. No one would’ve heard you over the thunderstorm, anyway. Comforting that the weather was as angry as you.

You unbuckled and cosied up in your seat, glaring at the curtain of mist blowing rain horizontal outside. Lightning illuminated a worker rushing from one building to another, and she had to double back to get her ballet flat, hopping slightly to put it back on.

You don’t have another work shift until Monday, but you kind of wanted to clock in, anyway. It’d be satisfying to bitch about the whole thing with Ito. She’d tear into Aizawa. He deserves it.

Slunking down into your seat, you were struck with new terror: what if Aizawa were right? What if you did, inadvertently, plan this out, by inhaling Ito’s quirk dust a second time? Sex pollen was…sex pollen was a trope. A pretty fucking common one.

Oh, my God.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and tried to work out the logistics. Serendipity was already scheduled to arrive in Japan regardless of you inhaling the dust again, and—fuck fuck fuck. You didn’t like this.

You swallowed thickly, turning it all over in your head, and as the variables overlapped and blurred in your mind, you started to cry.

“Goddammit,” you said aloud, sitting up and dabbing at your face with your sleeve. You’ve already cried a lot today, and it’s not even noon. You’re taking a nap when you get back to campus.

You know who else likes naps?

You fucking sobbed harder, even though you were laughing a bit, too. You decided that you were too worn out to make any sound judgments. Go to sleep once you get back, and think about it when you wake up.

You sniffed and looked towards the door to the main building. God, he’s taking a long time. You’d figure that he’d edged himself to oblivion and back during the car ride, but no—

The next instant, you tensed up, frazzled, because a half-dressed Aizawa’s straddling you, hips jerking, driving into your own and biting into his fist as he came on your shirt, cum spurting all the way up to your boobs.

The groan he released once the spill of his cum slowed to a slight dribble nearly wrecked your ears and stopped your breath. You’re hastily, desperately drinking up details, eyes flicking over them rapidly in case they’re snatched away before you could notice: the weeping, pink tip of his cock, the only part of his dick peeking out of his jumpsuit’s lower half—the trail of dark hair leading up to it from his naval, framed by an infuriating v on his lithely muscled abdomen—all of his exposed, corded muscles of his chest, tendons visibly stretching and contracting in his forearms—and when he wiped that final drop of cum off his cock, it was with the thumb stained with soulmark pink.

Of course, for how much relaxation coursed through his body, it all fled him the second he finally opened his eyes.

You expected that he’d scramble to cover himself up and off of you, but once that initial panic faded, all he was left with was resignation. He yanked up the elastic of his boxer-briefs to hide his cock, and, sighing, he said, “Please. Please don’t say anything. I can’t handle it right now.”

You nodded. His eyes travelled over your face, his expression cracking. “You’re crying,” he said, voice breaking.

“Not because of you,” you said, wiping at your tears, “It’s something I did.”

He wiped away the tear stains on your other cheek. “Let’s find something to clean you up.”

While he twisted to fossick through the console for tissues, you swiped two fingers through the stuff on your shirt. So, this was a man’s cum. Weird. Thick. (You’ve seen some before; you’re not an idiot, but this was your first time, uh, experiencing it. Honestly, it reminded you a bit of the congealed quirk stuff earlier.) You rubbed it between your fingers.

“Oh, what are you doing—no, stop that,” said Aizawa softly, swatting your hand away from your cum-stained shirt. When you eyed the bit on your fingers, Aizawa sighed again. “Don’t taste it.”

He took your hand and wiped it clean, pink ink seeping across skin with every brief touch. He gave you a tissue from the pack he found for your tears, and he used the rest to wipe off your shirt.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything else for you to wear,” he said, checking the backseat.

“It’s okay,” you said, balling up the tissues and putting them in the centre console, “We’re going straight back to campus. I’ll just shower and go to bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Aizawa, and he lifted himself from your lap and moved to cross to the driver’s seat.

You grabbed his arm to stop him. “You should, too. Don’t run yourself dry.”

Aizawa froze, considering, and then he nodded, slowly sinking back onto your lap.

He braced his hands on his thighs. “I’ve been cruel to you.”

Too exhausted to argue, you shrugged. “You have your reasons.”

“I shouldn’t be so cold to you, though. It’s been wearing away at my conscience,” he said, patting his pockets on his thighs and moving down to his calves. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he said, “Give me your phone. You deserve my number, at least.”

You pulled yours out and opened a new contact before handing it over. “You’re sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, tapping the screen, “So long as it doesn’t…lead to anything out of bounds. And…maybe you can stick around for a while next time you shift in your sleep.” He shot you a smirk as he returned your phone.

The contact name simply read Shouta. No surname or honorifics. Just Shouta.

Heat rose to your face, but it was much pleasanter than when it had earlier that day.

“Are you good to drive back to campus?”

Tilting your head, you pocketed your phone again. “Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“Good,” he said, climbing off of your lap and into the backseat, “I’m going the fuck to sleep.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

#bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa/reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa fic #mha #aizawa headcanons #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa fanfic #aizawa shouta x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 10 months ago

Text

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Danny Wagner ***valentines slash

Warnings: absolutely 18+ only!!!, slash ofc, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, bunk sex, lil bit of dirty talk, some brief talk of anxious feelings, fluffy ending!

Word count: 6k

“Here we are, no show tonight on Valentines Day, in Hershey Pennsylvania of all places, and I’m stuck with you two!” Josh pointedly exclaimed as the three of them walked down the street towards the small modest bar.

Jake didn’t need a reminder of the situation. Josh was being extra dramatic as always, but Jake was trying to hide that he was actually genuinely upset.

Sam bumped his shoulder, trying to cheer him up as Josh continued on in front of them rambling on to himself as if they were even still listening.

“He’s alright you know” Sam muttered over to Jake, who shrugged his shoulder trying to brush it off like he didn’t know what Sam was insinuating.

At sound check earlier Danny was acting a little standoffish. Jake figured it was just pre show nerves from being at this venue for the first time. But when they finished up for the day and decided to go out, Danny asked to stay behind because he wasn’t feeling well.

Jake had offered to stay as well. He didn’t mind taking care of a sick boyfriend if it meant they got to spend the holiday together, but Danny insisted he go out with his brothers.

So he agreed to go, only because by that point he felt kind of silly for having put so much thought into the false sentiment of spending Valentine’s Day together in the first place. He’d never been thrilled to spend the holiday with anyone before- though he’d done his due diligence in his past relationships to at least get his significant other something cheesy.

This year things were a little different though. He was with Danny, whom he never would have imagined he’d be with last Valentines, but he was so over the moon falling head over heels for.

“Just try to enjoy the evening, maybe if we get Josh drunk enough we can get him to record another stupid TikTok” Sam joked, holding the door open like a good younger brother while the oldest already ran off to start ordering drinks.

“You guys are the ones who are into that shit, not me” Jake scoffed as he entered the bar, next in line to order his alcohol hard and hopefully get a buzz going.

An hour in and Sam was right. Josh was using a fork from a greasy basket of bar food he and Sam had devoured without saving a bite while Jake was waiting in line for the restroom to sing karaoke, and Sam was holding his phone up to record it.

“You guys are ridiculous. I’m going to get another drink” Jake spoke up after Josh thanked his crowd of two and tilted his head in a tiny bow.

As he stood against the edge of the bar he took the opportunity to check his phone again. He’d sent a few texts to check in on Danny from the bathroom hallway, but he hadn’t gotten a reply yet. Maybe he was taking the rare opportunity with the bus all to himself to sleep it off? Even if he was, Jake felt uncomfortably moody sitting at a bar and drinking when he knew Danny wasn’t feeling well. He wanted to help take care of him, nature him, and be the one person there in his time of need. It’s not like they were a married couple or anything, but Jake took ‘in sickness and in health’ pretty seriously.

“I think I’m going to call it” Jake proclaimed as he tossed back the rest of his most recent drink.

“Wait, why?” Sam perked up, suddenly anxious about letting Jake leave.

“Do I need to have a reason?” Jake suspiciously questioned back, leaning on one arm over the round tabletop to give Sam a warning look. There was no messing around with him right now, if Sam knew something he didn’t then he’d better be out with it.

“Whatever! No!” Sam scoffed, waving his hand to shoo him off.

“Tell Danny we send our best regards” Josh commented, sharing taunting smirks with Sam as Jake rolled his eyes and tossed a few bills on the table for them to close his tab.

Danny sat on the edge of the small couch, waiting anxiously for the squeaky door of the bus to open and signal Jake’s anticipated return. He’d been nervous all day even though he’d planned this night over a week ago when he took a good look at the schedule and realized they wouldn’t be busy on Valentine's Day.

Of course he felt a little silly planning something for Jake, who he knew didn’t normally care for the contrived theatrics of the holiday. Something in Danny told him though that it would still be nice to spend the evening together.

A text came in from Sam, the only other person in on Danny’s plan, to warn him when Jake had left the bar. It was right in time, the food had just arrived and Danny had successfully finished setting everything up before his inevitable arrival.

He put his hand over his chest and breathed deeply to try and calm his nerves. Something he’d learned to do from Josh early in the game when they started hitting it big and the stakes were higher than ever. Then he heard it, the door opening and the sound of boots coming up the few steps.

“What is this?” Jake questioned from where he stood at the entrance of the bus, eyes darting around to try and take everything in.

Danny stood from the couch and inched towards the table that he had spent the evening setting up. Underneath it was just a folding table he’d borrowed from the crew so he could haul it through the narrow door and up the stairs. Over top that though, Danny had added a nice white linen table cloth, a set of plates and tableware, and even a few flowers. The food had to be Italian take out since he didn’t have a real kitchen to cook in, but surely Jake wouldn’t mind.

“I know you think stuff like this is ridiculous, but I wanted to spend Valentine's Day with you so I set this diner up for us” Danny revealed with a slightly nervous half smile. He hoped Jake didn’t think he looked stupid for doing this, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t read the initial reaction on his face.

Jake’s heart began to pound inside his chest, not only because of the sweetness of the gesture, but because of the realization that they had both wished to spend this day together. He started to understand the sentiment- it was never about what gifts or what fancy restaurant you made reservations at. Valentine's day was always about who you spent it with, and Jake was never more happy with the person he had.

Danny hoped he heard Jake’s next words right. “I fucking love you” fell happily from his lips as he hurried over and practically tackled Danny with his embrace.

Normally Danny would be more than able to take Jake’s weight coming at him like that, but he was so caught off guard by what Jake had said that when their bodies collided he stumbled back into the table behind him. One hand came behind to brace himself against the thin table while the other wrapped tightly around Jake’s waist, pulling him even closer as Jake kissed him feverishly.

A plate and a few tableware fell first with the bustle, but Danny wasn’t even phased by it because he was still reeling from hearing those words for the first time. Not even in an ‘love you man’ kind of way, but Jake had said he loved him with a look of awe and amazement, and it felt fucking good.

The poor table was never meant to support their weight. So when Jake pressed further against Danny letting him feel how excited he already was, before Danny could let his hand travel from Jake’s waist to grip the ass underneath his tight jeans, two of the wobbly legs of the table gave out and sent them and the rest of its contents sliding to the floor.

Jake jumped up off of Danny, slight panic and worry immediately setting in as he helped him up hoping no one was hurt in the commotion.

Danny looked behind himself to see the remnants of the table and the work he’d put in all in a mess and broke into laughter. What did he really expect when dating a Kiszka? They couldn’t help breaking things.

Jake started to hesitantly laugh a little too, still unsure if Danny was hysterical or genuinely thought the situation was funny. When Danny turned back around both hands reached over to cup Jake’s face and pull him back into a kiss, picking up right where they’d left off like nothing had happened.

Jake settled back into the kiss quickly, wrapping his arms around Danny’s neck and jumping up to also wrap his legs around his waist. Danny chuckled again against Jake’s lips this time as his hands fell to his bottom to hold Jake there and walked them the short distance to the area with the bunks.

Danny disconnected only to lay Jake down into one of the bunks, then he crawled inside on top of him, sliding a hand underneath his shirt up his chest and scattering kisses against the skin he exposed as he did so. The thing was, periodically they switched bunks so that no one was having to sleep on the top or the bottom for too long. In the heat of the moment Danny must have forgotten that Jake and Sam had switched recently, so instead of being in one of theirs, they were actually in Sam’s right now.

Jake wasn’t about to say anything that would stop him though, not when Danny was already popping the button to his jeans open and dragging his zipper down as he sucked a colorful bruise into the side of his chest. Jake’s head was swirling, the alcohol he’d had at the bar finally starting to catch up with him. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, letting his hand fall into place on top of Danny’s head as his hot breath traveled downward. A content sigh left his lips when the front of his boxers were pulled down and a hand helped pull him free, giving a few soft strokes as well.

“Tell me what you want Jake. I want to give you everything” Danny spoke between kisses against the delicate curves of his hip and crotch.

“I want everything” Jake groaned, bucking his hips up to try and get more friction, or even better his mouth where he really wanted it.

“Don’t be greedy” Danny chuckled, adding some grip to his strokes until Jake’s cock was nice and completely hard against his palm.

“Fine. I want your mouth”.

“And then?”

Jake peaked his eyes open to see Danny staring up at him with a teasingly soft smile. How was he supposed to know what he wanted next when all he could think about now was being inside that wet warmth?

“Then I want you to fuck me” Jake pleaded, hoping his responce would give him what he needed now, and he could deal with the consequences of his request later.

Danny rewarded him with a kiss to the tip, making Jake suck in a lungful of air with anticipation. “Of course love, anything you want”.

Without missing another beat Danny sunk down, taking Jake in as far as he could go like he was hungry for it. Which he probably was considering they’d somehow managed to skip dinner and make their way directly to dessert. He’d just have to milk Jake to his fill then.

“God Danny you do that so good” Jake squirmed underneath him, trying to keep his pelvis from driving forward and letting Danny work on his own.

There wasn’t much room in the bunk, though Jake and Danny had learned to manage with what they had over the last couple of months of navigating their relationship. Danny had determined that keeping his knees curled under his chest was the best position to do this in. Another thing he’d learned was that Jake liked it wet and sloppy. He pulled off, letting a trail of spit from his bottom lip to Jake’s tip keep them connected.

“Don’t hold yourself back today” Danny requested, letting a little more saliva trail from his mouth causing Jake to groan at the lewd display.

Jake pulled himself up onto one of his elbows and reached his other hand over to caress Danny’s cheek in appreciation. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you”.

“You won’t Jake, I trust you” Danny grabbed his hand and guided it back onto his head before closing his mouth down around him again.

He could have just as easily taken the lead and driven Jake absolutely crazy, but he wanted him to completely let go this time. Unravel himself until he was nothing but a pliable puddle of pleasure.

Jake’s fingers laced themselves into Danny’s curls, giving a slight tug at the roots that made Danny hum around him. Another breath filled his lungs as he dug his heels into the small mattress and thrust upwards triggering Danny’s gag reflex as he hit deeper.

He glanced down again to check on his loving boyfriend, his chest heaving already with excitement. Danny only sucked harder, giving Jake’s thigh a squeeze to tell him to try again.

When he thrust again Danny was more prepared this time, becoming more familiar with the feeling of the back of his throat being prodded and learning to swallow around it without gagging.

“Fuck that’s it” Jake moaned as he really started to thrust this time, letting his head fall backwards and his eye flutter closed again. “I fucking love your mouth, you take me so well” praises were spilling from Jake as he was hurdling towards his finish all too soon with each glide of his throbbing erection past teeth and along slick tongue.

As much as he wanted to taste him now, Danny couldn’t have that yet. So with watery eyes he retreated, replacing his mouth with his hand again to keep Jake writhing and whimpering close to the edge. His free hand fumbled with the edge of the bed that was pressed against the wall. Trying and failing to find their hidden stash of lube.

Then it hit him, this wasn’t Jake’s bunk anymore. They were intruding on someone else’s space, but in this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care much about that.

He had an internal debate with himself for a moment. Did he try to make spit work instead? No, not if he was going to fuck Jake the way he’d asked him to.

“Jake, my love,” Danny spoke horsely as he regained the use of his throat and slowed his stroking, “I’m going to have to get up for a second”.

“What?” Jake groaned, wrapping one of his legs around Danny’s form in an attempt to keep him there with him.

“Shhh, just for a second” he finally pulled his hands from him completely, and pried Jake’s leg off so that he could crawl out of the bunk and find their bottle. “While I’m gone, why don’t you get a little more undressed?”

“Only if you do the same” Jake bargained as he ran his hand mindlessly up his torso, looking up at Danny with hungry glazed over eyes.

There was no way Danny was going to deny that request. He quickly pulled his shirt off to show Jake he would obey any wish he had then leaned down to kiss him once more before turning to rummage through the correct bunk for what he needed.

The faint sound of clothes being stripped off and tossed onto the ground behind him egged Danny on as he felt around underneath blankets until his fingers came across a familiar cylindrical shape. His heart beat began to thunder in his chest, not just because he was thinking about all the shameful things he was about to do to his boyfriend in his best friend's bunk, but because he still felt slightly nervous.

It got easier with Jake every time they were together, but for some reason Danny had also put it on his shoulders to try to one up himself each time. He wasn’t sure why, Jake was certainly the best he’d ever had, but part of himself still doubted his abilities- especially when Jake looked at him like he was some sort of sex god. He wasn’t, he was just another man with his own desires to stifle as he desperately tried to keep his cool when he held his lover.

With the trusty lube in hand, Danny one handedly undid his pants and slipped them off with his underwear. He was hard already as well, going down on Jake never once failing to get him riled up.

“Are you coming back?” Jake’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Danny smiled and moved to crouch back down and into the intimate space again. “I'm right here” Danny soothed him as he pressed their naked forms together and rejoined their mouths in another sweet kiss.

Jake hummed as he let his lips separate to deepen the kiss and wrapped his arms around Danny’s broad shoulders. “You won’t leave again?”

“I’ll never leave you” Danny assured him, letting his hand run down the smooth lines of Jake’s side, feeling the rising of his chest as he sucked in a breath of air and down to the dip of his hips. He grabbed a handful of flesh there, using that firm grip to grind down together.

Jake let himself get lost in the kiss, fingers digging into rippling back muscles as he tried to pull Danny even closer to him. The pressure on his chest was almost suffocating, but it was calming at the same time to be completely enveloped in warmth and touch. He’d been so touch starved before Danny, and now he couldn’t get enough of his lovers hands on him.

The hand on his hip slipped lower, leaving tiny clammy goosebumps across Jake’s thigh until it reached his knee and hooked around it to pull his leg up. Jake wanted to wrap that leg back around Danny’s narrow waist and use it as leverage to thrust against his lower stomach until he was back on the edge Danny had left him on earlier. Instead he let it just fall to the side, inviting Danny to keep exploring his body knowing full well that he was in good hands.

Retrieving the bottle Danny had brought back with him, he pulled away slightly so that he could squeeze a good amount into his palm and slip his arm between their bodies.

Jake gasped when the hand unexpectedly wrapped around his still hardened length, lathering it up. Then Danny’s arm retreated, reaching up to pull one of Jake’s off his shoulders and guided it back down. “Here” Danny whispered, leaving Jake’s hand on his own erection to touch himself as he went back for more lube.

Jake tugged slowly, wanting to prolong the building tension but also mindlessly unable to stop himself from feeling that pleasure as Danny’s fingers found their way towards his entrance.

Danny shifted to the side, propping himself up on one elbow next to Jake’s head to give himself just a little more access in the small space. A tiny moan left Jake’s kiss swollen lips as his fingers circled him, feeling the muscle flutter underneath the pads of his fingertips until one pressed inside up to his second knuckle.

Jake’s grip on his cock tightened as he tried to keep his body from tensing up at the intrusion. Danny could feel the subconscious fight back, knowing he’d have to work to get Jake loose enough to accept him. He leaned over and placed a kiss against the point of his shoulder and Jake smiled a little bit before licking his lips. “It feels…” he couldn’t come up with the words because nothing sounded just right- strange, intimate, blissful.

Without finishing his sentence he wiggled his hips trying to get Danny to give him more. Danny got the signal, slowly pushing in until he was up to his last knuckle. Jake let out a sigh in an exhale, hoping Danny would start to move without him having to ask for it.

Danny was so tuned into Jake’s body right now though. He felt Jake’s muscles tense and relax over and over again until finally there was no fight. Jake relaxed fully and Danny began to nudge that finger in deeper, as deep as he could go, hooking it upwards until Jake’s hand abruptly stopped and his brows furrowed tightly.

Afraid he might have hurt him Danny started to pull back, but then Jake’s mouth fell open and a moan escaped. “Another Danny, I want another” he pleaded.

Jake started to whine when Danny’s finger slid nearly completely out of him, only the tip of his finger still remaining, but he was quickly silenced when another finger joined in alongside it and pushed inside as well.

There was a slight burn that subsided when Danny found the place he was just in, making Jake’s hips jerk up in overwhelming sensitivity. But then he settled back down, took a steadying breath and turned his head to catch Danny’s lips in a searing kiss.

“Fuck Jake you’re so tight” Danny whispered into his ear when Jake laid his head back down onto the pillow. “I can’t wait to fill you. To feel you all around my cock”.

Jake tightened around his fingers again at his words, another uncontrolled moan escaping him. His heels were digging into the sheets again, trying to work his own hips down against Danny’s fingers in search for that spot that had him seeing stars. One of Danny’s legs wrapped around Jake’s though, effectively pinning him down and keeping him in place as his fingers picked up their pace.

“Then do it Danny, fuck me already” he begged, having long forgotten that he was supposed to be stroking himself as well.

“Not yet love,” Danny eased him with more kisses against his shoulder. He had to keep his sanity right now, knowing that if he jumped the gun he would be doing more harm than good and this really could end all too soon.

Jake's body shuddered, he was sure Danny had never called him that before, love, though he’d said it multiple times tonight already. It was catching on and he liked it. “You know, they say it’s always the silent ones who are the freakiest in bed?” Jake chuckled, having lost his mind to the point he was just rambling about anything that came to him.

Danny chuckled a little as well, his chest bumping against Jake’s side. Not because he thought Jake was right, but because he seemed to have been nervous earlier for no reason. Jake ate up everything he did and said, he could probably lean over and spit into Jake’s mouth right now and Jake would drink it up without hesitation.

He stored that thought away for another time as he refocused on the task at hand and cautiously introduced a third finger. He waited for the tension to return, for Jake’s body to fight the addition, but there was no struggle this time. Jake was ready.

He worked those three fingers for a bit longer, ignoring the soreness building in his hand, until he was absolutely sure.

“Jake, ” Danny’s voice returned to its deeper register, sultry and dripping with lust, “turn over”.

Jake wasn’t sure what he’d meant at first. Too lost in his own world of pleasure to register the command until Danny was pulling his fingers from him and nudging his hip in the opposite direction. With his leg also free, Jake turned onto his side

Blind to what was happening behind him now, Jake could still hear the sound of the lube cap popping open again and the slight sticky sound of Danny lathering himself up.

He waited in silence as Danny scooted closer to him, waiting for him to push inside and connect them in the most intimate way.

Danny was too far behind him in thought though, still wanting to gently ease him into their union. He reached his still slick hand around and gave Jake a few tugs.

“No!” Jake cried out, startling Danny but also bringing him back down to Earth from where he’d started to ascend somewhere else entirely. He opened his mouth to ask Jake what the matter was, but Jake was already answering him with an arch of his back and his hand flying back to grip Danny’s thigh. “Please, inside me now”.

Danny bit the inside of his cheek to stop all the obscenities that were flooding his brain with Jake’s plea from spilling out.

Again, Danny obeyed, bringing his hand back around to guide himself between those profoundly round cheeks until he was nudging his way in.

Jake did good breathing through it, exhaling slowly and deeply until Danny’s hips were flush against his ass.

“Oh my god” Jake moaned. He’d never get enough of this feeling- never get enough of Danny.

Still propped up on one elbow, Danny wrapped the other arm around Jake’s chest, “I’m gonna move now”.

Jake didn’t have to say anything to let Danny know he was ready, his grip on Danny’s thigh only tightened as he felt the muscles begin to work underneath his hand.

His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, gaining momentum with each little noise he pulled from Jake. Like an audible reward for his patience, and the burning desire only grew in the depths of his stomach. He was losing himself now, quickly. Every thread of restraint he’d had was unraveling with each snap of his hips into Jake.

“I don’t ever want to stop” Danny groaned, burying his face underneath Jake's jaw where it cornered to meet his ear.

“Then don’t” Jake challenged, removing his hand from Danny’s thigh to bring it back in front of his body and grip the edge of the bunk instead. He arched his back harder, feeling his chest press against Danny’s embrace, and started to rock his hips back in sync with each of Danny’s thrusts forward.

The slight change in angle made all the difference, Danny could feel the way he slid in even a centimeter more and started to claim that spot deep within Jake again. “You’re pushing your luck” he grit his teeth, knowing if they kept this up much longer he’d be finishing without another word.

Only there was still so much he wanted to say, so many feelings raging within him that he needed to get out first before he could fully revel in his impending release. All those words still unspoken, and all those emotions boiled down into the one thing he knew he was capable of saying now-

“I love you too. I love you Jake. I love you” he repeated over and over again against Jake’s collar bone and he’d say it again and again until every bone in Jake’s body knew he was loved.

“Danny,” Jake’s voice shook as his body quivered underneath him, “I’m gonna cum, but please don’t stop”.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Danny asked, already starting to move his arm from Jake’s chest, but Jake grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm tighter around him.

“No, I want to cum just like this” Jake replied, letting himself remain completely wrapped in Danny’s embrace and with one more thrust he was breaking apart.

Jake’s head tilted back until he met Danny’s shoulder and his body went stiff as he came, but Danny didn’t let up. He fucked Jake through his orgasm, draining his last bit of energy into giving Jake everything he had as he scattered kisses across his face anywhere he could reach.

When Jake relaxed again and Danny was sure he was coming down from his high he finally let himself go as well, spilling inside Jake with one last kiss to his brow.

“Am I ever going to get tired of that?” Jake asked with a euphoric look on his face.

Danny settled his mind as he came down as well, looking for the right thing to say other than ‘I’m fucking not’.

“Do you ever get tired of playing shows?”

Jake thought about it for a moment. Sure at some point he’d grown tired of constantly being on the road, of being homesick, of keeping the same routine from town to town until they all started to blur together, but even then it wasn’t lost on him that he was living his dream. “I still get a rush of adrenaline right before getting on stage. Being up there, exposed for all those admiring eyes to see, it’s scary but it’s thrilling”.

Danny reached around and gathered the stray pieces of Jake’s hair that had fallen into his face with all the movement and smoothed it over to the side. “It’s the same,” he revealed his meaning for asking that question, letting his fingers continue to gently outline the pronounced features of Jake’s face. “I still get those feelings before a show too, but none of them compare to how I feel when I’m with you”.

He watched as Jake’s cheeks flushed and his lips curled into a toothy smile as he turned his head into the pillow to try and hide his embarrassment. “He sweet talks after sex too?”

Danny grabbed his chin and pulled it back towards him, leaning over to connect their lips once more. “I’m the whole package, you’d better get used to it”.

What if I don’t want to get used to it? Jake thought to himself, but held that thought in as he felt Danny’s softened length gently sliding out and the warm rush of the result of their lovemaking behind it.

“Don’t move, I'm going to get something to clean you up. Sam will be pissed if we get cum all over his sheets”. Danny gently crawled over him and finally stretched out once he stood back up.

“I think we’re a little too late for that” Jake replied, looking down at the mess he’d made in front of him.

“Oh, right” Danny turned, taking in the full image of his boyfriend looking absolutely wrecked and disheveled, and fucking hot. He wanted to jump right back in there with him, even if he couldn’t physically handle a round two right now, just holding a slightly sweaty messy Jake would suffice. Only that couldn’t be an option because even with their couple of hours in heaven, the others would be coming back eventually. “Well, let’s clean you first and we will worry about the rest later”.

“I’m hungry” Jake commented as he pulled his boxers back on. He hadn’t had anything to eat at the bar earlier, and the activities had burned enough calories to leave him starving, and thirsty.

“Well, there’s still the dinner I ordered that you completely ignored” Danny replied in a joking tone.

“Wait, you ordered food?”

“What did you think the table was for?” Danny chuckled, remembering the broken mess they’d left in the front of the bus.

“Oh right,” Jake started to remember as well, feeling a little bit guilty that Danny had put effort into something and he had jumped the gun, “sorry I got a little excited”.

“It’s alright, we can still heat it up” Danny grabbed Jake’s hand and guided him back out, watching the mess as he sat him down on one of the couches.

He left him there to fish the togo containers out of the large paper bag and popped them in the microwave. “Oh, there’s also this” he crouched down and opened the mini fridge next, retrieving a bottle of champagne.

He set the bottle down on the small counter and opened up a few of the cupboards, finding only coffee mugs, and a few cups. “Well, looks like I forgot to buy some flutes though”.

“That’s alright” Jake stood and joined him, picking up the bottle and tearing it open without worrying about reading the label. He popped the cork and immediately brought it to his lips, trying to catch as much of the overflow as possible before taking a drink and handing it back to Danny.

Danny took a drink as well then Jake reclaimed the bottle and moved one of the two chairs over to the still standing side of the lopsided table. He didn’t attempt setting the bottle onto the table, instead leaving it on the floor next to him and waited patiently for the microwave to ding that the food was ready.

“Hush, I’m trying to listen” Josh shushed his chatty younger brother as they walked up to the bus. “Do you want to walk in on something you don’t want to see?”

“No” Sam replied, quieting down as Josh placed his ear against the door. “Are they in there?” He asked in a loud whisper after just a few seconds.

“Yes they’re in there, shut up!” Josh shushed him again, “they’re laughing”.

“Then we’re good, hurry up and go inside, it's freezing out here”.

Josh opened the door and they filed inside, shocked to see Jake and Danny both in their underwear sitting across from each other at a broken table and eating pasta straight out of the containers. “What the hell happened in here?”

“Want some champagne?” Jake ignored his question and held the bottle up, trying to fight off his laughter at the look of sheer embarrassment painted across Danny’s face. “I know it’s your favorite”.

“Not if you’re not drinking out of glasses” Josh replied, stepping further into the bus with Sam close behind him. “What are you a bunch of animals?” He stared at the table again and their state of undress, putting two and two together. “You do realize you have bunks for that right? We know you use them”.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Danny interjected, realizing he’d gotten caught up with Jake again talking during their meal and had forgotten to strip the sheets before they returned.

Sam looked at them confused until Jake offered a bit more clarification. “Oh we used the bunks, just not ours”.

“You’re joking right!” Sam yelled, pulling out his phone and frantically swiping before turning to stomp out of the bus.

“Sam! Where are you going?” Josh called after him and turned to follow.

“I’m looking up laundromats nearby to wash my damn sheets!”

Jake chuckled as they watched them both storm out. He knew he should be more sorry, but he couldn’t help but just be so happy that this night was ending much better than he had originally anticipated.

“These came with the food” Danny mentioned, grabbing a handful of tiny foil wrapped chocolates, offering one to Jake.

“Too sweet” Jake declined, stabbing his fork into his last bit of pasta then getting up to start cleaning up some of their mess before Josh and Sam came back. He couldn’t help but keep looking back with a smile on his face though as he watched his boyfriend peel open the wrappers and pop them into his mouth.

Danny chewed on the candy, savoring the velvety taste. “They are tasty though” he commented, planning on getting up to clean too as soon as he finished the chocolates.

Jake came from behind him and grabbed one shoulder, leaned over the opposite, and gently pulled Danny’s chin toward him until their lips were connecting, capturing him in a surprising kiss. Danny reached up and ran his fingers up through the hair at the back of Jake’s head, cradling him there as he kissed back once he realized what was happening.

Jake pulled back first, licking his lips with a cute little satisfied hum, “like I said, sweet”.

This was really fun to write! Hope you enjoyed my fav boys! Thanks @gracev0609 for hearing me out with this idea and hyping me up… came a long way from 500 words 😅

Tags: @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @lyndz2names

@lipstickitty @milojames16

#Greta van fic #greta van smut #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #danny wagner #Janny gvf

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solitarydoomsday · 6 months ago

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RAUUUGHHHH BLOCKSTUCK UPDATE FOR 6/12

RAUUUGHHGFHHH THIS HAS BEEN LIKE WAY TOO LONG IN THE MAKIGN BUT I FIGURED AN UPDATE WOULD BE FITTING FOR 6/12!!! its a super short update but i promise i won't leave you guys hanging for 2 years again lmfao. more coming soon!!! >:33

FIRST PAGE: https://mspfa.com/?s=43188&p=1

p.s. explanation for the excruciatingly long hiatus under the cut vv

i feel like i . owe you all an explaination with how long that really took to update. for fuck's sake it's been since april of 2022 since i updated it. i'm not gonna go into too much detail but pretty much Fucking Everything got away from me. that was the year my life kinda went to Shit towards the end and it sparked a really really fucking long depression that i just Couldnt Cope With so i just kind of. rotted. and so did most of my projects.

i'm on antidepressants now though, and i really wanna finish this story, even if it's gonna take me years just to finish one act. i put a *lot* of effort into this just for a simple self insert comic, and even though i don't entirely align with aselus' character anymore, i'm determined to finish what i've started. i still have a story to tell, i still have ideas and dreams for this comic, even if it wasn't initially what i wanted for it. even if it is just, at it's core, a cringy au where my self insert is friends with the main cast of characters. i still love this stupid thing, and i wanna finish it.

*however*,i'm not going to keep up with an "update schedule" anymore. i am, after all, just one guy working on this. it's not like hussie themself had an update schedule anyway. not to mention, i'm making all the music and panels and flashes all by myself, and i am learning how to use half of this shit from *scratch*. the update schedule just adds another layer of stress to the whole ordeal, and i'm not looking to add more stress to my plate with me trying to finish school and get into college early next year. i want this to be fun just as much for me as it is for anybody who decides to read blockstuck. i know that's extremely mushy for a comic like this, but i really do want this to be something i can fondly look back on as something i made that was actually pretty decent.

i already have a backlog of blockstuck panels ready to go, i'm working on one of the first flashes of the whole comic, but i'll start to slowly pump out the rest of what i've been working on when i can or . really even remember.

if you! read this novel of an explaination, thank you for listening to my creator woes, but i hope you can enjoy blockstuck as much as i have making it :) and this is !! hopefully going to be a better "start" than what i already started with.

thanks again to anybody whos stuck with the comic, and also sorry again to hussie for cussing them out when i first started this comic, lmfao. i still hate their guts but i love their work. Guh.

anyways. happy 6/12 everypony

#homestuck #blockstuck #aselus meleph #karkat vantas #mspfa #mspfanventures #mspfa update #6/12 #self insert #trollsona #homestuck oc #limeblood

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distortsverity · 2 years ago

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now that the statesec space program hc is finally done, a few things.

1. political science is not my major. i type, it makes sense to me, i leave. then i look over it again later, realize i now hate some part of it, and fuss over that for another hour.

2. if you truly finished what will hopefully be the most convoluted thing i’ll ever post here . . . i hope it never became incomprehensible. if you’re curious how the government works and who checks-and-balances what, i can only answer basic questions. please. i don’t wanna flesh out political processes and a whole damn constitution.

3. like the era of humiliation hc, it’s part of a very specific sinnoh that feeds into hikari’s own hopes, priorities, moral compass, etc., especially in regard to her reputation as the second savior. the rules page already discusses clashing world hc’s that can potentially complicate interactions, but i haven’t typed a single word about tying together world hc’s . . . so if you’re interested in, say, establishing historical or modern regional relations, feel free to let me know. 4. present-day hikari has already learned of statesec’s basic goals, whether kuznetsov outright told her ( which he would, in all likelihood ) or she pieced them together throughout the years. take sinnoh into space, create a pseudo-empire before hoenn, and then gatekeep like hell, choosing what info and resources to share with the world and who besides sinnoh gets to go up there. yes, she knows she’s doing her part by helping uphold the cultural status quo, encouraging or pressuring if she has to future generations of sinnohans to continue shooting for the stars ( at the very least figuratively but in some cases literally ), even if people and their pokemon keep getting injured or killed on the way there, trying to prove themselves. no, she does not know of statesec’s plans to send up an orbital “ defense ” network ( but would she oppose it if she did. “ must save sinnoh forever! ” is her stupid schtick, after all ).

5. i’m time-locking hikari for non-plotted threads, so the space race stays forever at a standstill and space supremacy never gets any closer to happening, both the colonies and the network ( in other words, “ full-fledged antagonist hikari ” is reserved for plotted threads ). i hope some people enjoy having their muses interact with her, even get along or fall in love with her, while blissfully unaware of the crap she’s complicit with and just how far her dedication to her legacy sinnoh can / will go.

honestly, to muses who don’t care about one region dominating space --- who won’t even give a shit about it violating privacy and smiting whoever’s a “ threat to regional security ” off the face of the planet whenever and wherever it pleases --- i guess there’s no antagonist to be found here lol. at least it isn’t another attempt to commit straight-up crimes against humanity, pokemon, and gods, right.

#[ the player on the other side :: ooc. ]

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jodilin65 · 4 years ago

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THURSDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2020 On with my last entry for the year. A year that was shitty for the world in general but ended up working out well for us.

I figured that if we’re going to have to wear a mask for a while longer, I might as well do it in style. So I ordered a light pink mask with rhinestones and a multicolored sequin mask.

Just finished a suspense book by Cole Baxter about a crazy old lady. Now I’m reading a kidnapping mystery by Gillian Jackson.

I guess this is going to be it for the year because there really isn’t anything else to update on.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2020 As our upcoming move gets closer, I get a little more emotional. In a good way, of course. I started packing up some more shit but most of what’s left has to wait until the very end since we still have to live our lives while we’re here.

Soon enough we’ll be one of those annoying planes flying over this place. They’ve been an on-and-off thing as usual. For three days they were annoying as fuck but I haven’t heard them today. Just some small planes.

We talked some more and we’re very likely to start off in the middle of the state where the space rent is cheaper. The place will probably be kind of dumpy and might not even have a pool but this way we have a chance to get grounded, get a feel for the place, how the climate affects me, and then decide whether or not to head for the coast or get some land. It would be nice to have another park to compare this one to even though I’m guessing some things will be the same such as loud vehicles and power tools. Hopefully, we won’t hear it as much if we can get into a smaller park on a less-traveled street.

My chocolate chip cookie incense smells great. It’s mild but definitely great smelling.

My book was not pirated. I forgot that when I joined Smashwords nearly a decade ago they were affiliated with Scribd. I also forgot that I had two different Smashwords accounts. I was confused as hell when I logged into one of the accounts and found that nothing was published there. I had Renting Ginny published for a while but removed it because I barely made a few bucks after a long time. Turns out the account Evil was on was under an email address I no longer have. But I finally got ahold of someone on both sites and someone on Smashwords told me they contacted Scribd with a removal request. So hopefully they will honor that request! If not, then I guess the story will just sit there.

I’m glad I used my middle name when I made the mistake of publishing stuff since I don’t think most people would think to Google me with my middle name included. When I Google my first and last name, nothing comes up. It’s only when I Google my full name that links to Goodreads and anything connected to my book comes up. I’m going to put myself on as much of an “internet lockdown” as I can during the move in case anyone we may get a place from decides to Google me and might not like what they find. I don’t know what might come up with a paid search but I wouldn’t think anybody would be that curious so I’m not worried about it.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2020 It just occurred to me that I didn’t hear from Scribd yesterday. It could be due to the holidays, but I really doubt I’m going to hear back from them. The question is whether or not to take some other course of action or just let it go. I’ll probably just let it go since whoever/whatever is behind it can’t be making any more money than I did and that certainly wasn’t much. It’s just that it reminds me of how I’ve always felt that I’m not only not meant to make money but meant to be a profit to others. Oh well. Still can’t be much of a profit. If it isn’t a screw-up between sites and if it isn’t a random person, funny how the black bitch in Arizona is the first person to come to mind where that’s concerned. But would she be that sophisticated enough to pull it off? Would she be that stupid? Perhaps out of anger and the frustration of not being able to legally screw me again like she tried to do 9 years ago, she would. Don’t know if she would have come up with the idea on her own or set it up on her own, though, if she did have anything to do with it. But I’m sure she would get a real kick out of the thought of making whatever she could off of me at my expense.

I read online that applying ACV to AKs was recommended so I’m trying it on what I suspect is Bowen’s. Doubt it will do me any good, but it can’t hurt to try.

I was going to work on all three stories at once and then edit them when I was out of ideas but that’s easier said than done so I’ll finish the story I started last month before I tackle the others.

Guess I’ve gone from writing suspense that deals with obsession to suspense that deals with revenge! Let’s just say it can be kind of therapeutic depending on who the characters are. :-)

Some of them have been showing up in my dreams, like Termite Tammy. I killed her by kicking her really hard in the head only her blood ran dirt brown instead of red. I panicked soon afterward, realizing my fingerprints and other trace evidence would likely be found.

I left a message on Ruth’s wall yesterday. As in Marty’s wife. Her last update was in 2018 and I realize she could be dead since she would be in her 80s now. I looked and couldn’t find a grave or an obit on Marty, so if there isn’t one on him, there may not be one on her. Right or wrong, I acted as if she messaged me trying to apologize and work things out and I told her she had decades to do that, gossips too much, judges people by their past, was too judgmental, and that while I wish her the best it was too late.

I guess it was a convenient way to express how I felt albeit a bit of a dishonest one. I’m curious to see if anyone ever discovers it but I have a feeling they won’t. I guess the account has been abandoned. But maybe not. There are no visible posts between 2015 and 2018. So maybe she’s just taking a little hiatus.

When I got up, I found a message waiting for me from Becky. She decided to look for Mary Bernadette S from Valleyhead who went by Bernadette. She found the nearly 6 ft black woman in the form of an obituary from 2016. She died at age 48 and Becky is devastated. I guess they were closer than I realized. Bernadette and I weren’t close although we were enemies either.

So she died just in time to spare herself from the hell called perimenopause. But WHY??? I hate that most obits don’t tell you how a person died.

The Termite Tammy dream wasn’t the only dream I had last night. It seems that many people from my past came marching in one by one. Lots of Andy dreams lately, although I’m not sure why. I do miss him at times, but I could never resume our friendship. He is who he is, and I am who I am. Besides, it’s become a hard rule of mine not to do do-overs. You step out of my life or I put you out of it, you stay out of it.

Anyway, I don’t remember what he, Nane or Maliheh did in my dreams but I remember Molly even though it didn’t make much sense. She pointed to a bright orange-pink fleece blanket and said, “Isn’t that your blanket?”

I glanced over to where she was pointing and I was relieved to see that it was. I guess I lost some things or was worried someone had stolen them. I also had a feeling that Molly was hiding something and not being totally honest with me, but just like in real life, I kept my suspicions to myself preferring not to let people know that I know, am aware of, and notice more things than they realize.

Next, I offered her some old dolls I didn’t want, hoping she would take them off my hands. She did and I hugged her more because I was grateful for her making things easier on me than anything else. Her shoulders felt slender as we embraced.

Then there was something about me being chased by a dog, threatening its owner, and someone who was universally hated winning tons of money. Then Tom and I were seated at a long dining table with about a dozen other people in the room. He surprised me by defending me to them, saying that the person who won money was accused of doing the same thing I had to spend 24 hours in jail for.

“I had to spend a lot more than that,” I snorted.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2020 Sometimes I feel just as pissed or at least irritated with myself as I do with those that have given me a hard time in one way or another throughout my life. I just feel like I could have done more to prevent it, like I should have seen the warning signs, not been so nice… That sort of thing. So it’s like I blame them for screwing me and then I blame myself for how I handled them. But what’s done is done and oh how I have learned from it!

Once again Aly is saying that I, perhaps unknowingly or unintentionally, make her feel put in the middle when I bring up Kim or Molly and that’s why she’s been holding back on things she could tell me about them. Expressing my opinion doesn’t mean I’m trying to put anyone in the middle or persuade someone to go in a particular direction, but fine. She never has to discuss anything she doesn’t want to.

But how does she think I feel over the fact that she won’t give me her address, I’ve never seen a picture of her with Cam, and I don’t even know the guy’s last name? It’s hard for me to believe this is simply about her having doubts as to whether or not the relationship will last. She’s hiding something. She’s either afraid I’ll use the info against her somehow should I get pissed at her or Cam doesn’t exist.

I’m starting to feel like she’s complaining about me a little more lately and like I’m just not good enough in some ways even though she recently told me she always values our friendship. But first it was what I said in regard to Cam losing his cat, then she tweeted on her other account that I butt in unnecessarily, and a few other little things that are starting to add up and get to me. Is she trying to pick a fight with me or something? Well, I don’t “fight” anymore. I either get along with people or I don’t have anything to do with them. The only ones that will eventually hear from me one last time are the termites. I mean, of course I would contact more than just them if Tom died suddenly and unexpectedly and I was about to kill myself but I don’t bother to troll or fight with people like I used to.

Anyway, I told her she never has to bring up anything she doesn’t want to even though I would never insist she hold back on anything and I won’t bring up as much either. The less open someone is with me, the less I’m open with them. Not by design but I naturally can’t help but be more open if someone’s open with me and less open if someone’s not so open with me. It’s just how I am and a natural instinct of mine. In the end, Kim and Molly (I know she’s not done with Molly forever) are her friends so it’s not like I’m dying to hear about them.

I discovered something by accident as is how I usually find things be it objects or information. While I still think the smaller spot on my leg is the actinic keratosis (AK) I had on my arm and back, the big red patch may very well be Bowen’s disease. The good news is that even though it’s considered pre-invasive it seems just as treatable as AK and just as unlikely to invade deeper tissues of the skin and spread to other parts of the body. Doesn’t seem like anything that can’t wait until my April appointment. I just hope she can spray it with liquid nitrogen as she did with the AKs. Sometimes they have to scrape the skin.

I missed my wine after taking a break from it and just wanted to get out and also get a sweet treat, so we masked up and headed to Rite Aid yesterday morning. Armed with Moscato and a Milky Way bar, Tom suggested checking out the Christmas aisle before we left where everything was on clearance, and we found a couple of cute things for just $2.50 each. A color-changing glitter lamp that sort of reminds one of a lava lamp. The glitter is in a watery gel so that it stays afloat longer when you shake it.

Also got a cute doll called Emily with auburn braids and brown eyes. She wears pink and purple, my favorite colors.

The Mac was sluggish and I was having trouble clicking and dragging puzzle pieces during my puzzle walks, as I call them, so he upgraded it to Big Sur.

As we agree, zone minutes are more important than step counts and active minutes so I’m making sure to get those. That’s usually simple enough as long as I’m not tired. In fact, I usually get more than the daily recommendation.

As funny as this may sound, the quantity of my food intake seems to matter more than calories or what I eat. I rarely bother to count calories but I definitely pay attention to what I eat now that I’m getting older and make sure that 5-6 days a week I eat healthily. But it’s true that quantity really does seem to matter most for me. I think I would be more likely to gain weight on larger servings of fish and veggies than I would on just a few bites of high-calorie crap.

As 2021 approaches, we chatted excitedly about the possibilities that await us next year like how we’re going to go out of here and a big part of it is going to depend on who the house goes to. If we knew in advance exactly when we had to be out of here, it would be easier to get plane tickets and also control where we sit on the plane. But if we have to go about things the traditional way and deal with the escrow and not know exactly what’s closing when and what we need to sign when until the last minute, then it might be too expensive to fly since we couldn’t get the tickets in advance.

Time will tell if my vibes and dreams mean anything but despite having a pretty good accuracy rate, I have to assume they’re just dreams and guesses until and if I see otherwise.

I doubt the dream I had last night meant anything since I would never want to live on a beach. Close to a body of water, yes, but not on the beach. Yet in the dream, we had a circular bedroom that was mostly surrounded by a popular beach and I wondered how I would sleep during the winter when all the snowbirds crowded the beach right outside the wall of the bedroom. I then remembered our soundproofing plans and hoped they would work out!

The only other dream I remember was going to a male doctor that turned out to be a joke for some reason. So I went back to a doctor I was familiar with who told me my OH was causing my eyes to bulge at the sides and a little in front too. I asked her if my eyes could possibly pop out of my head and she had this dubious expression as if to say that yeah, they could. LOL

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2020 Only I could gain a pound on a diet but then again I didn’t exactly “diet” yesterday. I had a little more than usual plus a candy bar. Also, I crashed early and got up earlier than yesterday. Nothing I didn’t expect to happen, though. I knew my body would go into reset mode no matter what I did. Besides, if this was that easy, everyone would be doing it. It takes a lot of hunger and deprivation to lose weight which is why most people don’t. But I’m going to continue eating three full meals a day because it agrees with my tummy and keeps me from getting carried away. Been having a bit more processed stuff than I should too, so I’ll have to cut that back a bit. Really don’t want to have more than one processed meal a day.

Tom checked out the site with the funny name and took a look at the code behind it. It isn’t that they have an actual copy of my book but it’s used as bait along with many other things. It’s a phishing site. All they want is credit card info. They promise full access to various things if you pay a fee.

On Scribd, he found where I could file a copyright infringement complaint, so I did. I doubt it’s anyone I know and may not even be a person at all. I once had this book on Smashwords and there might have been a screw-up between the different sites. Because the cover is the original cover and the bio is old, whatever it is happened nearly a decade ago. I don’t know many people with the sophistication to pull something like this off other than Aly and I can’t believe she would do this to anyone no matter how pissed she may be at them. It just doesn’t seem her style. The termites, yes, if they had brains enough to pull it off which they don’t.

I’ve learned my lesson as far as publishing anything goes. If I could have made at least 10 bucks a day, it would have been worth whatever shit came of it but it’s not all bad because this way I can have fun writing just for me and not have to worry about using real names and changing this and changing that.

The other day, as I was lying in bed waiting for sleep, Shadow popped into mind again and I was racked with a sense of guilt and sadness over having to dump him as I did 28 years ago. I asked myself why the hell Andy and I weren’t smart enough to think of a shelter but then no-kill shelters didn’t exactly exist back then. But then maybe it would have been better to be put to sleep if he was only destined to get hit by a car or something like that. Technically, this would probably be a better way for any animal or human to go as opposed to dying of natural causes but we could never and would never bring the pigs to a kill shelter.

I’ve always wondered what became of him. I read that cats lose heat through their paws and can handle heat better than cold as long as they have shade, food and water. He could have gotten the shade somewhere but where would he have gotten food and water? He would have had to drink out of people’s pools and while they were plentiful, so were big dogs that were always left outside.

But still, I wonder. Did Animal Control pick him up and kill him? Did he get hit by a car? Did he get fed by various people every now and then? Or did someone adopt him? I really hope to hell the last possibility happened! I was reading back in my 1992 journal, and I forgot that we didn’t just drop him off in Paradise Valley but also threw his carrier over the wall of someone’s backyard that we thought may have been Stevie Nicks’ at the time. Don’t know if it really was or not, though.

Even though I was young, dumb, broke, naive and threatened with eviction if I didn’t get rid of Shadow and was just doing what I needed to survive, I felt heartbroken and I could definitely throttle Stacey. I know she was sticking to the rules she had to abide by but still, rules can be bent. You don’t have to break them but you could bend them and she definitely could have worked with me somehow to get into a “pet” apartment and pay the deposit. I also wish I’d been smart enough back then to think of contacting her boss.

Tom says there was nothing I could do about it, I can’t undo the past, so I shouldn’t beat myself up for it and that more than likely he was adopted. If not, people do feed strays. We’ve done it ourselves.

But I also realized that had I been able to keep him, he likely would have lived past 1997 when I quit smoking and I would be left to wonder why I never got better since I didn’t know that cats made me wheeze and congested until we got Simone.

I have hoped that there really is no such thing as an afterlife because a before life is enough. For a minute, though, I almost wished there was so I could tell him how sorry I am for being such a shit of a cat mommy as I was during his first two years of life. Yes, he could be plenty obnoxious at times but he was otherwise quite affectionate and lovable, and yet I treated him like shit at times and then dumped him like he was trash.

I hope to hell that when he was dying which was probably somewhere between 2005-2010 that the giant orange tabby I adored was put to sleep and didn’t die outdoors alone.

Speaking of that bitch Stacey, another story idea came to mind. Tom and I move but we return to Arizona of all places. And of all the millions of people living in Phoenix, we happen to end up next to Stacey and her husband. I spot her one day and recognize her so Tom and I agree I would go by a different first name and say I was from Ohio.

I get a piece of her mail one day and am curious to see if she recognizes me when I go to return it. She does but of course I always deny my true identity. Then I can play these little games with her until one day she actually invites me over for coffee and I pass out only to wake up realizing she drugged me and has locked me in a room. I’m held captive there while she tries to force the truth out of me. Eventually, Tom will come to my rescue!

So between the story I’ve been working on, this idea, and the revenge on the termite idea, I guess I’m not completely retired as a writer after all. For a while there I thought I would never come up with anything worth putting into print ever again.

Oh yes, the lady of suspense is going to have all kinds of unfiltered and uncensored fun using real names. I just hope we don’t get “karma’d” for our evil thoughts, haha.

Strange how I once couldn’t help but have a slight crush on Stacey even though she was a blue-eyed blond. Something about her voice, physique and mannerisms reminded me of Kate Jackson. I once told her that too, LOL. I’d be a total liar if I said she didn’t age well but I hate her fucking guts.

I usually write one story at a time and will write a chapter and then edit it, but I think I’ll just work on the stories and then edit them when I hit writer’s block which I still think will be most of the time.

“Did something happen to the saw dude or did someone complain about him?” I asked Tom and he thinks neither and that he simply finished his home renovation project.

Well, I hope so because I’m definitely enjoying not hearing that fucking saw! In a lawless land, I would have gone over there, yanked it out of his hand, and chased him around the park with it.

“What happened to the loud car kid?” I also asked him and he thinks the kid outgrew that phase of his life.

That young and that fast? I don’t know about that one. I think he’s either dead, in jail, or more than likely moved out of the area.

Aly says Molly totally believes in her mind that she and I never had a problem. Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. The mentally ill are often delusional. Also, I remember how she used to act like she and Kathy were best buddies having only last spoken recently when in fact it had been months or maybe even years.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2020 I wasn’t kidding when I recently told Aly that it was a nice breath of fresh air to have a friend who was younger and smarter instead of the other way around as it usually was with other friends I’ve had.

Never heard of a torrent site before and when she told me she suspects my book was pirated, it made sense when I thought about it. If they steal music and movies, why not books too? I contacted one of the sites it’s on which is affiliated with NaNoWriMo as well as NaNoWriMo itself. I highly doubt it will do me any good, but I explained the situation to them about me and publishing it about a year ago and never agreeing to sell on Scribd. Plus there’s another site with a weird name that I know of, but I can’t click on any of the tabs and I wasn’t about to click on the download button without knowing if that could trigger some kind of attack.

It’s kind of weird how the pirated copy has the original cover and bio. Had to join Scribd to try to contact them but both them and NaNoWriMo don’t make it easy to contact them. I tried on Facebook and they gave me the automated run around so I finally tweeted to them. Again, I don’t expect a response let alone removal of the book where I left a comment saying who I was and that the book was pirated. You couldn’t comment without a rating so of course I gave myself 5 stars, LOL.

There’s no price set on my book, I noticed. Guess you get full access to it (and other books) with a paid membership? Would love to know when it was listed and if it’s anyone I know, though I doubt it.

The good thing is that if I didn’t make shit from the book, I don’t see why they would. I guess it happens to big-name authors as well. Either way, I highly doubt I’m going to be able to get it removed. It’s not worth putting any more effort into fighting it than I already did since it’s not like they’re going to really profit from it.

I went and unpublished We’ll Meet Again Someday which I had under a pen name just in case the same thing happened to that book even though I haven’t made a single sale or download in many months from that book. So if there are any more of my books out there, at least they won’t make more than a few bucks here and there. Others can feel free to do as they wish, but publishing just isn’t worth it to me.

I was glad to hear that her BF is going to get the vaccine in a few weeks. I know they’ve wanted to target health workers and old people first.

She got her dad the massager I got that I recommended to her and he really likes it. It is a good one!

Tom and I have noticed that my waist appears thinner lately. This is due to increased strength training and aerobics-like exercise. My “crunch line” is also more visible. That groove that runs from the sternum almost down to the belly button.

What worries me a little is that the spots on my leg aren’t growing in size but the larger one is darkening on the edges and is slightly raised. I just hope waiting until April doesn’t turn out to be a dumb idea that causes a whole lot more money and headaches later on down the road, but I’m not going to go running to the doctor for every little thing either. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a few AKs on my scalp as well from what I can feel. Luckily, only 10% of them become cancerous.

I’m a little tired today because I was up forever like I sometimes am even though I managed to take care of the dishes and laundry and change Fuzzy’s cage. My God does that poor guy look horrible! I think he has more than one tumor too but with the way he acts and eats you would never know it so that’s good. Even if he didn’t have them, though, his days are still numbered because he’s now over two years old.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2020 My poor little ratty. :( Looks like the tumor has caused ruptured blood vessels. Yet amazingly, he still has plenty of energy and the same old appetite. He doesn’t seem to be in the least bit of pain, fortunately. He can’t have too many more months to go, though. It’s sad but an inevitable course of nature at the same time.

I’m really frustrated, irritated and confused right now after getting a Google alert on my name. I got an alert for a site where a copy of Evil Amongst the Evergreens is supposedly available. Nothing was clickable on the site, though, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out why the hell a book I unpublished is listed there. I also don’t like how you can get a lengthy preview, and then if you sign up for a free trial, you can read all of it for free.

What’s the point of unpublishing something if people can still get copies on sites I never heard of much less published my book on, and with absolutely no payment to me?

I never should have published anything, especially in my own name. That was really stupid! Not only are you giving potential trolls the perfect opportunity to fuck with you, but I should have known it wouldn’t be enough money to make it worth it. Better to just write for fun and that way I don’t have to worry as much about being as correct as possible.

This is turning out to be the most doable diet I’ve done in centuries. Not going so low-calorie keeps me from always being hungry. Not going low-carb keeps me from craving variety. Not spacing out multiple smaller snacks and meals also keeps me from being hungry. But it being doable is part of why I won’t get under that typical low of about 155. I’d have to be sick, thyrotoxic, or half-starving to lose more than a few pounds. No thanks! I like the way I feel on this menu and the fact that I definitely don’t have to worry about gaining weight.

The holidays are really throwing things off and disrupting our routine. Holidays were fine when he was working because then he got to enjoy the time off. Now all they do is mess things up. At least they’re minor inconveniences but because Walmart was out of some things, particularly lettuce which the pigs are low on, we tried to arrange to pick up an order at Sam’s yesterday morning. However, the earliest we could do this would be Saturday. So then we tried Amazon’s Whole Foods and were told the same thing along with another Walmart order we placed. So both Amazon and Walmart will be delivered within a few hours of each other that day. Tom was surprised to find how much cheaper than Walmart many of the prices on Amazon were, expecting it to be much more expensive. So we thought we would go ahead and give them a try.

I was looking forward to trying Sam’s lobster naan but I don’t think we’re going to be ordering from them. Walmart doesn’t have it but Amazon has Spanakopita which I like. I just don’t want to get too carried away with processed foods. Just because I’m having three larger meals with absolutely nothing in between doesn’t mean I want to load up on too much unhealthy stuff. Still gotta watch the cholesterol and sodium.

Over the last few days, I went from 157.8 to 157.4 to 157.0, and then yesterday I was 156.6 just like I am today. This is about when my body starts rebelling against additional weight loss, too. One way it rebels is to stop shitting but I’m having potatoes today so that should help.

Decided that rather than focus on step count or active minutes, I’ll focus on getting the 22 zone minutes they recommend getting a day. Not hard for someone with a high HR.

The planes didn’t go as crazy as I expected them to yesterday. Still expecting the death count to jump quite a bit after Christmas. I can’t wait to get to January! By then Trump will be out of the picture, we should be getting closer to getting vaccinated, and it’s the year we get the fuck out of here!

Dixie forwarded me (and a few others) a joke. So she’s still alive. Sometimes I think of emailing her. I do miss her and I do think of her but I also have to think of myself as well. I don’t want to deal with her drama and moods and put myself at risk of getting sick. She’s still around more people than we are. Unless it’s someone living alone with agoraphobia, I doubt anybody is as isolated as we’ve been. I’ll definitely email her before we leave.

In looking around at things and mentally deciding what we’re likely to leave and likely to take, I realized that the platform with the attached headboard shelves my mattress is on is our longest-running piece of furniture. We got it in Oregon 15 or 16 years ago.

Aly says Molly will no doubt eventually find a way to contact her, even if it’s through someone on Fitbit.

Ah, but will she be smart enough to ignore her? I still believe that Aly has a tendency to gravitate toward the mentally ill as Mary G gravitated toward abusers.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2020 I skipped yesterday’s meds as I mentioned before, and although I was better, I wasn’t 100%, so I was a little nervous about taking my meds today. I did, however, and I feel fine so far. Figured I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year without a problem, though.

At the beginning of my day today, I had that strange and disturbing feeling that could have been my heart A-fibbing, gas bubbles in my chest, or something else. I looked up the causes and found that they range from mild to severe. At least I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out or experience any other symptoms with it. I can see where it might be air bubbles since it did seem like it was something fluttering upward and reverberating in my throat. However, it was entirely different than heartburn or any kind of stomach or intestinal gas issues I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know what to think. I just hope it doesn’t make a regular habit of occurring, whatever it is.

It hit me that it’s silly to count calories independently of Fitbit. I can still have Fitbit do it. I just have to make sure that everything I eat during my day is logged on the same date. But I can still have it do the math for me. It isn’t just about calories but this way I can also see how much sodium and carbs I’m taking in as well.

I realize that with the exception of whatever we get for the house, we’ll probably be back to the days of being broke once we get to Florida because even though it’s cheaper there, we’re not going to have as much money. That’s okay, though. I don’t mind not having extra money as long as we’re still able to get the things we need. But I know he’ll want to work at least part-time to help with extras until he’s able to get full retirement and not just partial. Plus, I’ll get half of what he gets when I’m 65 even though that’s still worlds away.

Actually, Tom just told me not to panic over what I may read on Twitter or Facebook, saying that Trump is being crazy again and something about people being evicted and losing their Unemployment if he doesn’t sign a particular thing. He assured me that our retirement money is not only guaranteed for life, but he would also only work in the future for extras like if we wanted to go on a cruise. Also, our Unemployment is fine, so don’t worry about what I may read.

This is reassuring to know but I feel bad for those less fortunate than us. Only someone as rich as Trump would do such a thing, assuming everybody can afford to pay for their needs just because he can and has never known anything else. I almost wish all rich people could start off broke so they could know what it’s like and see that no, we’re not all the same. We can’t all make do with next to nothing.

It seems, however, we’re having the opposite luck than what we experienced when the economy went to hell. The collapse of the economy hurt us in just about every possible way that it could. We suffered big time and almost lost our lives because of it. However, the virus has seemed to actually help us. Oh, it wouldn’t be this way if he was under 62, though, that’s for sure! So if this shit had to happen in the first place, I’m definitely grateful for the timing. And that he was able to make so much money in his final working years, especially from the OT with the way it works in Cali. Making enough OT to live off of that alone is a big deal when it comes to retirement, but yeah, he was making around $30 an hour in the end there at certain times. Of course the new company owners would lay him off. That way they could turn around and hire someone at minimum wage. In the end, I sure as hell am glad they did lay him off because of the virus! Again, that was perfect timing and I had the opposite reaction when he broke the news to me than I had in 2011. Had he been just a little younger, we could have been really screwed. Same goes for if they hadn’t laid him off but just in a different way. But then I always did say that the noisier a place was, the harder it would be to lose. Well, Jesse and his mutts definitely weren’t this noisy. No place I ever lived was this noisy.

Either way, we’ve been spared from this latest world crisis. I don’t know if it’s because of any God, some other entity, or just because. I only know I’m grateful as hell.

Just went to get my Bing points and I wasn’t at all surprised to read a headline saying that despite pleas from health experts, people are ready to travel for the holidays and spread the virus so the daily deaths can become 5K instead of 3K. And of course I’ll be wide awake to listen to all the planes there will no doubt be flying overhead early this morning.

Tom said there were a lot of cars at Dahl’s place today. Everybody thinks they’re invincible.

One of the brands of nail stickers I got was Blulu and they kind of suck. They’re not sticky enough. Also, the pink plaid set looks more like flesh tone in person. So I took them off and applied a pinkish-red set with gold highlights by a better brand. They’re a little light and a little sheer but definitely have better sticking power.

Decided I’m not going to keep changing accounts every month on OD so I can keep writing there. It’s just not worth the hassle. When it comes to sharing, PB is enough.

Aly says she’s finally blocked Molly and is done with her because she’s gone Kim on her by being very selfish and bombarding her with tons of texts all about how miserable her life supposedly is. And this is after Molly deleted her on Fitbit. She says it’s hard to explain but she still has some compassion for Kim.

I would definitely rather associate with Kim than Molly any day. I remember when I was pretending to be someone else and connected with her on Twitter how she almost never responded to my tweets. It was only if I made the move first by responding to her tweets that she would talk to me. Molly is definitely very selfish and obsessive. Kim is obsessive too, though.

Once Molly realizes Aly’s done with her, I wonder if she’ll stalk her like it’s 2009 again. Or if she’ll try to seek me out to get to her through me. My guess is she won’t, though, because we don’t always react the same when something happens again. Besides, I don’t think she can find me anywhere other than looking me up on Facebook and that’s only if she remembers my last name.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2020 I’m now tracking calories independently of Fitbit. Because my days are split so often, I’m not getting an accurate count. The same goes for steps. However, I’m not really concerned with steps as long as I get the recommended daily zone minutes each day. I’m keeping track in Google Docs and having Tom double-check my math.

So far it seems easier to have fewer bigger meals. I made vegetable tortellini yesterday and it came out great. I would really like to get an idea of my daily calorie intake at least for a week or two because I’m curious to see how, if at all, this new way of eating affects me. My guess is that it won’t cause weight loss but will make it harder to gain. It comes out to approximately 1,200 calories a day.

I noticed my metabolism has sped up a bit but that’s likely for the same reason I felt a little anxious last night; my meds are ramping up in my system. I skipped today and it will be interesting to see if taking action right away means I won’t have to skip as much later on. If I could get it down to one skip per month, that would be ideal. That may be just a dream, but we’ll see. But to have a total of a little over a month’s worth of anxious days for 2020 is a definite improvement!

Now I just wish he would stop looking for work! When he talked about the job applications he’s been filling out, I reminded him that they said he didn’t have to look for work for many weeks but he says he doesn’t trust them. Yeah, the government is definitely not very trustworthy, that’s for sure. But we have a lot of money and I hate to see him work before he’s vaccinated. I would be concerned if he was young but I’m even more concerned with him being 63. He doesn’t actually want a job right now but still thinks it’s best to at least put some effort into it. Besides, not everyone wants an older white guy working for them not to mention the fact that sometimes he’s either under or overqualified. Some jobs have requirements he’s unable to or unwilling to meet like traveling.

The pigs started to get a little smelly so we changed their liners. Rockefeller’s wasn’t that soiled but Blitz’s was. We’ll probably only be changing them about six more times before they’re rehomed and I definitely want to use up the paper bedding first. I would rather have liners left over than regular bedding.

Fuzzy sleeps more but still has energy and definitely his usual appetite. He could live another three or four months but one rat is a lot easier to deal with than two pigs.

I remember a split second of a dream where I was in someone’s oceanfront house and it was so cool because the part of the walls that face the ocean was all glass. Whenever the tide was high, the waves would roll up against the lower part of the glass walls and was totally cool.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2020 They updated our DNA results on 23andMe, narrowing things down. They had him mapped as all over Europe, but they took off southern Europe for him even though he’s from many different places and is still a mutt, LOL. For me, they removed almost all of Europe. I’m 98.9% Ashkenazi instead of 99%. They had a fraction of a percent of me from Asia and Africa which has now been narrowed down to Manchurian & Mongolian. Never heard of Manchurian before.

Going to once again try Fitbit’s easier diet where you have a 250-cal deficit per day and lose half a pound a week. I thought about it and I’m pretty sure I was likely underestimating my food intake or counting wrong or making typos when logging food the last time around. Low thyroid or not, I’m still human and it should have worked, especially if you do it right. So that means I’m the one that screwed up somewhere along the line when inputting info.

For this grocery order, I got a bigger variety of food so I’m not stuck with just meat and veggies and will have fewer bigger meals rather than more smaller ones that don’t fill me up and that leave me feeling hungry until I eat again. I still don’t mind meat and veggies for the most part but this way I can throw in some variety along with it, so I don’t have cravings for different things. So two of my meals will consist of meat, veggies, and a small portion of starch of some kind like rice, pasta, or potatoes. My other one will consist of chickpeas, beans or soup. I’ll have a small kiddy yogurt when I take my statin to keep from getting an upset stomach. Plus there’s my morning coffee. Or whatever time of day or night I happen to get up.

At 6:30 I had two roasted chicken thighs and a cup of macaroni and cheese. I didn’t have any veggies with that particular meal, but I will with my next one which will be at 11:30. I’m spacing my meals out by 5 hours. It’s been 2 hours and I still feel satisfied. If I’d grabbed just a smoothie or just an avocado, I would probably be getting hungry again by now.

Reading that there are new strains of the coronavirus discovered wasn’t exactly a thrilling thing to learn. Hope it’s nothing that the vaccine still can’t handle!

I slept for an average of 7 hours and 43 minutes last week. The week before that it was 8 hours and 11 minutes and the week before that was 7 hours and 32 minutes. Most weeks seem to be 7 hours and something minutes, but I did have a week that was 6 hours and 34 minutes.

Had a dream that I had to stay somewhere but I don’t think it was any kind of jail or hospital since I was packed into a car with several other people heading somewhere. In the dream, I realized that I had counted wrong and I didn’t really have to be there for four thousand and something more days but actually six thousand and something more days. Even though this only equated to almost a year in the dream, I was deeply depressed by this realization.

Aly’s back to updating her other Twitter account but not very often. Damn, I wish I’d never reached out to Molly!

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2020 Went through the hutch drawers earlier and found more stuff I’d forgotten about. Some old family pictures neither of us give a shit about but agreed to keep, along with cards and letters from various people. I forgot that Marie once wrote to me. I’ve got some cards from Eileen, Aly, Rosa, my dear deceased Italian foster dad, and even a couple of postcards from Nane. I forgot that she actually sent me two postcards, one from Greece and one from Turkey. She sent one to Auburn and one here to “Zitronen Land.”

I read the German part to Tom as we were going through things and decided that even though we’re not friends anymore, I would keep the postcards. Some people I definitely regret knowing and some I don’t. Nane was fun and interesting for a while before her judgmental ways and bitchiness really got to me. Also, as ugly as German is, I sure did end up learning quite a bit of it, thanks to her.

I made a couple of interesting discoveries that I’m excited about whenever we get settled in the new place. First there was this thing you stuck your finger directly into that printed nail designs directly onto the nail. Those range from $500 to over a grand. I’m not fluent but I could get by if I were suddenly stuck in the middle of Germany, and that’s something to be proud of.

Still not wanting any chemicals on my nails, I looked to see if there was a way to design and print my own nail stickers and there is! It would be a little more expensive, but this way I could choose the exact designs I wanted and not have to worry about them going bad. You can even print family photos or pictures of pets!

I’m surprised I was wrong on the stimulus thing and that they’re going to give adults $600. To those who are really in need, $600 seems like such a fucking insult. You can’t even pay a month’s rent on that! What the hell is wrong with this country???

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2020 Wish they’d shut up already with the stimulus talk. We know we’re not getting shit, they know we’re not getting shit, so enough is enough with the bullshit promises! The American government simply doesn’t take care of its own. Never has, never will.

Decided to do some more sorting and packing. I went through the stuff in the hutch cabinets and tomorrow I’ll do the drawers. You don’t realize how much shit you have until it comes time to go through it and start packing it up! Things I totally forgot we had.

It’s still too soon to really judge the pig liners but these guys really frustrate me at times. Especially Blitz. Rockefeller hasn’t chewed on the liner, but Blitz has chewed his. Next time I may put down a bit of bedding on top of the liners and also hook the corners to the side of the cage beforehand. I hooked part of Blitz’s liner a little while ago, so we’ll just have to wait and see.

Tom applied for a few jobs just in case they tell him to start working again. God, I hope not! Not until this damn thing is under control and we’re vaccinated. But that’s the thing. Out of the things I have strong vibes on right now, his working in this state ever again is not one of them.

Had a bunch of strange dreams last night, one in which Aly and I met somewhere, and she told me my bad ear was ugly, LOL. Not something I can picture her telling anyone. I wasn’t offended, though, in the dream because I appreciated her honesty and agreed as well.

Then I had some weird dream about hiding from someone in a dark building where I rented a room or apartment of some kind. Someone was after me or the person who lived in the place before me, so I turned off all the lights and hid in the bathroom. The bathroom had two doors on opposite ends, so I quickly locked them just in time for a young woman to be shouting angrily and punching the door.

Then, after being glad I had backed my writing up, I realized I couldn’t find the story I was working on and that the backup had failed. I ran into Stacey from Arizona in a corridor somewhere and asked her if she could find my story. LOL

In another dream, I was finishing up a visit with Dr. A only instead of us leaving the exam room together, she remained seated at the computer after I rose to my feet and said “Bye” and proceeded to leave the room and she said “Bye” too.

Next, I was writing my parents a letter telling them I really like being in a liberal state where a guy could walk into a bar dressed in drag with no questions asked or something to that effect. While I was at it, I was listening to a song that was supposedly written right after gays and lesbians first got their rights and the lyrics said something like, “It was supposed to be a trial run, but 33 days later we still have our rights.”

In the last dream, I walked up to the front door of our place, and instead of the street being laid out like it really is, the saw cock was off to one side and Jesse actually lived on the other. As I approached the door, I could hear Jesse sawing away at something and was glad we would be moving soon.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2020 I am surprisingly awake today even though I did take a quick nap which I love to do when I can. The recycle truck hadn’t come by the time I got up, but the garbage truck did and amazingly, they never woke me up.

What did wake me up - unless I woke up and then smelled it - was what I could have sworn was Tom cooking something with a really strong smell. I told myself I was going to let him have it for that since he knows better. I’m not only the lightest sleeper when it comes to sounds but also when it comes to smells, so he makes a habit of not eating anything smelly when I’m sleeping. However, he was sound asleep the first time I was aware of it. It almost smelled like fast food. I also smelled it a few hours later. I doubt anyone else’s cooking would penetrate these walls as thin as they are, so I don’t know what it was. I mean even if someone was right outside the bedroom window which was closed, of course, eating a cheeseburger, I don’t see how I would smell it in the bedroom. Either way, I still woke up feeling refreshed.

My hip didn’t feel too bad, so we went out for a walk. It was warm in the sunshine, but the breeze was cool. I wore no hoodie over my sweatshirt. It was about 55 degrees. After our walk was when I took a nap.

Tom discovered these bamboo charcoal carbon disposable pee pads for guinea pig cages that we ordered and that arrived today. We place them in their cages and are anxious to see how they work out. It was $20 for eight of them. They’ve got great reviews. Yeah, we would find the best solution for them now that we’re a month or so away from re-homing them. Who knows, though? They could end up being a bust. The fleece liners weren’t as exciting as I thought they would be because the pigs weren’t nearly as clean with them and the liners weren’t as easy to shake out and clean as I hoped they’d be.

If these liners work out, I can give Fuzzy the last fleece liner and we can put the bamboo liners in the pig cage when we go to re-home them.

Rockefeller’s reaction was a little weird at first. Blitz didn’t have any problem with it but Rockefeller’s teeth were chattering and he was making the kind of chatter that signals distress in a guinea pig. We’re thinking maybe he just didn’t like the smell at first but then he quickly started eating and was fine.

Fuzzy’s tumor is starting to grow and he may have more than one, but he’s still able to get around and still eats plenty. He’s just sleeping a lot more.

We got a hydraulic hinge for the meter reader when they open the door to the crawl space. Maybe this will finally get them to stop slamming it like they’re pissed off. We can’t just leave it open because skunks and other animals could get under the house.

I also ordered 100 chocolate chip cookie incense sticks but those won’t be here till the end of the month.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2020 Looks like Aly stopped tweeting on her other account. Yeah, I’m not surprised. She probably set up a new one but I’ll never find it if it’s not connected to Molly. I’m sure she blocked my main account from it, too.

The largest of three spots on my leg now has a slight rise on one edge. Gonna wait until after the new year to decide what to do. Maybe I’ll take a picture of it and send it to Doc A through the portal and get her opinion on it, though she’s likely to tell me to come in. What I don’t like about this is that there are three of them and the largest spot is bigger than the one I had on my back.

I took a more peaceful route on our walk yesterday heading towards the back of the park rather than sticking to the main drags. Joe, the mailman, passed by us and we waved to each other and I said, “Long time no see!”

At some point, after we got back, I felt a little fatigued and lay down in bed figuring I would just close my eyes for a few minutes but ended up napping for almost an hour and a half. I love taking naps, but I remained kind of groggy for the rest of the day after getting up. Even so, I was up pretty late and slept a long time, causing my schedule to jump quite a bit. I slept something like 9 hours and 20 minutes. Slept till noon.

I dreamed of Bob. It was weird because it was like we were chatting like old buddies and even dancing happily together. Then there was some dream about my sheets being all torn and held together with duct tape and being hesitant to ask my parents for money to get new sheets, LOL.

It’s amazing that the house workers let me sleep since Tom said they were tremendously noisy on and off from about 8:30 to lunchtime tossing all the concrete they tore up into a dump truck. I’m both surprised and not surprised. I’m not surprised because they were working on the other side of the house opposite the bedroom but then I’m surprised that the loud vehicles going to and from the place didn’t wake me up. It’s still frustrating because I know this project is going to take weeks…and then there will be something else going on. Been here for over 7 years and I still can’t believe how fucking noisy this place is.

We ran out to Rite Aid using the cloth masks that Covered California sent us. I guess they’re supposed to be better than paper masks. He downloaded an app that will notify him if it’s discovered that anyone was in there at the time we were that ends up diagnosed with the virus.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2020 It still bugs me at times that Aly won’t give me any information about where she lives or share any pics of Cam. We’re not connected on Facebook (even though she said she hates it there anyway), I don’t know her address, there was no such doctor as what’s supposed to be Cam’s ex-SIL, and I’ve never seen a picture of her with any BF. I do have her phone number and I do have her parents’ address but still, her explanation as to why she won’t give me her address doesn’t make sense. Just because she doesn’t think she’ll be there long? But why can’t I see where she is in the meantime for however long she is there? And why would she not tell me exactly where she was on Vinton Street knowing she was about to leave there anyway? The length of time you’re going to live somewhere doesn’t seem like a legit reason to not at least let what’s supposed to be a good friend of yours check you out on Google Maps. Something just doesn’t add up.

But it’s still hard to believe she would make Cam up. To be making him up means she can’t get anybody. But then why would she not be able to get anybody? She prefers men to women and guys are easy. She wouldn’t have to be alone. If you’re a feminine woman looking for another feminine woman that would be different. But her not living anywhere for more than a few months doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to hold back, at least in my opinion.

Maria friended me and I saw that Becky was added as well. Then Becky mentioned being hacked and this made me think Maria was a fake account and that the account was somehow connected to the hacking, so I blocked it. But then Becky assured me it was genuine, and I unblocked Maria and messaged her, letting her know why she was temporarily blocked and asking how she was doing. She’s getting back on her feet after coming out to SoCal and getting screwed by the daughter she gave up for adoption and met for the first time. She found that the daughter was a big-time drug addict and hooker living on skidrow and she threw her out after just a few hours of meeting. Then I guess Maria hooked up with the wrong guy and threw her sobriety away as well as her Section 8 and medical. A little hard to feel sorry for at least some of the things she’s been through since she made her own bed and had to lie in it but I’m glad to know she’s doing better.

So I took the opportunity to ask Becky if Marie was still in New York and that while I loved and missed her, I couldn’t deal with the extreme mood swings, accusatory behavior, and paranoia.

She said she never experienced that with her but that she seemed warmer on some days and cooler and others just like anyone else. Yeah, but they never had the kind of relationship we did so I’m sure that’s a big part of it.

Becky says she creates new accounts after each failed relationship. Well, she must not have been in one for a while unless she’s using the same name for each account, which is never her real name, to create new accounts with.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2020 What the hell was that that my heart did this morning shortly after I got up??? As I was sitting there, I experienced what I’m guessing might have been A-fib but I’m not a hundred percent sure. Instead of vibrating quickly, though, my heart felt almost as if it was jumping. It was almost like I could feel it in my throat as well. It lasted 4-5 seconds and during that time I started to get dizzy and almost freaked out because I thought I was going to pass out. It probably wasn’t any big deal and hopefully, it won’t happen again anytime soon.

I took a picture of the red spots on my lower leg that I suspect may be pre-cancerous, so I have something to compare it to along the way between now and when I see my doctor in April.

The daily buzz goes on. The drone of the blowers throughout the park that don’t need to be doing the same spot every single fucking day, individuals having their lots done, the tractor tearing up the concrete where the new house is…I would want to scream or beat my head in the wall or both if I knew we weren’t moving next year! Today was probably the end of being able to sleep without being woken up since the loud traffic has been worse, partly thanks to the house workers.

We went on another noisy yet nice walk and this time for half an hour. I think my hip needs consistency as well as for me not to overdo the working out in order to keep the pain at bay. The problem is that when you’re tired so much of the time, you can’t be consistent. Maybe I could have been 20 years ago but not now.

For a while now I’ve had a vibe about getting breast cancer in my outer left boob, but I don’t think it will be any time soon. I doubt I’ll be under 65 if this really happens. It does run in my family and it is hereditary, so I suppose that I have just as much of a chance of getting that as I do of having a heart attack, stroke, or getting Alzheimer’s which also runs in the family.

It looks like one of the flower trees is blooming in someone’s yard as if it’s all confused by the warmer weather. Things don’t usually start blooming here until early March.

As I’m learning the hard way, nail polish strips have a shelf life. Did some research and it seems to be about a year. This makes sense when I think about it because nail polish in a bottle goes bad after a while, too. So I’m likely to end up with a lot of bad sets of nails and wasted money for hoarding too many at once. From now on I will order just one set at a time and stick with Wokoto since they fit the best and are the cheapest yet still of excellent quality.

It’s so nice to see Tom be able to enjoy his free time after working hard for many decades. So many things he wanted to do that he just didn’t have the time to do, mostly computer and electronics-related, of course. He deserves the break even though he is going to return to work sooner or later. Even though he wants to see about getting in with Amazon and then transferring to Florida, I just don’t “see” him working in Cali ever again.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2020 Woke up with a sore throat though I don’t see how I could possibly be coming down with anything because I’m one of the most isolated people I know. Earlier I had quite a bit of fatigue and was so cold, too. Finally had to really push myself to go out walking. It was a noisy walk too, thanks to all the damn landscaping. Also, they’re working on the new house for God knows how many more weeks. Can’t hear that much inside the house but their trucks coming and going could wake me up.

I realized lately that I haven’t had issues with tardive dyskinesia in quite a while now. It seemed to go on for so many years that I really believed it would never go away. Wish I could say that about my TMJ although it’s better again. I guess oiling my ear did help. The dry conditions really mess it up at times. Hopefully, that means it will be better in Florida. We might actually get rain again in a few days which helps my skin.

But that damn hip of mine is driving me crazy! In light of having more and more joint issues, I realize that I’m going to have to choose between pain and eating when I’m hungry or less pain and more hunger. I may not be “obese” per se, but I’m weighty due to my muscles. Losing muscle wouldn’t be good or easy since it’s natural for me, so in order to lighten the stress on my joints, I’d have to eat less. A LOT less and that would mean going hungry much of the time. Then I’d have to keep it up, for the most part, in order to keep the weight off.

Now, I do handle pain a lot better than I handle hunger. So it may be best to just look at it as I do with my ear. I don’t like it, but I’ve accepted that I’m going to have to live with on-and-off ear/TMJ pain for the rest of my life. Maybe I should have that attitude with the hip pain and continue eating when I’m hungry. After all, millions of others live full lives that are heavier than me. I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2020 Got some rain over the last couple of days and it’s made things so much more peaceful. Still hear a few planes and some loud vehicles but not nearly as much as usual. I hope the rain helps my skin because it’s been horribly dry lately as it’s been like a desert here. After today, who knows how many days it will be or even weeks before we see it again.

Yesterday we rearranged the living and dining areas but decided to leave the projector screen up for a while longer.

Back on the treadmill again and wondering why a brisk 3mph walk has me so winded all of a sudden. Today and yesterday I’ve experienced that suffocating feeling where I’m able to breathe but it’s like there’s no oxygen in the air. It’s weird. I guess I must have fallen that out of shape or something.

Plus, my ear – or TMJ – or whatever the fuck it really is, has been bugging me despite oiling my ear and doing those jaw exercises.

I was going to take today off but since I slept well and have good energy today, I figured I would wait until traffic starts waking me up again and I’m too tired to work out. It was so nice being able to sleep with just Alexa on volume seven last night instead of her on volume eight and the stereo blasting white noise as well.

I was reading a sad and discouraging article about how quiet places are becoming more and more extinct and that yes, the world is getting louder. It isn’t just me imagining it or exaggerating things or being overly sensitive in any way. After reading it, I just can’t help but wonder how far is far enough. I realize that now that our old place in Maricopa is probably just as overrun with loud vehicles and probably even motorcycles, a box fan wouldn’t be enough for me anymore if we were still there. I’d have to get at least 500 feet away from the street these days to drown out all the chaos without blasting the shit out of the sound machines, yet not many places are that far from the street. The only pieces of land big enough that we could afford to move to aren’t in climates I want to be in. I think we’ll be damn lucky if we can get half that far from the neighbor’s dogs, boom stereos, screaming kids, and traffic, but it’s better than just a few feet.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2020 It rained last night, which is great because we not only need it, but the conditions here have been so damn dry that it’s really drying the hell out of my skin. The rain has been keeping the planes quiet this morning as well.

I got a bath bomb and took a bath with it yesterday to help moisturize my skin a bit more but if it helped it wasn’t by much. There was a prize in the coconut-scented center of the large bomb which took forever to completely dissolve. I didn’t have my glasses on so all I could see was something glittery inside a tiny clear plastic bubble. I thought maybe it was earbuds but when I got out of the tub and put my glasses on, I could see that it was a hair tie. I can wear it as a bracelet as well. It’s a nice light turquoise color with what looks like crushed ice crystals on it.

My ear has been dry as hell again too, so I’ve been oiling it every day. At least I went a little longer this time before it started getting to me again.

We got stay-at-home text messages yesterday on our phones. No problem since we’re already homebodies with no place to go anyway. It was exciting seeing headlines about millions of doses of the vaccine about to be distributed throughout the country!

We began removing some of the wall stickers with the heat gun yesterday. We actually started with the pink rat on his bedroom door. We’re going to leave the flowers and butterflies. We’re going to be removing the stripper, mermaid, moon, dancers, and stuff like that.

We decided we’re going to touch up the paint throughout the place but paper the hallway, leaving the forest mural as is.

Getting spam from Sundae isn’t exactly waiting until next year to reach out to me. Kind of annoyed that they took it upon themselves to sign me up for their newsletter but still hoping to get a good deal from them and have a much quicker and easier experience than we would using a traditional real estate agent.

This morning we’re going to rearrange the living room to give it more of a traditional appearance for when they come to look at the place. We’re going to take the projector screen down and put the big screen TV back up. Also gonna drag the couch toward the center of the room. I’ll set the treadmill back up because I’ve been lazing out of cardio too much lately. Sometimes I can’t be that active anyway because I’m too tired but the only way I don’t get bored with walking unless I’m outdoors is to put my old laptop on the treadmill tray and do some puzzles or something while I’m walking. Even listening to music, audiobooks, or watching TV isn’t enough for me. The time simply passes by faster when I do puzzles.

My small pair of scissors with curved blades is getting old and dull so I ordered a new one with rainbow colors like the silverware set we got. I also ordered a three-pack of leggings for a couple of my large dolls. One pair is dark pink, another is pale pink, and another is white with pale pink flowers. The tag inside Jade’s old faded lavender pants said T2 so that’s what I got. The waistband will probably be too big for Mei Lin, but I don’t plan on keeping her anyway.

The coolest part of yesterday was receiving Aly’s gifts. As I told her, with our families being dead, assholes, or both, it meant a lot to me. She sent a beautiful necklace and bracelet she made using my favorite colors. In doing so she gave me a couple of ideas I never thought of before. One is to tie the beads off at both ends before I make the final knot. This would make it so much easier if it slipped out of my hand as I was trying to tie it. That way the beads won’t go flying all over the place and need to be restrung.

Another thing was the wax cord with the claw clasp already attached to it. I was really into magnetic clasps for a while until I realized what a pain in the ass they can be by grabbing other things. Chains would wind themselves around it, so I went back to traditional claw clasps or toggle clasps. What’s cool about these cords which come in a variety of colors from what I saw on Amazon is that you can restring whatever beads you want on them to suit your mood or match the color of your outfit. Never thought of a changing necklace before but that’s a great idea!

So my necklace is on a pink cord with rainbow beads and a really pretty pink crystal cube dangling from the center of it. The necklace says “Lady Rainbow” with pink purple and gold beads mixed in. I will always treasure them!

Plus there was a card, a cute nail file with pink hearts, and vanilla lip gloss.

Anyway, I slept well again. Crashed at about 5 p.m. and got up at 1:30 a.m. to pee and take my meds. I laid back down and figured I would get up in a half-hour and make coffee, but I dozed off for another 90 minutes.

We’re going to be taking care of all the animals today, including moving Fuzzy into the big cage. That cage is a little too big for one bale of bedding, but it would be perfect for him since he’s smaller and doesn’t pee every other minute as guinea pigs do. He’s too fat to get through the bars and doesn’t have the strength to climb much anymore. He still gets around well otherwise and hasn’t lost his appetite yet or anything like that.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2020 Covered California sent us 4 high-quality masks. They’re dull colors with two of them being black and a couple of teal ones but they’re comfortable and adjustable.

I’m completely dumbfounded by all the planes I’m hearing in the morning. People are just so damn stupid and they just don’t get it, do they? Everybody always thinks they’re invincible until something happens to them. Wish I could jump ahead to January, not just so there won’t be as many stupid people flying but so I don’t have to listen to it either. The airlines are just as bad for allowing this to go on, but they’ll do anything to make money and fuck who it affects along the way. If anything, they’re starting earlier and earlier. First it was 5:40, then 5:25, and now it’s 5:05.

Thanks, God. Thanks a fucking lot.

At least I finally got caught up on sleep…for now. I’m sure some attention-hungry fucker will wake me up again soon enough. I went from a sleep score of 80 to 86. I just worry that if there really is something up there cursing my sleep as seems to have been the case all my life, it’s going to get around whatever blocks I set up in the future. I could soundproof, I could get a sleep pod, I could do whatever, and it’s going to see that as defiant and maybe hit me with more nightmares or have me wake up more often just because. I still woke up a few times on my own, once to pee. But I feel much more rested and hope to start removing some of the wall stickers while I’ve got the energy.

The bulk pick-up trash people were late as usual, but someone took the bike.

When I was in the bathroom, I heard a bang. My first thought was that it was someone visiting Virginia but then when I went into Tom’s room, he said it was them reading the meter. So much for him throwing hinges and weather stripping around it. People are just so damn aggressive when it comes to doors for some reason! The schedule predictor says I’ll be asleep for the next reading so as I told him, just pull the damn door out. They can’t slam what isn’t there. That’s not a sound thing but a vibration thing. The thumping jolts the place so it doesn’t matter how loud I have the sound machines going at the time.

Also when I was in the bathroom, I heard buzzing and thought, oh shit. The damn cock across the street is back with the sawing again. But it was the people working on the trim again. I don’t know if they had to fix something they didn’t do right the first time around or do the final touches on it but they weren’t there long, and even though I could hear some of it inside the house, it wasn’t loud. It was fun watching them leave as I was unwinding in bed on our little spy cam. I have the WYZE app loaded on my phone.

They didn’t work on the new house yesterday, but the trailer is still there. I don’t hear much of anything they do inside the house anyway. It’s their damn vehicles that are loud.

I’m seeing chicken breasts in a whole new light. It used to always be my least favorite part of the chicken because I just never thought white meat tasted as good and it tends to be drier. Yet it came out great yesterday in the slow cooker. I just need to make it a little cheesier. So instead of seasoning it and putting it in the cooker with chicken broth in it, I’m doing that but also adding parmesan cheese, additional slices of Swiss cheese, and a slathering of mayo and sour cream over the top of it.

After sharing the link to an entry from my recipe book on PB with Aly, I warned her it was coded and that I would see her on my visitor report. Of course I didn’t, though, and just as I predicted she would, she never told me that no, she wouldn’t show up. This is either because she didn’t click on it or is hiding. I suspect she’s been reading me at times to compare what I send her versus what I share with others out of curiosity but is flying under radar.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2020 Forget about being woken up in the daytime. Now I can’t even sleep at 11 at night! I was sleeping shitty to begin with too, because the purring cat was obnoxious with its choppy, grating, and non-consistent sound. I woke up many times along the way, including to pee, and when I saw it was 9:30, I figured it was safe enough to switch to pink noise. Wrong! At 11 was when a loud vehicle woke me up. It’s really fucking sad and infuriating that the need for attention has to extend into people’s sleep. Really, if you feel you need the attention of just anybody and everybody that bad, see a therapist instead!

This is just ridiculous. Totally fucking ridiculous and I’m going to put the stereo back on. It’s here and it’s set up so I may as well use it in addition to Alexa, but I’m not taking it with us because I refuse to ever again live practically in the middle of the street. I dozed on and off until 2, making a huge jump in my schedule. Now the planes are going crazy.

I wish I knew if we were going to be on one of them when it comes time to leave but that’s going to depend on how well or not so well the virus is contained, along with money. If it weren’t for those things, it would certainly be a hell of a lot less stressful for Tom not to have to drive across the country, and easier on me since I can’t always sleep at night, wake up so easily, and am badly affected by lack of sleep. Plus, it’s safer to fly than to drive when you get the virus out of the picture. I don’t know that we’ll know either way for sure until we know what we’re going to get for the house.

I can see why circadian rhythm disorder seems to worsen with age. In my twenties and early thirties, once I was out, I stayed that way until I got up, and so it was a little easier to control my schedule back then. Not anymore! I have to stay in bed longer to make up for the sleep disturbances, and the fatigue hits me harder than when I was younger.

Tom was able to convert his appointment to a video appointment but now it will be in January instead of December.

The vaccine and our moving day can’t come fast enough as I was telling my buddy. I feel like I’m always stuck in this endless waiting game. And there are no guarantees it will be much better when we move. I mean, logically it makes sense that it should be if you get further from the street and get a sleep pod as well, but it seems something up there is determined to fuck with my sleep no matter where I am or what’s going on.

The bulk trash pickup is today but sometimes they’re a day or two late. We put out the old pink and purple bike I got in Oregon, an old box spring and mattress, and the old, rotted gate that used to be in back.

The Swiss chicken I baked came out horribly. The meat was so tough that I thought it was still frozen when I tried cutting it. This time I seasoned it first and slow-cooked it in chicken broth and I think it will be a lot better.

Aly says I will get my birthday present Saturday, and that Molly deleted her on Fitbit probably because she hasn’t been as supportive of her since she hasn’t gotten the same support in return. I told her the message disappeared when I tapped on the notification and she said she deleted it because she figured I would react the way I reacted about Molly.

Yeah, I figured that’s why she deleted it but why is she so defensive of this person who’s never really been a true friend to her? Molly is bipolar. They’re nothing but non-stop drama and trouble as I’ve told her, but she doesn’t seem to want to hear it. Oh well. It’s still her life and her choice.

Twice I had to ask her if we were going to meet Cam if we ended up driving through there and she said that would depend on his schedule. Oh, I would bet just about anything that if we do drive, he’ll definitely happen to be working.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2020 And again some bastard woke me up, probably one of the trucks leaving the new house that they started working on again. And just like I knew I would be, I’m tired, since the general rule these days is that once my sleep is broken up, I’m going to end up tired no matter how much more sleep I get when I finally get back to sleep. And that I am! However, I did manage to make my Swiss chicken. I just put it in the oven. Hope it comes out okay because the chicken was still partially frozen.

Going to switch from white noise and airplane to white noise and purring cat since the cat almost sounds like a motor itself and maybe it will blend in with the millions of ferociously loud vehicles this world has these days all because people just have to have attention no matter who it affects. Really, I can’t express just how fucking sick of this shit I am! That’s three times in less than a week that they woke me up. Then afterward, I woke up a million times just because and once to pee. Still not taking the stereo because I refuse to ever again live so close to the street, especially a busy one. I’m done with this shit. No, the past is not going to return to haunt me in this case because I won’t let it. However, I may have to re-add the stereo when I’m sleeping during the daytime if I can’t tweak the sleep sounds just right. I don’t think there’s anything I can really do either way because of a combination of how loud vehicles are, how close to the street we are, and what this house is made of.

Last night at 3 a.m. the place started smelling of skunks and it even woke Tom up. As I told him, that was the first thing I thought of; that it would wake me up if I was asleep.

He installed two cameras, one on the patio and one in the carport. It makes recordings of “events” whenever there is motion and has excellent night vision as well. We checked it but the skunk we smelled didn’t come within range of the cameras.

Because central Florida is going to be a little colder and not as pretty as the Gulf Coast, part of me wishes I could end up falling in love with a park and finding it radically different than this one, but I know that’s just a fantasy. People are going to have loud vehicles there too. People are also going to do projects there.

The only things that may be more annoying in a rural setting than a park would be excessive barking, loose dogs, and possibly boom car stereos. But on the bright side, no one could get within a few yards of our windows and we would definitely be safer from hurricanes.

I used to not understand why just because you were older it meant you had to cut your hair off but now I get it. The older I get, the sicker I get of having long hair. I have yet to get, however, why most lesbians and bisexual women “happen” to feel the need to cut their hair off just because they’re attracted to women. I never could make the connection. I’ve been attracted to women yet never felt the urge to cut my hair off because of it. I want to cut it because I’m sick of dealing with it because thick curls are hard to care for, but not before a vaccine is available. Besides, like most older people, I dye my hair more than when I was younger, and this is easier to do with shorter hair. And when I say “short” I don’t mean above the shoulders. No need for me to go that short.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2020 If Aly said everything that was on her mind, would she sound like Andy?

Speaking of him, I had a dream about him last night. The dream had to do with me missing him and being happy to get an email from him, unable to resist the urge to smile when I saw it was from him and knowing I’d replied even though I shouldn’t.

I do miss him at times in real life, but we could never resume our friendship because I know that he is who he is just like I am who I am. I would have the same problems I had with him half a decade ago and that I also had with him in the '80s and '90s where he believed every other thing I said was a lie (along with everything everyone else in the world said), and he’d be the same old pushy, judgmental, argumentative person he always was, not to mention the fact that he could be incredibly insensitive when it came to physical and emotional suffering.

That’s another thing that got to me when watching a Lifetime movie. When one actor said to another that they were worried she may be considering suicide, she answered with, “No, that’s too selfish.”

That right there told me how naive and uneducated the scriptwriter must be. If committing suicide is selfish, what about the terminally ill who choose the right to die? Really, calling someone who commits suicide selfish is like calling a paraplegic lazy.

Loved the one where this guy takes a bat to the neighbor’s noisy lawnmower. If only we could all just take a bat to the things that annoyed us, no repercussions, no nothing.

I also dreamed of my ENT. I don’t know why she’s been on my mind a lot. I certainly don’t have a crush on her, so I guess it’s just that I hope to find doctors just as good in the new place and that I feel just as comfortable with.

In the dream, she was also a DEA and a singer but her last name was Spencer.

I’ve been doing some exercises to help increase flexibility since I’m learning more and more that flexibility isn’t always connected to weight. I’ve seen people bigger than me be more flexible.

We forgot the water was going off yesterday for a few hours, but Tom was lucky enough to have just finished showering when it did. That’s why I try to avoid showers in the daytime. I had just finished brushing my teeth and had to rinse my mouth out with bottled water.

We ran out to Rite-Aid yesterday. Same cashier as last time. She changed her fake nails and I showed her my latest nail stickers. Of all the things I could pick on myself for, I really did get blessed in the nail department. Yes, I have ridges but at least I can grow them if I want to. I’ve seen nails so short that they’re like little stripes across the tips of the fingers they’re on and wider than they are longer. Mine could never be wider than longer even when they’re cut short.

There is never a quiet moment these days in this park. The freeway is roaring at night and the planes are zooming overhead in the daytime. I still can’t believe the constant never-ending traffic on Eisenhower. It doesn’t matter what time of day or year it is. There is always a heavy and constant flow.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2020 My skin is dry as hell. Oh, the joys of living in desert and desert-like climates for the last 28.5 years! It’s going to be 70 degrees tomorrow. First time it’s ever been that high in December in all the years I’ve been here!

I won’t be making any Swiss chicken tonight. Thanks to the pandemic they didn’t have chicken breasts when Walmart delivered this morning. We’ll try again in a few days, but honestly, I wouldn’t have the energy to cook tonight anyway thanks to whatever fucker (probably a motorcycle) woke me up in the middle of my sleep. It took me nearly an hour to fall back asleep and I just didn’t sleep well overall with the stress of knowing something else could go roaring by.

Tom assures me that we really will get a quieter house on a street where less traffic goes by. God, I hope to hell he’s right! And please, no more commercial planes, small planes, military planes, helicopters, and every fucking flying object in the world along with the obnoxious buzz of the freeway! As it is, I swear I’ve been hearing something loud running off in the distance and it’s 2:30 in the morning. I don’t know if it’s some kind of construction or a woodchipper running or what but even the nights suck here. The pandemic has quieted the commercial planes at night but the mornings are still rocking. If anything, they’re starting a little earlier than usual. 5:25 on the dot.

But I swear that when the damn motorcycle went by, the volume on Alexa wasn’t turned up as high, almost as if something up there wanted it to wake me up. Then I swear I heard it get louder again later on. Am I losing my mind or did I really hear that?

I am extremely grateful right now that he doesn’t have to work due to the virus. Every 1 in 1100 people in the US dies from it and it’s now the leading cause of death in the US. I’ve beaten the odds on more than half of those winning cruises! I read that Russia and the UK have begun mass vaccinations so hopefully, we’ll get ours within a few months.

I did a Twitter poll asking if anyone knew more about me than I think they do that’s significant. I got a yes and a no and I wonder if both votes came from Aly to throw me off her scent. If it’s Aly that said yes and it really is true, then how? A paid search? Hacking me somehow?

I know she’s lied about doing a paid search on me. What she said to Molly about finding out who’s behind accounts, finding my old account, visiting a secondary PB account I used to have that I hadn’t used in a while…I’m no idiot.

The question is why she bothered to look me up. I know she didn’t sign up for a paid search solely with me and mind, but she had to have looked me up for some reason. Was it just genuine curiosity or was she looking for something to use against me? Aly has never come off as the vindictive type like the termites. Not without doing something really serious to her. She didn’t do anything to me when she dumped me.

She tweeted that she would lose a lot of friends if she shared everything that was on her mind. Yeah, I know. That’s why I wonder just how true of a friend she really is at times. She seems to be sincere most of the time, but I still think those tweets about thinking often of ghosting someone and making herself harder to find were indeed about me. I learned just what she really thought of me when I spotted a tweet of hers saying she was excited that I wouldn’t be around for a couple of weeks when we went to Florida.

It is still kind of weird that we’re not connected on Facebook, no matter how much she says she doesn’t like Facebook, just like Maliheh and I were never connected there. Also, there’s got to be some reason she won’t share a picture of Cam or her address. What does she think I would possibly do with that information? This is why I sometimes wonder if the guy is even real since she has, after all, shared her parents’ address. Intelligent or not, that’s still one hell of a game to be playing for this long if she really is.

Since our smart smoke detector expired, he installed a basic one. It doesn’t beep nearly as loud as smoke detectors usually do. It gives off 3 beeps for fire warnings and 4 for carbon monoxide.

I had a dream I was playing with a rat in some building. I was letting it run around loose and then I picked it up. My dad was there, and I let him crawl on him and sniff him out curiously, ensuring my dad he wouldn’t bite.

Then I was going to be sharing a small two-bedroom apartment with a couple of deaf women. They were surprised to find I knew ASL.

I just got a great idea for the cute popcorn tin. Well, I’ve been wanting a utensil organizer but they’re more expensive than you think so maybe when we get settled, we can use the tin and he can print out dividers to insert so things won’t slip down and will remain upright easier. Another possibility for it is small doll clothes.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2020 Made my dinner of Pacific whiting with some shredded green, yellow and red peppers, and diced onions. Later I’ll have some chicken wings.

Tomorrow I’m going to be trying a new recipe, Swiss chicken. I don’t remember who it was, but I was reading a random journal on PB where someone mentioned it. I looked it up out of curiosity and decided it was a recipe I would like to try.

My weight is down a bit because I didn’t eat much yesterday mostly because I was just too tired to cook anything. So I can lose weight but I can’t because I’m not going to have just 1000 calories every single day and live on nothing but meat and veggies. Then again, I still don’t think I would lose much more than a few pounds even if I could stick to the same old limited low-cal diet.

What was weird was that yesterday I wasn’t just tired, but more like that rundown kind of feeling you get when you have a cold. I didn’t even wear my Fitbit until I went to bed because I knew I wasn’t going to get shit for steps.

They replaced Virginia’s trellis along her carport yesterday, but it wasn’t loud enough to wake me up. I thought I heard something when I got up to pee at 8:30 so that’s probably what it was since it didn’t seem loud enough or sound right to be the bastard with the saw.

This is the longest we’ve known that bastard not to do any sawing and I’m wondering if I was right about suspecting he had some kind of job connected to construction that he isn’t doing anymore. Maybe he’s now fully retired or is staying home because of the virus but he definitely has seemed to be home more often yet quieter.

“Or maybe he finished working on the house,” Tom said.

Yeah, or maybe he got sick or someone finally complained about him. Who knows? I just like him better when he’s quiet.

Just had a weird experience where it felt like I wasn’t getting much air when I was breathing. I could breathe fine, it’s just that it didn’t seem like there was any oxygen in the air I was breathing.

My TMJ had been doing great ever since I saw my ENT last summer with just a few annoying days but lately, it’s been annoying me again.

Took a peek in on Times Square when it was midnight there. Couldn’t believe all the kids that were out! My mother let me stay up later on weekends too, but not until midnight.

I’m working out a little differently tonight. I’m spending 5 minutes working my arms and then 5 minutes walking around the house briskly. Then in an hour or so I’ll work my core for 5 minutes and walk for 5 minutes. In another hour I’ll work my legs for 5 minutes and walk for 5 minutes. So 15 minutes of cardio and 15 of working various body parts.

Started beading a Y-necklace and it looks a little weird so I put it down for now and will return to it later with a fresh perspective and decide whether or not I want to restring it a little differently.

Got a notification from Google saying that after 2 years of inactivity when it comes to Google Docs, blogs, and other things, they’ll close your account down. My creations are like my children. Mothers do what they can to see that their children survive, and I still feel compelled, for whatever reason, to see that my journals live on in cyberspace for as long as possible after I’m gone. But then it hit me that the sites my stuff is on wouldn’t necessarily be around forever. I don’t know if they would be archived in some kind of time machine or what, but I realize that there are no guarantees. However, I figured I could help keep my account active by creating a picture blog where a random picture of me is scheduled to post every year beginning in 2030, not that I don’t expect to be alive then. But this way, if anything were to happen to us both suddenly and unexpectedly, maybe that will “trick” Google into thinking the account is still active. I’ll start slowing the future journal blog posts down too. Instead of having a month publish every day or so, I’ll start stretching it out into the future once I get to the 2020 journals. Or maybe not.

Had a bunch of weird dreams that didn’t make much sense. In one I was watching a bunch of people enter a large foyer in a large house one night and was surprised that not one of them had a mask on. Then one of the guys was swabbing everyone’s mouth.

Then I was late for some kind of school I was attending and couldn’t find the phone I normally took with me, so I had to find another device to take.

Then I was digging through some stuff and found some things I’d forgotten about, including some plants that may or may not have been real.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2020 I’m now officially a semi-senior! Well, if that’s what turning 55 is considered anyway.

Then having fun with my new pink 7-layer organizer. I know some people see this sort of thing as a chore but it’s fun for me to get organized. I hate having to dive through piles of stuff to find things anyway. I didn’t fill all the compartments as I plan to rearrange things again once we get settled. I’ve already packed some things that this organizer would be great for and will probably get a few more eventually. It’s mostly going to be for jewelry, hair accessories, sewing stuff, and maybe even some doll stuff. The clear apple-shaped case it came with is adorable.

These organizers may have been money well spent but the nail striping tape wasn’t. No matter how well I reinforce it, it peels right off.

Sundae got back to me but rather than giving me a yes or a no as to whether or not they deal with manufactured homes on leased lots, she asked for my address and offered to do a phone call.

I didn’t want to ghost her so I replied thanking her for getting back to me and letting her know up front that we don’t plan to put the house on the market until March, but I did give her the address as I’m curious to see what she has to say. I don’t want to get my hopes up on these people to find that they won’t work with us. I sure hope they will, though, and the fact that she didn’t give me a flat-out “no” gives me hope! This would be a million times easier than taking the traditional selling route. To not have to deal with showings and to know exactly when to expect what and to be able to leave crap behind would be wonderful but only if they’re willing to deal with us and not rip us off. We agreed that accepting less than 60k would be ripping ourselves off. You only have 60 days from the time you get paid to get out. I guess this is so you don’t have as much time to gut the place and all that.

We’re still going to prep the place as planned. I absolutely love having washerless shower handles! I swear our next place is not going to have a single washer in it except for the ones that wash clothes and dishes!

Tomorrow will be the big test for the new sleeping sound setup unless they come early and I’m up late. It’s funny how big of a difference there is between volumes 7 and 8. 7 is a little too soft and 8 is deafening. Tom brought up a good suggestion and asked if there was a 7.1 or something like that. Well, I’ll try starting at 7 when it comes time and then ask Alexa to raise it to 7.5 and see if it gets a little louder.

I’m so glad my genius husband told me that yes, there is a command to get speech-to-text to write quotes for dialogue when doing stories. It must be a new thing because I’ve looked for ways to do that in the past and never could find any. But “open quote” and “close quote” work great!

I hope it’s just the Fitbit or the app that’s having issues because I’m still seeing dips in my HR even when I’m sure the Fitbit is snugly against me and not too loose or anything. Just yesterday I watched it zig zag from the 70s and 80s to the 50s and 60s before it settled into the usual 80s and 90s.

Thought of a hilarious revenge story that would be fun and therapeutic to write in the way that the other story was that involves the sickos in Arizona. This one would deal with the termites. Termite Tammy might die before I do and the Arizona sickos may be gone around the time I’m gone, but the baby termites will still be around if I schedule it to launch after I’m gone just like the other story.

It’s going to be revenge with a supernatural twist. The drama queen can be sitting on Facebook, for example, when a message pops up saying something like, “Partly thanks to you, I lost 6 months of my life. You are going to lose 6 things that are very precious to you one by one.”

But then the message disappears as if it never existed leaving her with nothing to run to the bacon with.

Meanwhile, Mark and her twisted offspring make 4. The fifth loss could be losing her home and possessions in a hurricane. The last loss could be to lose her sight in an accident or something.

Yeah, I think this just may be fun. But not until I finish my crazy female serial killer story.

Later…

Everyone I figured I’d get a birthday wish from on Facebook did in fact send birthday wishes with one exception. Minnie surprised me with a message. Until now, it seemed that all she wanted to do was add me and then ignore me.

I’m not surprised that Mitch, Adonis, and Jessie blew me off and I really wasn’t sure as far as Eileen went. Didn’t hear from her, though.

It was kind of funny how the birthday wishes changed languages depending on the time of day. They started off in German since they’re ahead of us and then changed to English.

My birthday went from fun to frustrating when the garbage and recycle trucks woke me up three fucking times. It isn’t just insanely loud engines but there’s something on those damn trucks that make a really loud bang. Whatever it is, it’s insanely loud and it’s just fucking ridiculous that someone has to be woken up just because it’s trash day. I really REALLY hope to hell we’re done with this shit when we move!

I tried it out, but Alexa doesn’t do any in-between volumes. It doesn’t matter either way because no matter how loud I blasted the fucking thing, I could still hear them loud and clear. Hell, they are still just a few feet away and these walls are barely thicker than cardboard.

It’s been interesting hearing from those who have sought help from a dietitian, but I doubt I’ll see one since I still don’t think they could tell me what I don’t already know. I’d rather spend the money reducing my boobs, not that I likely ever would. The biggest thing I would love to have would be to get my vision corrected and out of glasses for at least a decade, but I don’t think that’s possible. Instead, the only elective procedure I’ll probably get done is pit hair removal.

Despite the rude awakenings, good news came in the mail today. COVID Unemployment has been extended for another 20 weeks and he doesn’t have to look for a job until he’s told otherwise. He still wants to see about getting in with Amazon and then whether or not he can transfer to a facility in Florida. However, and as I told him, I have two strong vibes right now and that’s that he’ll never again work in the state of Cali and we are going to fly out of here.

One down, one to go! Pretty sure Sundae would be happy to give us an offer when the time comes. Then all we have to do is hope they don’t want to rip us off and offer us $20,000. If they really mean it as far as being okay with not making as much of a profit per house as they claim in their video, I don’t see why they wouldn’t agree to not go lower than 60K since they could almost certainly get 80K-90K for this place once it’s been remodeled and well, 20-30 grand is still a substantial profit. But I guess that unlike traditional real estate agents who try to make a bigger profit off of fewer people, they settle for a lesser profit from more people.

I can see where it wouldn’t be wise to tell them up front we don’t want to go under 60K because then they might be like, “Okay we’ll give you that much then,” whereas we could have gotten 80K instead.

Anyway, no guarantees but it’s looking like yes, this house might very well be sold to Sundae which actually focuses on houses that are outdated. I’ve always had a strong feeling that this place would go to a flipper. So they’ll remodel it and then someone can pay a fortune to listen to all the planes, traffic and landscaping. Oh, and have their water turned off periodically too. I was just thinking how this has been one of the longest times we’ve gone without them turning off the water, but then we got a notification that it’s going off for a few hours on Monday.

Bridgette, the woman I’ve been communicating with, thanked me for the info and asked if she could reach out to me after the new year and I told her she could and thanked her for putting a smile on my face for my 55th birthday.

She replied with a birthday gif, LOL.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2020 When I asked Aly if her doctor was aware of her low-calorie intake, she assured me her weight wasn’t down because of starving and that she doesn’t let herself go hungry for too long and that it’s because of her Crohn’s disease. Then she goes in Tweets in her other account that while she gets that some people mean well, one of the reasons she doesn’t discuss her health issues is because people butt in when it’s not necessary.

But she’s the one who brought it up. Why do some people write about certain things or tell people whatever and then get all bent out of shape when the person reading it, out of curiosity, has a question about it or a comment to make? Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just not bring these things up in the first place if you can’t handle what questions or feedback you may get? That’d be like my getting mad at someone after telling them I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with my Fitbit and they suggested a possible culprit/solution. Seriously, you have no right to get upset if you’re the one who opens the door in the first place. Sorry, but you’re a coward if you can’t go directly to the source. What was language created for if not to use it to communicate and express yourself…to the proper people?

It makes me wonder about a couple of other things. How many other things am I supposedly saying or asking that offend her, and why doesn’t she tell me if I upset or annoy her that much?

I thought about confronting her but then that would be verifying that yes, I’m aware of her other account when I would prefer her not to be too sure of that (unless she’s hacking anything of mine) because this way I get to see more of her true colors on what’s really on her mind. Especially since she won’t come to me directly, but that’s okay because, in a sense, I’m not going to her about it either. At least not directly. I’m kind of going about it in a roundabout way, dancing around the subject but bringing up the same point. I guess we both just want to keep the peace. If she has no way to read my private journal now, she’ll know about it in the future since I’m guessing there is a good chance she may read whatever I make public after I’m gone.

She says my package will be late and that she’ll be sending it Friday, but I told her not to worry about it since she has a lot more important things to deal with right now.

Later…

I was browsing around EarthCam and it’s pretty cool. Love how I can see many different cities in many different states, including other countries. As much as I hate big cities and cold climates, I love to look in on Times Square. There’s always something to see even in the middle of the night. It’s great because it’s like being in the city without being in the city. I can look in and listen for as long as I want and then click right out of it and be done with it. Wish I could do that here!

What surprises me is the temperature being in the upper 30s at this time of year in the dead of night. That’s not what I remember the temps to be when I last lived in the Northeast.

I’ve seen people in red jumpsuits sweeping the area where there are scattered tables and chairs, I’ve also seen plenty of cop cars and of course tons of taxis. There was even a small crowd that formed a circle around some street dancers, and this was at 10:30 at night.

It’s always so light even in the middle of the night because of all the giant digital billboards. It seems to throw the pigeons’ schedule off because they’re usually nocturnal, yet I occasionally see them hunting for scraps of food on the ground.

What I don’t get is how so many people can sit outside at the tables and gab away at 3 in the morning as if it was the middle of a beautiful day.

I changed the rat’s cage a little while ago. His tumor almost seems like it’s not growing which is a bit unusual. Usually, they keep growing steadily and quite fast too. He shared a fresh lettuce leaf with Blitz while I worked on his cage. I picked out all the wasted leaves from the pig cages. Damn, those guys are so wasteful!

Last night I made the prettiest bracelet yet. It is just so beautiful and so me! Very pink and shiny. I alternated between hot pink and bright white lava beads with rainbow gemstone separators.

My first attempt at making a daisy bracelet was a bust. The first one came out okay, but I struggled with the second one.

Using Nature Sounds for Sleep seems to be really helping a lot. The real test will be trash day but if they come early, I might still be up. I’m still going to want a backup to Alexa even if we leave the stereo behind, and it’s looking like we will at this point. If the net went out or there was a power failure, I’d want to have a portable sound machine as a backup. One that isn’t 20 years old like the one I’ve got is. I’ll take the old one until it’s replaced, though. Just not the stereo.

We talked about me getting permanent hair removal done under my arms since for some reason shaving irritates the hell out of me these days and I would want to be shaved year-round there, and maybe even check into seeing a dietitian once we get settled and know what our money is going to be like. I’ve got mixed emotions about a dietitian. Part of accepting myself as I am means doing what I’ve been doing for the most part and that’s not trying to change things. Also, I don’t see what they could tell me that I don’t already know. I’d have to cut my calories lower than I could stand and do tons of working out to maybe lose weight that will only come right back. We know there are no magic foods or magic food combinations but just some foods that can make it easier to gain weight.

But then I didn’t think Amy could help me as much as she did, and I realize that staying this heavy isn’t good for me even if over two-thirds of me is muscle. It’s much harder to get around and I know it can’t be good for my blood pressure, cholesterol, and shit like that. I know I can’t diet and exercise it off as most people can, so I suppose that if the opportunity ever presented itself it can’t hurt to at least try one and see what they say. Maybe they can really tell me something I don’t already know.

But then what about my old 250-pound GYN? Why can’t they help her get the weight off if she doesn’t want to get the gastric sleeve? She’s a doctor. If she can’t lose weight, how could I?

Facebook might have actually done us a great favor for once and for all with all the stupid unwanted suggestions they throw in my newsfeed as if I can’t look things up on my own, by throwing in an ad for a company called Sundae. If there isn’t some hidden catch and they would be willing to give us the minimum of what we want for this place and they don’t exclude manufactured homes on leased lots, they would make things a million times easier for both of us. They give you a quote and you’ve got 60 days to get out (so you don’t have as much time to gut the place or anything). You not only wouldn’t have to deal with having to show the place, but they say you can also skip the repairs and leave all your junk behind too. That would be a huge convenience for us not to have to deal with Goodwill coming to pick up what they would take and the pressure of having to find ways to get rid of what they wouldn’t.

It would also make the move itself easier because we would have a much better idea of when we needed to be out of here whereas if we went about it the usual way, we have to wait until everything closes and we wouldn’t know exactly when that would be right down to the day. So it would be a huge convenience for us because then we could line up the dates easier as to when to get plane tickets if we were flying, schedule a pod to pack our stuff in if it was going to be shipped, or when to get a U-Haul if we were going to drive across.

If we go with them, we may not contact them until late March because we still don’t want to leave too early. I’ve been ready to go for years but the plan is to arrive in the summer when the heat, humidity, and all those allergens are at their worst so I can get a sense of how I’m going to handle it.

But damn, would that make things easier and be really cool if we could just take what we wanted, sell whatever we could get money for that we didn’t want, and simply walk off and leave the rest behind!

It’s nice when I have dreams that are funny, unique and weird instead of really crazy or scary. In last night’s dream, the group home Molly lives in was right here in my city and I guess it always had been. I thought to myself that I had yet to meet anyone in person that I met online and decided why not go meet Molly and change that?

In real life, I’ve never wanted to meet her or be her friend just because she reached out to me because I was friends with someone who didn’t want anything to do with her at the time. I’m over the hard feelings I once had for her due to the way she stalked me, but I could never forgive her mother because of the way she should have known better. She did what my sister did. She aided her daughter in stalking me.

So while it may be the last thing I would ever do in real life, I went to visit her, and when we checked in at the front desk, I told them who I was and they went to talk to Molly to make sure she would see me. They returned just a few minutes later to take me back to see her.

Tom waited in the waiting room while I went and visited with her. Where it got strange was that when I returned to the waiting room and we were looking for our shoes which they made us take off for some reason, I couldn’t remember a damn thing about the visit. I couldn’t remember what we talked about or anything at all about it. My mind was completely blank, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to document in my journal what our discussion was about or what Molly was like. All I could do instead was have the silly and irrational fear that Aly would be angry with me for going to see her when in reality neither of us cares who the other sees as that’s our right as adults, of course.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2020 Listening to my Discovery Mix right now that Amazon threw together for me. They choose 25 songs every week and not one of them has appealed to me yet. Music today is so boring. It’s like everything sounds the same. It just isn’t what it was in the 70s and 80s.

I’m a light pink sparkly lady tonight! This was from the same set that Tom tested a piece of on his middle finger which is still holding up. I applied that tea tree base coat and yes, they definitely seem to adhere better to that. I could feel it as I was applying them. Only one nail did I not put a base coat on just to see if there was a difference. They look gorgeous but they are still kind of thick and snag in my hair if I run my fingers through it. So much so that I can see a very thin faint clear ring of plastic they put around the edges to try to thin the edges down.

The set of file boxes came today so I set those up. I’ve got five different brands in my five boxes plus a couple of extras in one of them since I’ve got about seven different brands right now.

The other night I did some video tweets and found they didn’t cut off anything I was saying. I do them in the dark, so there’s just a black vid. Maybe I’ll do some more tonight. I really hope Voice Notes comes to Android early in the year!

If I didn’t know we were moving in a matter of months, the number of helicopters I’ve heard since I got up would make me want to beat my head into the wall. It’s ridiculous. Just fucking ridiculous. So are the projects. Amazingly, though today’s only woke me up for a second despite being so loud and so close. In fact, had I known what was coming as I was going to bed, I would have had a ton of trouble falling asleep.

Initially, it was a nightmare that woke me up. Then, as I was falling back asleep I heard a loud bang or something that I assumed was someone crashing into the speed bump if not something next door. Like maybe they banged one of their bins which are by the bedroom windows.

I raised the volume of the two sounds I had running on Alexa from 7 to 8 and then slept fine from there on out. I was really surprised to learn from Tom that today’s project was a woodchipper parked right outside the bedroom in the back. He went out to see what all the racket was and where it was coming from. I went out to see if I could see what they cut down but I can’t tell. I’m thinking it might have been one of the cypress trees at the house next to Lawrence but can’t say for sure. I’m just glad it didn’t keep me awake for the hour or so that Tom said they were there. They could have been removing a tree stump instead of trimming trees but again, I don’t know. I just know that I’m tired of being woken up by shit that occurs when I’m sleeping and having to listen to it when I’m awake. We can’t get out of here fast enough! Even if the next place isn’t exactly peaceful, we could certainly do better than this. I just wish we had this premium Nature Sounds subscription ever since we moved in, but we didn’t even get our first Alexa till 2015. One of our best and purchases ever!

So the nightmare I had was strange. It was late at night and I was running to a two-story house we had with an old friend. That old friend might have actually been Jenny C. She ran ahead of me and I was trying not to be spooked out since I was running along streets late at night that wasn’t in a gated community.

Then I got to my house where Tom was upstairs in the bedroom already asleep and my friend, whoever she was, left a few minutes later.

I went upstairs for a little bit and then went back downstairs. I found we had a slider that was open and at first it didn’t hit me as strange. But then I realized my friend wouldn’t have left that way and that someone might have been in the house. I raced back upstairs and when I was halfway up the stairs, I saw a light come on somewhere downstairs. Then I became really scared and ran really fast to tell Tom someone was in the house. He quickly sat up and began to dial 911.

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glasyasbutch · 6 months ago

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re-posting the stella and craving meet cute moment, bc it was originally only put out as part of a MONSTER ask game answer from years ago where it kinda got buried. have at it >:3

Craving was her name, or at least, that's what she'd told Estella. Even if it wasn't her real name, it was one hell of a power move to half-stumble, half-get shoved into the cell, hair all tangled and makeup starting to smudge, swear at the guards with an alcohol-thick tongue, turn to Estella, size her up by moonlight, pull out the sides of her full lace skirt and curtsy, then hold out a thoroughly bejeweled hand to be kissed and announce, "Craving, pleasure."

And like. It worked.

Estella would've been forever indebted to her for the fantasies that inspired alone, but as luck would have it, her surprise cell mate happened to also be incredibly useful in the jailbreak department.

"I'd figure you'll be wanting to get out of here right quick," she said, suddenly much more coherent, eyes trained on the tattoo in thieves' cant on Estella's wrist.

"What's it to you?" Estella responded, hedging her words in case the guards were much trickier than she thought.

"Oh c'mon, I'm not a snitch. You really think any one of these guards would want to be trapped in a cell with a serious criminal wearing a dress like this? No, I'm hoping you managed to hide a lockpick on you."

"Unfortunately, they got me while I was actively using my lockpick, and even their stupid asses did think to take it away before they stuck me in here."

"Well. Shit." Craving sighed, slumping along the wall across the cell. "I could try with one of these," she said, tugging a pin out of the dying hairdo, "but it'll take a while."

Estella shrugged. "Where else am I gonna go?"

Craving didn't answer, already fiddling with the pin between her hands, trying to unbend it to the proper angle to hopefully send them to freedom. It wasn't going particularly well. The drunkenness, while seemingly exaggerated in front of the guard (to avoid questions, maybe?), was still somewhat present, and that combined with the stiffness of the metal, and the billion rings she was making no move to take off, was not working in her favor.

After watching her push and curse at it for a good few minutes, Estella walked across the cell and held her hand out. "Lemme see it."

She'd taken the pin from Craving's hands, very aware of the eyes that trained on her fingers as they pressed and smoothed the metal, flattening out the kinks and forming the bends where they ought to be.

She looked up into those eyes as she finished. "My name's Ester. Not that you asked."

Craving tilted her head, leaning into and over Estella ever so slightly. "Ester. That's pretty."

"Short for Estella."

"Even prettier."

"You can call me either of those."

"Anyone ever call you Stella?"

"Absolutely not. You think that'll work?"

"Well, I was hoping - oh, the pick. Yeah. I can work with it. I just need ten minutes of not being watched by guards."

Estella rolled her eyes, but there was something about the girl's blatantness that she was actually a little (very) into. "Wait a few hours then. They'll probably get tired around one and stop making the rounds as frequently."

Craving pouted.

"And I would've thought you'd be pleased to be stuck in a tight space with me for several hours."

"Well, I can't say that I wouldn't be pleased," she said, then caught herself. "You were fishing for that."

"Yeah, I was."

Estella stepped back towards the opposite wall, pulling herself out of Craving's space at a teasingly slow pace. Craving seemed to want to follow her, but they both knew better than to allow themselves to get distracted before the jailbreak had occurred. Without anything to say that wouldn't either be redundant or risk running down every last bit of her self control, Estella chose to sit in silence and glance at Craving far more frequently than anyone could consider coincidence. About half the time, Craving was already looking back at her.

Once the moon had begun to dip back down, casting deeper shadows through the bars on the window, Estella pushed herself up off the floor, crossed the room, and held out her hand. "It's probably late enough. We doing this?"

Craving took the hand and pulled herself up, visibly taken by the strength in the grip she hadn't been expecting. "Absolutely, dear."

Even with a makeshift lockpick, getting out of the cell wasn't hard. The guards were even lazier than expected, the bolt was shoddy at best, and the skill Craving had with her fingers was ... extremely noteworthy.

Getting down to the store room where their belongings had been confiscated also wasn't too hard. They were good at stepping softly and blending into dark corners. And, again, these guards were really lazy.

No, the problem came when Estella was shoving her arrows back into her quiver, lock pick and coin pouch already slipped safely into her pockets, but Craving was still rummaging through drawers with increasing desperation.

"What is it?"

"One of my knives, I can't find it."

"You don't have enough?" Estella gestured to the six knives of various lengths she'd dumped out of a bin and was rifling through.

"No, no. I need this one. It's important." It's possible it was just the shadows in the room, but it almost looked like her lip was quivering.

"Alright," Estella sighed, trying to hide her impatience. "What's it look like."

"Antique, brass detailing on the hilt, floral carvings on the blade. About this long. Very sharp."

Estella nodded and split off towards the further corner of the rooms. Antique knife certainly would stand out. Maybe it'd been set aside as something that needed extra inspecting.

Or to be sold.

It looked like there was a box of assorted items shoved on top of one of the cabinets. Estella couldn't tell what exactly what was in there, but it looked like a very many shiny things. Possible that these guys liked to play auction house at the end of their shifts. It was high up, though, and she was going to have to climb on the counter to get up there. It'd be fine, though. She climbed into all sorts of weird places with extreme stealth all the time. She could get up there no problem.

Okay, slight problem. The box was overfilled, and pulling it off the shelf resulted in the bottom falling out, and at least nine different things made mostly of metal went clattering to the floor.

Estella leapt off the counter, grabbed for the most knife-shaped object in the pile, and started running for the door.

"This it?" she called as she neared Craving.

"What the fuck did you - yes - what the fuck did you do?"

"Badly stacked box, not my fault, let's go."

Craving hiked up her skirt with one hand, reached for Estella's with the other, and took off running.

It was the most inexplicable kind of joy, sprinting through the corridors at top speed, slamming open cell doors behind them to trip up some guards, firing a few arrows and chucking a handful of knives when they had the chance, slipping out in the chill of the night and rushing down dark alleys to make sure they weren't followed.

And it was a very predictable kind of intimacy, pressed up side by side against a brick wall with the flush of adrenaline still in their cheeks, breath still heavy in their chests, the last dregs of moonlight flickering across their curled up lips, almost like a beacon. They were leaning in before they even had the chance to acknowledge their success.

"You know, I wouldn't do this for just any girl who broke me out of prison," Estella said as she pulled back to re-situate herself better for the height difference.

"Really? I would."

Estella snorted, tossing her head back. Craving's lips were on her neck before she could finish her laugh, and she was back to focusing on much more pressing matters than one-liners.

"I have an inn room, you know," she managed to get out eventually, when Craving had to stop for a moment to pull at the strings keeping her corset shut in very complicated knots.

"So do I, but there's something so much more fun about being out here."

She reached out to grab Estella's chin with a hand, those damn rings still on. They made her touch feel cold (save, of course, for the two fingers Craving kept permanently jewelry free because they were, apparently, "all she needed"), a real shock against the heat of Estella's furious blush. Craving grinned for a moment, studying the face below her.

"You know, for a girl who's not named Stella, you really are something else in the starlight."

#craving #stella #thinking about them so much forever recently. for no particular reason aha

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rightxonxmain-archived · 1 year ago

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smolcuriouskitten:

Onyx being well rested from her nap, started her routine and finished with good time. She had to be discreet with her way of dressing so she wore normal street clothes and changed outside to not raise suspicion. Kissing Brian goodbye and shooting a glare at the little blue guy, she went to a telephone pole nearby where she called her client.

They gave her instructions and told her about the job which she gave a code word as confirmation. Hanging up, she snaps her fingers to change into her work uniform, an all black bodysuit with flats and her hair in a tight braid. No jewelry or heels, she couldnt risk getting grabbed or being heard. Before she carries out the job, she likes to observe the victims to try and figure out the best approach.

Her target was a local crooked politician. He was one of the cases that was difficult to tell when he wasnt hated by everyone. She doesnt care about that, all she cares about is the money and the job getting done. She didnt feel like being bothered with an angry client. Scaling a building using her magic, she hears a familiar voice nearby, hiding in the shadows to not be seen in the dim light. Her heart stopped when she seen Brian, getting frisked and kissed and gropped by a woman.

She wanted to step in, she wanted to kill the woman and make it painful, something she was an expert at if the moment called for it. As much as she wanted to go cry in a corner and not come out of it, she still had a job to do, swallow the tears for now. You cant risk blowing your cover. As much as she wanted to make this a moment she can forget, she knew she had to talk to Roxie before doing anything. If she didnt, Brian would be 6 feet under and Alymer would be an afterthought. So begrudgingly, she took a picture with a camera and put it away. Hopefully by then it would process after all the time that would pass.

Her anger was shown blantantly in the kill she did. Her work was sloppy and she used the victim to take out all of her anger for the moment even if that was boiling over. When the job was done, she calls the client from a phone in the room, politicians have several phones, sleezebags. They exchange the code word and leave each other where they are, not bothering to clean up the body. The client wanted to send a statement to their local government so she was instructed to leave it there and make a mess so to speak. She was grateful given how pissed she was.

'Dont you dare go home. Come to furballs house first.' Roxie's voice rang in her head as she left the building, her bodysuit and face covered in blood. She wanted to ignore her sister, tell her to fuck off, and finish Brian off herself for breaking her heart and trust. The very thought of seeing his face made her violent but Roxie kept chiming in. 'Dont you dare! Bring your ass here!' 'If you do something stupid, Im not helping you!' A loud and annoyed groan left her lips as she snapped her fingers to teleport to Rockelle's house.

The house was in good condition but it was the place where she moved to in order to get away from the thought of her abusive ex. She hasnt left her house in over 50 years and Roxie had free reign, being able to roam freely and cause her more pain without consequence. Things were good for her sister, no matter how much she hated the treatment of Rockelle. She didnt care for the woman much but she knew how it felt to be abused and teased relentlessly after. She knew she hated it just as much as she did back in assassin school.

Roxie opened the door before she could even knock and Onyx silently looks at her. "You look like shit. I felt your aura jump. Are you- WOAH-" Roxie starts then was firmly grabbed and sobbed on, Onyx's cries filling the air while Roxie cringes. "Hey hey you are getting blood all over me! What happened?! Are you okay?!" She asks and Onyx could only speak in cryish (a form of crying gibberish) and hand gestures. While Rockelle lived in a secluded area, she knew someone would hear her sisters wail of a cry. "Okay okay lets get you inside, shh shh." Roxie practically yanks her in and sits her down on the couch.

Rockelle promptly glares at Roxie for getting blood on her couch. "Hey, I will clean it later, let me help my sister first." Roxie barks and Rockelle waves her hand, going back to cooking herself food. "Onyx, look at me. Take a deep breath okay?" She demonstrates and Onyx follows, albiet shakily and sniffs, tears running down her face. "Now can you tell me what happened? I havent seen you cry at all since...'47! You never show anything! What made you-" Roxie began to ramble and Onyx shows the picture. It fully processed by now and Onyx began to wail again, shaking and sobbing.

"Dont tell me you seen another dead animal on the...side...walk." Roxie looked over the picture and her heart dropped, understanding why her sister was so unconsolable. It was Brian getting sucked off, in a dirty alley by some woman that wasnt her sister. Now you would think Roxie would console her, tell her everything will be okay, but Roxie wasnt normal. The woman began to laugh, a loud belly laugh filled the air and Onyx stopped crying briefly to look at her, Rockelle poking her head out of the kitchen to see what the laughter was about.

"What...in the fuck is so funny about that?" Onyx asks amist her tears and Roxie wiped the tears away, snorting. "Your boyfriend is so much of a loser he couldnt even get a hotel room to cheat in! Oh thats ri-" She began to tease until Onyx pointed a gun at her which clammed her up quickly. Rockelle quickly ducked in fear of a shot ringing out. "Dont you EVER laugh at my misfortune. Theres not jack shit funny about this." Onyx said as the gun was taken off safety which Roxie lowers it, looking at her sister with a deadpanned expression. "Im not laughing at you dumbass. Im laughing at him for being that stupid. Cheating on you? Then doing it in public? He must have clearly been out of it! You didnt kill him though did you? Besides, you dont have any bullets left, you are getting sloppy sis." And with that, Roxie snatches the gun and throws it across the room.

"Shut up, I wanted to scare you." Onyx said, her expression going back to sad, tears still rolling down her face. "No. No I didnt kill him. I came here you idiot. Now are you going to help me or not?!" The woman asked, still upset about the revelation of her beloved cheating. "Pump the breaks spazoid. Im saying your boyfriend is so much a loser, him getting you was a miracle. You really think he would just cheat like that, risking you seeing it on one of your 'walks?' Better yet, did he even show signs of wanting to cheat? This isnt exactly something that would 'come out of nowhere' if he never leaves the house." Roxie explained which made Onyx even more upset. "How dare you discredit what I seen?! The evidence is there and Im a former sex worker! What if-" She starts and Roxie shakes her head. "No, if he went in with intention to cheat, you would have known it. You have intuition of a damn hawk and you would have seen it before it ever happened. What did you do before you left today?"

"We...We cuddled. And he talked about a future with me." Onyx replied and Rockelle thought about it for a moment. "Can..Can I see that picture really quick?" She chimes in and Roxie scowls. "No you fucking idiot! What do you-" She starts and Onyx points a knife at her which shuts her up, handing the picture over silently. "I dont care what happens in this house when Im not here but you wont make fun of her in front of me. She can see it, its fine." Onyx corrects and Roxie growls as Onyx puts the knife away.

"As I was saying, I dont think he just cheated to cheat. Even IF a woman convinced him to, it doesnt seem likely. He fumbled and was a huge zeeko! You cannot tell me he wouldnt just nervously talk and-" Roxie continued then Rockelle chimes in. "Um...May I ask an intimate question Onyx?" Which makes Roxie reach to grab one of Onyx's knives but the woman stops her by grabbing her wrist with a vice grip making her squeal. "Go for it." Onyx responds and Rockelle slowly brought the picture closer, showing a sleeve of blue in the womans mouth. "Is...Is Brians dick blue?" Rockelle asks timidly and Roxie snatches the picture with a free hand. "Your meds must not be working! You have GOT to he joking, theres no way in hell his dick is-" A pause. "Oh shit it is blue." Roxie said and Onyx takes the picture away, releasing her sisters wrist, taking a closer look at the picture.

It was blue. His dick was blue. Onyx silently got up and felt her blood boiling over even more this time. Both Rockelle and Roxie immediately cowered away, knowing when Onyx is silent, shes a very deadly woman. "Um...sis...Did you-" Roxie starts and Onyx looked over at them both with red eyes, making them flinch. "You shouldnt go out covered in blood...It might scare someone." Rockelle chimes in, which Onyx snaps her fingers, changing her outfit and getting the blood off of her face and body. With the picture in hand, she walks out of the door, the two women left to wonder who was the unlucky bastard who caused this.

Onyx arrived home, not acknowledging a crying Brian on the couch. The picture she had, dropped from her clenched fist onto the coffee table, nearby Brian. Her gaze was stoic and icy, red as the blood she wished to rip from Alymer by hand. This behavior was odd considering she would always speak to Brain but her focus was elsewhere. Without hesitation, she kicks in the formally shut bathroom door, knocking it off the hinges, grabbed the blue turd, firmly enough to hold him in place but not enough to hurt him.

"You have only one chance and one chance only to tell me what the fuck you did tonight. If you lie, I will kill you and throw you to the birds do you FUCKING HEAR ME?!" Onyx screamed. This is terrifying for many reasons. Onyx doesnt show emotion so when she does, its scarier. She doesnt raise her voice, no matter how her expression is, always speaking at one tone. She was very docile with Brian, her violent nature never seeping through the cracks despite her career choice. So this would hopefully send a message to Alymer with how pissed he was.

In the back of her head, she risked Brian going through withdrawals. Hurting in a way she could never fully fix and potentially fucking over their relationship. She knew Brian would find out the monster she is in more ways than one, she knew Brian would even fear her after this moment. Her anger was so apparent and strong at this time, she put it aside to selfishly end this little worm. Her intuition was right all of this time about him. How he was using her boyfriend to do devious things such as cheat on her.

How did she not catch it before? Did she miss his heart rate when she said certain things? Did she miss the lipstick on his collar when she did his laundry? Did she miss the way women would look at him out in public? Did she miss any signs that SCREAMED he was doing this? This revelation made her even angrier, her grip tightening just enough to bruise him but not enough to kill him. She wanted this blue fucker to suffer.

She knew she shouldnt have trusted this. She should have known it would be a trick. She should have known it was too good to be true. She knew she couldnt let herself become so vulnerable and so WEAK with another person. She wanted to rip both Alymer and Brian limb from limb for tricking her into thinking she was safe with them. She wanted to start with the little shit that always caused her problems in the first place and she would be damned if anyone came in between this.

If this seems foolish or irrational, it isnt in her eyes. Shes always been the butt of someones joke and she would be damned if she let it happen again. So now shes going to get her payback for being tricked into believing she was safe with someone else. Shes only safe with her sister and herself. Her solitude is better than ever going through this again.

Aylmer squeaked—That's right, SQUEAKED—the door and the grabbing happening all too fast for him!

For the initial seconds, the blue man struggled in her hands, quickly finding that he was only making it harder on himself.

"Were you raised in a barn??? Didn't anybody ever tell you to KNOCK before kicking in a closed door?!" The parasite narrowed his teensy eyes until they nearly vanished altogether. He was in quite a predicament and he wasn't in any position to act recklessly. He could lash out and sink his teeth into her forehead but then he'd just be stuck with goody-goody Brian.

***

Brian had fallen asleep out of mental exhaustion, waking when he heard the crash. He shot straight up from his pile of tears on the sofa, afraid that Aylmer had finally deserted him.

"Onyx? What the hell are you doing?!" He tapped her shoulder, disheartened and confused to see his two favourite people seemingly at such odds with each other. "If you wanted a hit that badly, you didn't have to squeeze it out of him!" He turned his eyes to Aylmer.

"Aylmer, what the hell is going on?"

smolcuriouskitten // cont'd [ x ]

Brian didn't face Onyx straightaway but gradually turned his head towards the woman he loved. He knew that making eye contact wasn't an imperative since she seemed to never change her expression (usually) and therefore it wasn't easy to read her reaction to what was being said to her.

Still, he had called her in here and now he was obligated to treat this like an actual civil conversation.

"Well, that's kind of just it-"

The young man practically recoiled when he saw that grin which was, unfortunately, getting to be more and more characteristic. It was also a bit of a 'war flashback' moment for him, as he could recall breaking out into maniacal smiles for no reason at all starting with his connection to Aylmer.

"You and he have been doing an awful lot of talking lately..." Brian sighed, still in the dark as to the light shooting out of his head. Right now he had a rig of saran wrap and tape over it to keep the elements out, but he knew that would only get him so far. Needless to say, hats were a must when out in public. His brother Mike was bringing new fashions over weekly.

"I just don't want you going down the same path as I have, Onyx... And I don't want more trouble for Aylmer, either... It's not any secret how much I've had to pay the cops to keep quiet about things as they are..."

***

The parasite was indeed incapacitated, currently swaddled and sipping chicken brains from a blender cup with a straw, but the severed link between himself and Brian had caused an additional phenomenon; he could now hear all of Brian's thoughts! Even from another room!

Needless to say, the attempted co-conspiring taking place in the bathroom caused unhappiness to swell inside of his blue body. Onyx was his only recourse during these tough times, this he believes wholeheartedly... Aylmer didn't actually posses a heart, instead a heart-like part called the aortic arch, but that's neither here nor there. All that mattered was his will to pit Onyx against Brian because Brain, bless him, was of little to no use anymore.

#smolcuriouskitten #m; brian #m; aylmer

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neonlights92 · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking.

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis.

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices.

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily. She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.”

He racks his brain for her name. Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose?

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do? He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea.

“Hi…. You.” He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly.

She blinks again, this time a little more furious. Her eyes narrow after a moment.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover.

“I uh - maybe. It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever. Just get out. Jerk.”

Jungkook feels bad. Seriously, he does.

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of. He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces. He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way. And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle.

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays. This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.” She laughs a little, “Hi.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.”

Y/N. So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate. I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is. His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh… Yeah. On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place. But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.” Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing. Oh god.

He’s in love.

He has to be.

“Jungkook. You’re being ridiculous.” Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.” Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst. It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No. I’m serious, Namjoon. C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never. I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl. Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon. I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point. You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook. A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.” Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?” Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.” Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.

But he can’t help it. He needs to see Soomi again.

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?” Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.” Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants. Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face.

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung? I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again. I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else. Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.” Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious. He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N. She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second. By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning. Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares. He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own.

Jungkook grunts. He can’t really blame her.

Still. Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone. When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.” She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid. You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces. It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him. Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers. He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room. Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle. He leans towards her, conspiratorially.

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.) Jungkook knows of Jimin. He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends. That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.” She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously. He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother. We grew up together.”

“So what? You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?” She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends. I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.” Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?” Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god. You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her. Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion. Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily. Jungkook tries to read her face.

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.” Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that. Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair.

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t. I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage. I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph. Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early. He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling

Y/N: y’know.. I knew giving you my number was a bad idea

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried. Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook. So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you. Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit. Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement. Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements? I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting. You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then. Alright hawaiian it is.

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch. The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza. Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that. I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price. Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it.

Man. Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever. And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan. Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so. Weird. Why hasn’t he seen those before? Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.” He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it to be honest. Always been more of a... Background kind of person.”

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter. Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go. And I’ve known her… Forever, really. So it makes sense. Someone always has to take the back seat. I don’t mind it. Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole. When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Really.”

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it. Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it. Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her. He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right. And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!”

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am. And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.” Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy? Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon? Y/N agreed to help me. It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly? You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine. But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour. It has to be. The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right? I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah. This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation. He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.” He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad. In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute. She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?” Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook. And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.” He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides. If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for. Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #imagine #jungkookxreader #smut #angst #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #e2l

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ghoul333 · 3 years ago

Text

serial lover

chapter one(?)

pairing: billy x f!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: billy wants to kill you, but you change his mind last minute.

warnings: angst, murder, swearing, fluff(?)

a/n: i used both their point of views so i hope it came out alright. i definitely want to write another chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

He looked at you from afar. Lurking in the bushes, watching your every move. It was pretty much turning into a daily routine. He wanted you, bad. Billy was heavily debating when to break in one of these nights to kill you. Lucky for him, tonight might be the night, your parents weren't home and your siblings were nowhere to be seen. Just you, sitting pretty on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

You were the perfect victim. It had been a few years since the first killing spree in Woodsboro. Everything for the most part had gone back to normal. They thought about it for a while, and considering they had succeeded the first time, Billy and Stu decided to give it another go. Only for this job was Billy on his own, Stu being with his girlfriend.

A kind, innocent girl like you? That would be fun. Though you had never wronged the pair, you were somewhat of a loner. Quiet but willing to help when needed. Might've been a distasteful move, but damn was Billy eager to hear what your screams sounded like.

And now that you were alone, it was the perfect time to play a game.

Only you weren't.

Your brother in law, Ian, was in the living room, watching a hockey game.

Billy got into a stance when he saw you getting up from the bed, figuring you would leave the room. Instead, you paced in circles. He looked down at your hands, you were flicking your index finger against your thumb, as if it was out of anxiety. You seemed to be contemplating something.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Billy having to duck down so you wouldn't spot him. It would be a different story if he was dressed up as himself, you two were acquainted after all, having one or two classes together. But he wasn't exactly 'himself' right now, he was Ghostface. Though he and Ghostface were one in the same, you didn't know that. You would only see a masked psycho hiding in your bushes.

He was about to pick up his cellphone to call your house phone, but something stopped him. His hand was frozen in place. When he looked back to you, he noticed a change in your expression.

You were crying in the mirror.

Billy cocked his head. What the fuck was this? One minute you're fine and seemingly calm. Then the next minute you're crying as if something traumatic happened.

He raised his brows, surprised when you stopped crying immediately, as if on cue. Your eyes had been glossy but were now completely dry.

Holy shit. Where did you learn that? He thought.

You didn't look sad anymore. In fact there was no emotion at all and for some reason, Billy loved it.

—

You wiped the tears off your face and stared at yourself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath.

Was that believable? I think so.

A part of you wished you had someone here to let you know, but this was something you needed to do by yourself. You didn't even know if you were gonna go through with it, but the urge wouldn’t leave your mind.

Hearing a loud cheer from the other room, you groaned in disgust. You had a hard time believing your family would leave Ian here with you. Especially after all the shit you've taken from him.

You could confidently say that you hated your brother in law. Your sister disappointed you, putting up with trash like him and you resented your family for tolerating it for as long as they have. For over a year, he had lived in your house. Being nothing but a bum. Always being a fucking asshole to you and your family, then making you feel like shit when you call him out.

He could get away with it too. The fact your father was rarely in town made it easy and you hated it. You hated him. You wanted him gone, for good.

You knew there was only one way. No matter how many fights, he wouldn't leave. Refused to.

If he was gone, everything would be fine. It'd take time for some people to heal, but this was for the best.

Thinking about it put a smile on your face. Even though the inhuman thoughts ashamed you, you couldn't help but let them excite you at the same time. Never in your life had you wanted to do something like this, but you craved to see that piece of shit suffer. This would be the only time, and hopefully you wouldn't get caught.

You opened up your drawer, pulling out some scissors, studying them for a few seconds before putting them back.

You weren't ready to get blood on your hands. You looked around your room, trying to find something easy and simple. You looked down at your rack of shoes. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

You pulled the lace from one of your old sneakers, you'd have to dump them afterwards but you wouldn't miss them. While you wrapped the string around both your hands, something came over you. You didn't even realize you were walking to the living room, until you were standing right behind him while he watched his game. At that point, your body was doing the talking. Fuck what was actually right. Fuck morals.

Billy watched all this, following your every move. He cursed himself for not noticing the other obvious person in the house. How stupid. If he decided to pursue you there was a greater chance he wouldn't get away. Stu would've had to come. You kind of saved him there.

Seeing the single shoelace in your grip and standing so close behind Ian, he was actually anticipating your next move. Which surprised him, you had him on the edge of his seat. You had opened his eyes in those last few minutes. You had him so confused.

He had been watching you for days, basically knew your day and night routine. So, where did this come from? You put on an act, even for yourself?

He couldn't deny he thought you were, somewhat, adorable. Many victims had been adorable, but being adorable doesn't mean shit to Billy. If he wanted to gut you, he would.

There were times where you would just sit and stare into a void, but he didn't really think anything of it. He didn't realize how fucked up in the head you really were.

He couldn't kill you now, definitely not. You were turning out to be just as insane as he was. Billy felt drawn to you. He was rooting for you.

You stood there long enough for Ian to notice your presence behind him. Not even turning around, he opened his mouth.

"What the fuck do you wa-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before you wrapped the shoelace around his neck, attempting to strangle him.

Hearing him speak irritated the fuck out of you. You'd rather cut your own ears off, but why do that? He should just simply stop talking.

He was strong, but you gave yourself props for not wearing socks, your feet were planted firmly on the ground, and they weren't going anywhere. His arms were violently swinging, voice coming out in gargles. How long did I need to do this for? Maybe a plastic bag would've been easier.

It felt like forever until he quit moving. Eventually, his arms fell limp and his breathing stopped. You stood there for a moment, the lace still wrapped around him. Had you killed him?

You decided you wanted to be sure, jerking the shoelace against his neck just one more time.

Suddenly his arm flew up, grabbing the shoelace and trying to jerk your body forward. You begin to struggle against him, pulling the lace as tight as you could so he couldn't grip it, but he was able to overpower you within seconds. Yanking you over the sofa he had been sitting on, you groaned in pain as your back hit the floor. The air being knocked out of you.

Where did that adrenaline come from?

Watching you flip like that, for some reason, worried Billy. Even he thought you had him. He couldn't let this happen, he felt the strong urge to come to your rescue. Sure, some random guy dying by the hands of ghostface didn't fit the route they were trying to take, but Billy was going to protect you tonight. He needed to.

He quickly got up from where he was crouched, beginning to creep his way towards the house. He figured he needed to move fast considering how much smaller you were compared to the man you were trying to murder.

"You little fucking bitch!" Ian managed to seethe, voice extremely hoarse. He got up from where he was standing and grabbed you by the hair, making you cry out pain. Billy heard the commotion from outside, and the sound he'd been wanting to hear. He didn't like it. Why?

Why did it make him angry to hear you in pain?

You wanted to avoid eye contact with Ian, but he yanked your hair again, making you face him. The look in his eyes seemed hungry, and not in a good way.

He gave you a vile smile, before slapping you across the face, making you tumble to the floor once again. You slowly reached up, touching your cheek. A single tear threatened to fall but you quickly blinked it away. It burned, almost vibrating from the impact. You knew the slap was hard enough for blood to come through.

Fuck.

You figured you were screwed, if you knew he was gonna grab you like that you would've just duct taped him to the coach. You really did not think this one through, even though you had been thinking about it for months on end.

You felt his body heat centimeters away from you. Looking up at him, he hovered over you.

"Thank you for finally giving me a reason to do that." He said, his tone spilling venom. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

You just stared at him, you weren't scared or upset. You couldn't even be mad, you just attempted to strangle your sisters husband. What could've been expected? You probably didn't have a great chance of succeeding anyway, but you couldn't fight your urges anymore.

People like him deserved death.

You didn't have time to process another thought before Ian picked you up, throwing you against the wall. You yelped as your side impacted harshly against the wood floor. You didn't even want to look at him anymore, you had failed and were probably gonna die, or get beat into a coma.

You didn't feel him grab you again. You didn't feel him pin you against the wall. You didn't feel the corner of the table next you digging into your side. You didn't feel anything. Not even the tears falling from your eyes.

"Don't cry now darling," He whispered in your ear, you shuddered in disgust. "This is what you wanted."

His voice made you want to vomit. Cigarettes and cheap beer leaking off his tongue. Even with him up to your ear, you could smell it. He was so fucking close. Everything about this man made you sick. You couldn't understand how your sister slept beside this thing at night.

He held your body against his while he shifted his hands. They wrapped around your throat and squeezed, very hard. You couldn't breathe. You wanted to just let it happen but your body was thinking ahead of you, once again. You grabbed his hands, trying to pry him off.

You actually couldn't fucking breathe. You were going to die, staring into this mans lifeless eyes, hearing his heaving breathing...his body pressed against yours. You would rather get stabbed to death. Or burned alive. You just didn't want him to be the last thing you saw before you died. You didn't want to die.

I fucked up.

Maybe you were selfish too. You were better off just hurting yourself to ease the pain. You couldn't get him off you and it was painful. Your vision was starting to blur.

You used your feet to try and push him off you, but your attempts failed.

Unexpectedly, you fell to the floor with a thud. You quickly inhaled a large breath of air, a small coughing spell following. You couldn't hear or see anything in that moment, just trying to get up, desperately trying to regain your strength.

Breathing had never felt so good.

Weak and in pain, you used one hand to guide your way up the wall, while the other one held your throat. As you regained your vision and started to focus on your surroundings, you began to hear struggling. Lots of struggling. You were confused, you thought it was just the both of you. As you looked up, you noticed a cloaked figure on top of Ian.

Billy had gotten into the house from your laundry room window, finding the entrance a few days ago when he was planning how he would kill you. He crept in, being as quiet as a ghost. When he turned the corner, he saw Ian pressing you deep against the wall. He watched you struggle and fight, a few tears falling from your eyes.

He tackled your brother in law to the floor, making him lose his grip on you. Billy managed to gain the upper hand quickly, getting on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat. Ian kicked his legs, but it did no good. Billy was too far up on his chest, sinking all his body weight onto him.

You stood there and watched. You were confused and shocked on what was happening, on where this guy came from. You looked down, noticing a knife next to the person in the black cloak. You begin to panic a little inside, wondering whether this person was saving your life or here to take you both out.

It only then hit you that the knife and the black costume seemed way too familiar.

Oh shit...It can't be.

Was this, The Ghostface?

From what you and the rest of Woodsboro knew, that killer who committed all those murders years ago was supposed to be dead. So what was he doing here?

You snapped back into reality when you heard Ian trying to speak. Looking at the both of them, you saw Ian's arms swing violently once again. Billy had managed to dodge most the swings, his arms steadily pressing down on Ian's throat. He did take a few hits to the face though, but he had been through worse.

It wasn't until he started reaching for the mask.

Billy could only lean back so far, if he tried anymore Ian would gain the upper hand in a matter of seconds. He usually didn’t care, since they were going to be dead anyway, but he wasn’t going to kill you.

You noticed what was happening, even with Ghostface's back turned to you. You slowly crept your way towards them, until you could see Ian's face again.

His eyes were wide as plates and his skin looked tight as the killer pushed down on his throat. Ian's eyes snapped to you, making Billy turn his head a little to see you in his peripheral vision. You could tell by the look in Ian's eyes that he wanted your help.

Tough shit.

You slowly walked around the two, Ian was convinced you were gonna help him, beginning to reach for the mask again, fingers brushing the mouth, trying to find a grip. You kneeled, grabbing Ian's arms, pinning him down. Your gazed flickered towards the mask killer, to find he was already looking in your direction.

You decided to flash him a smile. Though you couldn't see behind that mask, Billy had the same expression.

You lowered your body down, until your mouth was leveled with Ian's ear. He was trying to fight against you, but he had no more strength. He was done for.

"See you in hell, fat shit." You spoke into his ear.

Gargles could only be heard, and the hockey game playing on the tv was basically non existent. The life Ian once had, was now gone. You slowly stood up, ghostface doing the same. You both looked at his lifeless body.

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, or start running.” You said, letting out a laugh. It hurt like hell to speak. Your eyes moved to the masked killer and once again, he was already looking at you.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t back up, and for some reason you didn’t feel afraid. Billy reached out his hand, lightly touching your throat.

You weirdly didn’t mind the feeling, you weren’t scared of his touch, in fact, it was very gentle.

His hand trailed up, cupping the cheek that had been slapped. His thumb lightly rubbed your cheek and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Thank you.” You told him, but he didn’t say anything. You knew he couldn’t speak, he wasn’t gonna let you find out who he was. If you recognized the voice or didn’t there was still a chance.

A car pulling up into the driveway made you and Billy snap your attention to the front of the house. He looked at you once again, seeing the fear in your eyes. He had to help you out some more, and you couldn’t be awake for it to work.

“I’m sorry.” Billy lowly mumbled, before knocking you unconscious.

#slasher x reader #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #slasher fanfiction #scream #slasher fucker

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v-hope · 4 years ago

Text

One Way Ticket

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (ft. Yeontan bc Family)

Genre: Flufffff, established relationship, long distance relationship (not for long), and like, slight angst at the beginning if you squint your eyes and do a backflip

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Long distance relationships are never an easy thing, and although you and Taehyung had managed to make it work for four years and were used to not seeing each other that much already, he couldn’t help but feel like his birthday was ruined at the news of you being stuck at the airport due to a bad weather flight delay. However, although things didn’t quite go to plan, it only took for you to arrive two hours before the day was over for it to be his happiest of birthdays so far.

A/N: Hellooo, well, obviously this is for my man’s birthday 🥳💝 This story takes place in my Red Flags series’ timeline since one of you requested it and I thought it would be really cute, but you don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on here. I hope you guys enjoy! please let me know your thoughts~

“You were supposed to be here today” Taehyung reminded you, unconsciously tightening his hold on the phone as his low voice did a good job at letting you know just how upset he was.

You sighed, that alone letting him know you weren’t having a good time with said fact that was just not happening anymore either. “I can’t control the weather, love…”

Now, he knew that. Of course he knew that. But right then, he really fucking wished you did control the weather. That way you wouldn’t be stuck in another continent still due to a snowstorm that had delayed, if not cancelled, all flights that week — a stupid snowstorm that was keeping you away from him for longer than you should have.

It was a joke. It had got to be a joke.

That was what Taehyung kept telling himself throughout the whole phone call, and continuing to believe —to wanting to believe— so even after you hung up.

You were supposed to arrive that night. That had been the plan all along. All his schedule he had rearranged so he could make sure that particular night he would spend with you. Just you and him. Since the very next day, also known as his birthday, he would have to go to rehearsal for BTS’ presentation on the 31th like every other year, he was looking forward the most to this night. He had it all planned out. Your flight would arrive at 8pm, he would pick you up and then the two of you would have dinner together back at your —now— shared place. You would wait up until midnight, have some cake afterwards, and then stay up late so you could, well, catch up on a few coupley things you had been missing out on for a good while now. After all, you had not seen each other in nearly five months.

It was funny, how he used to always say he would never be able to do long distance relationships when he was younger, yet here he was now, four years —and going strong— into one. It was hard as hell, he could not deny it, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way, not as long as he got to be with you in the end. And at the end of the day it was all worth it, for you had finally graduated uni back home, managed to find a job in Seoul, and were now moving in with him like the two of you had agreed on a long time ago, once you realised you were most definitely sticking together for as long as your lives allowed you to. So, even if he had to wait a little longer to see you, this time it was different, for you had only gotten a one way ticket, and he would never again have to drop you off at the airport and cling on to you like his life depended on it, somehow being harder for him to let go of you as the years went by.

Nevertheless, it sucked. Right then, it really fucking sucked. Five months had gone by without seeing you already and turns out he would now have to wait one or even two more days than planned? Bullshit. And that if he was being optimistic, because he swore to God he would lose his shit if you had to spend New Years Eve on a plane, alone. Not like you were spending it together to begin with either, since he had that thing to attend to, but you would at least have a good time with some of the friends you had made during the time you had stayed in Seoul for your uni’s exchange program, and who had now invited you over to a party you had oh-so-excitedly told him about.

That night, Taehyung went to bed late. Still wanting to believe with everything in him you were just pulling a prank on him like you loved to do every now and then, and that you would walk through the front door anytime with that tired face of yours after the long ass flights to Korea he was so used to by then — the same exhausted face that would light up as a bright smile took over your factions instead at the sight of him.

However, that night, you did not make it home. What you did make it to instead, was to be the first one to congratulate him on his day. Over the phone, yes, with the airport’s background noise and not in person like he had wanted to, yet there you were being once again the first one to do so, at exactly 00:00. And somehow, that alone was enough to make him happy before going to sleep. Not as happy as he would’ve been with getting to sleep with you in his arms, of course, but happy nevertheless.

He did not lose faith, though. The next morning, as he got ready to head out to rehearsal, he kept glancing at his apartment’s door over and over, still waiting for it to burst open anytime and for you to walk inside right after.

When that didn’t happen, he looked forward to the moment his members brought him his birthday cake as they waited in the dressing rooms for their turn to rehearse. Now, the guys hadn’t told him they were bringing him cake, but after all these years it was pretty much a given. And it would only make sense that you were there, right? Whether it was bringing the cake to him as everyone in the room sang the traditional birthday song to him, or showing up as a surprise right after.

Once that didn’t happen either, he couldn’t hide his disappointment anymore — still being grateful to everyone else for trying to make his special day a memorable one, yet not being able to fully enjoy it without you there. Even falling in the cliché of wishing for you to be there as he blew out the candles. That was truly all he wanted, after all.

And once his schedule for the day was finally cleared up, his last hope was walking into the apartment that night and seeing you already there waiting for him.

Again, that didn’t happen.

Biting the inside of his cheek as he walked into an empty apartment, although Yeontan was there to excitedly welcome him back home and had managed to bring a weak smile to his face, he couldn’t help but feel his eyes well up with tears. Telling himself over and over how stupid it was to be upset over something neither of you could control, he contemplated calling you for a few seconds, shaking that thought off with a tilt of his head and deciding to go take a hot shower instead. No matter how bad he wanted to, if he did call you, he knew for sure he would end up being even more upset than he already was, and then you would end up being upset as well, and that he did not want.

Not even bothering on drying his hair later that night, he changed into his pyjamas and called Tan to go keep him some company like it was usual by then. Watching the fluffy dog make himself comfortable on the mattress, Taehyung turned the lights off so he could get into bed for once and for all — wanting nothing but to sleep that day off so you would hopefully be there by the morning. Although it would no longer be his birthday, he wished he could at least get to spend some time together before he had to head out once again.

Before he could completely doze off, however, he felt Yeontan snap up from his sleep and effusively wave his tail from side to side as he ran to the closed door of the bedroom. Letting out a tired groan, Taehyung glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, staring at the number ten on it for a second before he turned the lamp on and fixed his eyes on his excited pup.

“I already fed you,” his voice came out hoarse at the lack of speaking, catching Tan’s attention for a second there before he was back at barking at the door. “Don’t tell me you want to go to the b—”

That’s when the sound of a key making it inside the front door’s lock caught his attention. And, you see, only two people had a key to the apartment. One was his, of course, and the other one, much to his excitement right then, was yours.

Not even having time to catch his breath, he jumped off the bed and opened the bedroom’s door, watching Yeontan sprint down the already illuminated hallway as you had just turned its lights on — a huge smile parting his lips at the sight of you, not being able to hold back a giggle of his at the way you had panicked and closed the door harder than you had intended to, so Tan wouldn’t be able to run out of the apartment.

“Tan-ie bean!” you excitedly greeted the pup first thing as he reached your side.

Struggling to move past your suitcase, you managed to kneel down to pet the cute ball off fluff with one hand as you held the other one as far up as you could, holding a strawberry cupcake with a single candle on it that you had already lit up right before coming in — maybe not your brightest of ideas.

Staring up at your boyfriend, who was still on the other end of the hallway, you smiled brightly and stood up straight as he came closer. “Happ—”

Before you could even finish what you had initially planned to sing and had by then settled for cheerfully chanting instead, Taehyung had already pulled you into his arms — unintentionally blowing out the candle as he had rushed over to you way faster than he’d like to admit.

“I missed you” he mumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around your figure and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he felt his heart at ease.

You smiled sweetly, wrapping your arms around him as well —being careful enough not to stain his designer pyjamas with the cupcake’s icing— and pressing down a small kiss to his shoulder.

“I missed you, too” you cooed, hearing him giggle when you planted a kiss on his neck this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting on a plane already?”

“Because I thought I would get here before you came back from rehearsal and I’d surprise you. You know, wait for you with dinner and whatnot…” you pouted. “But then of course I had trouble with my luggage and got here way too late. So I got you a cupcake and a candle instead!”

Taehyung giggled at the way you had ever so cheerfully said that last part, pulling slightly away from your body so he could glance at the cupcake in your hand you had just raised up in a victorious way.

“You could’ve just showed up barehanded, said ‘happy birthday’, and I would’ve been the happiest”.

“You interrupted me when I was about to tell you ‘happy birthday’, though” you huffed over dramatically.

Letting out a light laugh, he securely cupped your face in his warm hands and rested his forehead on yours, smiling blissfully as ever at how close he was able to have you right then, at how he was able to feel your warmness in his hands after all those months. “You can say it again now”.

“But you already blew out the candle” you pouted, bringing the treat closer to him so he could see your point.

“I guess this is the moment my wish comes true then”.

“You didn’t even get to make a wish, you idiot” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I did” he nodded his head determinedly. “Earlier today. And not to brag about it, but it already became true”.

“Was it perhaps for me to arrive today?” you coyly batted your eyelashes, earning a very visible roll of eyes from him.

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, taking a step back from him and his hold. “I can always go back home and send your actual wish ov—”

“Yah,” he stopped you as you dramatically turned around to pretend to leave and Yeontan followed right after, pulling you back to him by your wrist. “I didn’t spend pretty much my entire birthday wishing for you to get here so you can leave me just like that” his eyes turned softer, yet still held that playful vibe in them. “Besides,” he pulled you closer, this time by your waist. “Funny how you said ‘go back home’ when this is your home now, baby” your heart skipped a beat at his remark, appreciating the way he looked up and puckered his lips as he pretended to fall deep in thought. “Hm… Maybe I misheard”.

You giggled at the way he had copied your overdramatic ways, bringing your free hand up to sweetly caress his cheek. “My bad, love”.

Taehyung smiled, with that boxy smile you fell in love with years ago, and nodded softly to let you know it was alright. “Can I get my birthday kiss now?” he murmured, ever so faintly brushing his longing lips against yours. “I’m kinda dying over here”.

Shaking your head in amusement as you laughed, you bit your lower lip. “Just kiss me already, you dork”.

So he did, not even dreaming of wasting another second before his lips hungrily crashed against yours. He had missed you like crazy, he always did, but right then, as your soft lips were pressing on his and your hand made its way from his cheek to the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his still damp hair, he realised just how bad he had craved your touch, how bad he had craved you.

Having him deepen the kiss, you couldn’t help but take one step back as you had lost your balance — his hand being quick to bring your body right back to press against his, later resting on your lower back to keep you steady as his other hand firmly cupped your cheek.

“Happy birthday” you mumbled against his mouth when you had pulled away to catch your breath, feeling the corners of his lips curve up before he pressed them to yours once more.

“It is now” he hummed, drawing tender circles with his thumb on your chin and not being able to hold back a giggle when it was you the one to steal a kiss from his mouth right then.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hands made their way down your body, letting out a squeal when they grabbed your thighs and picked you up without a warning — your arms wrapping tightly around his neck and legs around his waist as his hands were firmly placed on your ass to keep you from slipping down while he walked the two of you out of the hallway and into the living room, having Yeontan run past you two and go lie on the couch.

“Yah, I just got here and you’re already going for second base?” you teased him with raised eyebrows.

Taehyung shook his head, cockily raising one of his own. “I’ve earned my right to all bases a long time ago, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Don’t get too cocky, Kim Taehyung” you warned him as he sat you down on the edge of the counter, being careful enough not to knock down one of the pictures of the two of you that were neatly displaying on it. “I might revoke all your rights”.

“You wouldn’t” he daringly squinted his eyes. “Not on my birthday”.

You threw your head back, letting out a loud laugh and placing the cupcake down on the counter before you went back to his eye level. “Only under two hours until it’s over, so...”

“You wouldn’t” he repeated confidently.

“What makes you so sure, old man?”

Shaking his head in amusement and deciding not to comment on the taunting name you had just called him, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk that was curving up the corners of his lips as he leaned in. “I just know”.

Not even trying to play it hard anymore, you met his lips in the middle, humming contentedly when he placed his hand behind your neck so he could take control over the kiss he was not quite willing to let go of yet. And neither were you, which is why your eyes remained closed and your lips slightly puckered up —clearly wanting more— when he suddenly pulled away one minute later.

“Okay, now tell me my birthday present!” he demanded.

Still being too stunned by the intoxicating kiss he had just given you, it took you a second to open your eyes after hearing his muffled yet excited words against your lips — eyes locking with his excited ones as his hands unconsciously rested on your thighs.

“Oh, it’s in my bag!” you jumped up once you managed to understand what he had meant. “Let me go get it”.

Although your words were meant for him to move aside so you could get up on your feet and rush over to the forgotten suitcase on the hallway, Taehyung did not move an inch — if anything, tightening the hold of his hands on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere.

“Not that one”.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “The cupcake?” you offered, earning a light laugh from him, along with a small shake of his head. “Sex? Because I know I was just threatening with revoking that right, but since it’s still your birthday, I mean...”

Taehyung laughed wholeheartedly, once again shaking his head no as he brought his face closer to yours. “Although I would love that and will take you up on that offer later,” his bold words managed to bring some heat to your cheeks. “That is not what I meant”.

“What did you mean then?”

“Just want you to tell me something...” he hinted, gently caressing your sides. “How long will you be staying, baby?”

You rolled your eyes when it finally hit you what he had meant all along. And you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at how such simple things were the ones that made him the happiest. “Well, considering I only got a one way ticket over here this time,” your heart sped up at the way his smile grew wider at the sound of that. “And that the rest of my stuff will arrive here in a few days… I’d say I’m staying for quite a long, long time”.

“How about forever?” he smiled brightly.

You giggled, tilting your head up in anticipation as you felt him lean in to press his mouth on yours. “I like the sound of that”.

“I love the sound of that” he agreed, pressing another kiss to your smiling lips.

And you truly did, for although you were leaving everything behind, your family, your childhood friends, your culture... it was easy as long as you had him. And even though you knew there would be times homesickness would hit you like a truck, especially when the time came and Taehyung would have to go on tour with his group, you were ready to start your new life here with him. You had already lived here once for a year, after all, the only difference being you now got to live with your long term boyfriend, and, of course, that you wouldn’t have to count down the days until you had to go back home and away from him anymore.

“Everything alright?” he wondered, catching up on the way you had momentarily spaced out.

“Mhm…” you were quick to reassure him with an eager nod of your head. “Now eat your birthday treat before I do” you threatened, grabbing the cupcake that had been lying next to you all along and bringing it up to his face.

Taehyung chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck that was sweetly followed by another one. “But I have my birthday treat right here…”

Although flustered by both his words and the way his lips kept peppering soft kisses all over the sensitive skin of your neck, you stood your ground. “Pretty sure I’m your girlfriend, but oh well”.

He chuckled once more — before you could react, dipping one of his long fingers on the icing and spreading a good amount of it on your lips. “Now you’re both”.

You didn’t really get to fully laugh at his playful antics before the sound of it was muffled by his mouth sucking on your bottom lip, his fingers holding onto your chin to keep you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss — making sure to remove every last trace of icing on your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Breaking the kiss for a brief second for what he thought was to catch your breath before bringing your already swollen lips back to his awaiting ones, he found himself letting his jaw drop when you opened your mouth not to kiss him once more, but to bring the infamous cupcake up to it and loudly bite down on it.

“Yah, that is my strawberry cupcake!” he called you out — although trying to act mad, having a hard time hiding his smile at the way you had just covered your full mouth as you laughed whilst trying to chew right then.

“You weren’t eating it, so…” you shrugged.

Before you could take another bite, however, he grabbed your wrist, quickly moving it up to his mouth instead and shoving the entire baked good into it in just one go.

Petrified after what just happened, you stared at your now empty hand — amazed by the way he had managed not to bite into your fingers with how fast and forceful his mouth had been, before your eyes fixed on your full-mouthed boyfriend as he struggled to chew the whole thing down.

“Mine” he stated, not minding to cover his mouth as he was almost done with it already.

“I tend to forget how big your mouth actually is” you admitted, mindlessly sucking the remains of icing from off your fingers.

Taehyung scoffed, rushing to swallow down so he could properly speak. “You out of all people should know what my mouth can d—”

“You know,” you cut him off before he could pronounce that last letter and bring his cocky point across. “Booking a return plane ticket sounds really tempting right now”.

“Oh, yeah?” he tauntingly raised one of his eyebrows, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Good thing from now on those return tickets will bring you right back to Seoul”.

That was what made him the happiest. After all those years of buying ticket after ticket, all those years of having to drop you off at the airport so you could go back home, all those years of having to wait for endless months just so you could see each other for a few days, all of that, was over now.

From that night on, this was your home. You, him and Yeontan, and of course, the eventual additions that would be made in a couple of years.

And that was the best part. No matter where you travelled to from now on, you would always just go visit abroad and return right here, back to him — never again being almost about to miss his birthday, for you would both go to sleep and wake up right next to him during all the upcoming ones, just like he had ached you to do every single day ever since you got together four years ago.

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miekasa · 4 years ago

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your dad!levi headcanons made my day. would you happen to have any thoughts about dad!eren?🥺

Unfortunately... I do 🤒🤒 he’d be such a determined but fun dad, like I don’t think he'd be completely lax, but he's not an authoritarian either, but he definitely butts heads with his kids when they get a little older and more rambunctious, and you gotta remind him to be patient with them because... because they're exactly how he was when he was 8 😭😭

He was stupid excited when he found out you were gonna have kids. Like, way more excited than you thought he’d be; you’ve maybe mentioned kids in passing or casually, and he was never negative about the prospect of them, but he had never shown this level of excitement before.

He gets even more excited when you find out you’re having twins. And then reality hits him that you’re having twins. That means two of them. At the same time. Yeah, he might have been excited about one, but two... the whole dad thing really kicks in right there.

He has this period of time where he’s definitely still supporting you and being positive throughout your pregnancy, but then he’ll lay awake at night scared shitless of the fact that he’s gotta raise two kids. He starts freaking out so bad, Mikasa has to slap some sense into him.

He’s losing it one night at her place, completely having a downward spiral of doubt and anxiety, going off about what ifs and how maybe you’d be better with someone else being a dad to them and Mika literally slaps him to shut him up. “You are going to be a dad to those kids, and you’re gonna be a good one, too, Eren. Nobody’s saying you won’t fuck up, but you’ll have help along the way.”

He feels better after that (his cheek hurts like hell for two days tho), and the reassurance from Mikasa and you really does help, and he’s back on track to bouncing off the walls about having kids.

Obsessed with the concept of baby clothes (“Babe, are they really gonna be this tiny??”), but he doesn’t understand the sizing of them. Is there really that big of a difference between four month olds and ten month olds?? He hasn’t grown that much in six months, why would they??

Don’t even get him started on baby shoes, he thinks those are completely ridiculous: “Their toes are gonna be the size of my pupils, why would we put shoes on them?? That’s dumb, we’ll just get those fuzzy socks to keep em warm when they’re cold, I don’t wanna squash their growing toes.”

He cries when he holds them for the first time, because, they are, predictably, tiny. Tinier that he ever could have thought imaginable; he can hold is son and his daughter with one hand each and it’s an incredibly tender and heartwarming and humbling thing to him.

He literally cried more than you throughout the whole delivery, too. He was a complete emotional wreck; happy and jittery one moment, anxious and nervous the next, crying no matter what, and yeah, he might have passed out once or twice, but don’t mention it.

Gives the twins a “house tour” when you take them home from the hospital, narrating it every bit of the way. He holds them both to his chest, slowly parading around your house like, “And this is the kitchen, and this is the fridge where we keep your baby mush. It tastes bad, I tried it, but hopefully you’ll like it.”

Your daughter looks like you, but also like Carla; and your son has damn near all of Eren’s features, and they both got his green eyes (lucky them). Eren is obsessed, and loves playing peek-a-boo with them.

When his paternity leave is up, he figured he’d go back to work first and leave you at home with the kids to give you more time to rest and let your body have more time to adjust after giving birth. Half-way through his first day back, he calls out early under the pretenses of being sick because he misses you guys that much.

He calls out sick for the remainder of the week too, and finally by Friday he sits down with you and is like, “I know we said I would go back to work first but I don’t think I can do it, babe. I wanna stay and hang out with them all day before they’re too big and have to go to school.”

And that, is essentially, how Eren comes to the conclusion that he wants to be a stay at home dad. It doesn’t surprise you, or anyone really, it was only a surprise to himself; but it was a surprise to him that nobody else was surprised.

“What do you guys mean you ‘saw this coming?’” he questions you, Mikasa, and Armin sporadically, “I could have gone back to work if I wanted to!!” To which, you look around at his friends, before Armin finally speaks up, a slight roll to his eyes, “Eren, you can hardly leave them with me or Mikasa for two hours. How did you expect to make it through the work day.”

When they get a bit older, he’s the champ of playing games with them. Acts out the most dramatic “deaths” when he gets shot by a Nerf gun, becomes the most convincing doctor when playing fake hospital, and has learned a pretty damn impressive Mickey Mouse impression to entertain them.

It’s your daughter that turns out to get most of Eren’s... determined personality. She might only be three years old, but she can argue with him as if she graduated from law school, and swears he never wins with her. How could he; it’s like arguing with himself, please they both stomp away and have to cool down after.

They make up pretty quick tho, because Eren hates it when they’re mad in general, much less mad at him or you; and he sulks to you, borderline whining about how he doesn’t want her to hate him. You reassure him that she does not hate him, she’s just... feisty like he is.

It’s her twin brother that consoles and calms her down, because he’s the more tame of the two. By the time Eren’s knocking on the door to their room to talk it out and apologize, she’s already knocked out, leaning up against her brother as they both take a nap. (It’s a sight that could bring him to tears, and he slowly closes the door and goes to cuddle up to you, while he waits for them to finish napping).

He absolutely loves to lift them up, and even has they get bigger, he insists they’ll never be too big for him to hold them. Both he and the twins get a kick out of having them hang off his arms while he spins around in a circle like a little human sprinkler.

Family picnics and/or beach days happen often, and more often than not, it ends up with Eren and the kids coercing (see: pulling) you to the water or to play with them.

By the end of the day, Eren’s laying on the blanket lazily eating a sandwich hich you’d packed earlier, with his son sat criss-cross on his stomach. He teases him by airplaining the sandwich near his mouth, only to take a bite of it himself after, because he adores the betrayed exclaimation of “Daddy! No fair!” Eren’s always sure to give him a bite for real after, and a little kiss on the head to make up for it.

Your daughter sits in your lap, half-asleep, even tho moments before she was oh-so determined to play volleyball against her dad again (“And I’m gonna win, mommy, watch! Daddy’s tall, but I can win!”)

He lets them draw/color/paint on his back. He’ll just lay down on a blanket in the living room and let them go to town. Face painting, too, though that’s for when they’re a bit older; he learns the hard way that a two year old can have pretty rough hands.

The complete and utter disappointment and betrayal in his eyes when he hears your son proclaim that he thinks Jean is “cool.” Eren has to take a lap, he can’t believe his own kin would say some shit like that.

Your daughter loves Mikasa, thinks she’s the absolute best person in the world, and always asks if she can be the one to babysit. They both like Armin, too, but Armin’s gotta stay away from your son for a bit because for whatever reason, his blonde hair is very amusing to him, and the kid’s got a pretty strong grip. (“Stop bullying your Uncle Armin, it’s not his fault he’s blonde.”)

You often catch him doing push ups with either one or both of them on his back, and the kids fucking love it. They’re cheering him on, counting completely out of order about the amount of push-ups he’s done, and clapping every time he comes up again. It becomes his favorite workout.

He swears they’re his best friends and his favorite people in the entire world. He does everything with them: getting the oil changed in his car, going to the store, picking up the mail. He just loves being around them and swears he’s gonna be the best dad for them.

#anonymous #I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT I DONT!!!!#no no but his daughter IS him and he gets so frustrated and you gotta be like eren babe..... you cant boo her she is you #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader

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hstyleshoney · 3 years ago

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Loves Me Loves Me Not - part two preview

I dunno if anyone is interested in this but I thought I’d post it just for fun. I’m struggling a little at the moment but I’m getting there. Hopefully someone is excited for the second part and finds this fun hehe. Drop a little feedback please, it does help with motivation a lot <3

AU - grumpy bartenderry

If you haven’t read the first part you can do so HERE

While they waited for their food and drinks to be prepared Y/N tried to think of something she could use against him. They had been friends for years and Arlo wasn’t as smooth as he liked to think he was. She had stories. She just needed to think of something good.

And maybe she would’ve remembered that time Arlo mistakenly got into someone else's car and almost got himself arrested if she hadn’t seen the tall figure on the other side of the street. Instead she lost all train of thought and watched through the windows as Harry looked both ways before crossing the road. He was approaching the small coffee shop with determined steps, and he was getting closer a little too fast for her liking.

“Shit,” Y/N swore and looked around frantically for somewhere to hide. “I’m not here!”

“What? What are you d-” She didn’t let Arlo finish what he was saying before she threw herself down to hide in the small aisle between the counters. “Y/N!”

“Shut up,” she hissed just as the door to the small shop opened. Arlo glanced behind him to see who entered andY/N watched as her friend realised what was happening. Arlo’s lips twisted into a smirk and he glanced down at her with devious eyes.

Y/N squeezed her own eyes shut as her forehead fell forward against the counter with a small thud, praying she would somehow magically disappear. She never should’ve left BLOOM.

“Hello, I’m Arlo,” she heard her friend introduce himself after a couple of seconds of silence.

An older couple from across the room, who were just trying to enjoy their own lunch, looked over at her where she sat crouching down with confused frowns. She tried to give them a smile but also realised nothing was going to save the situation she had gotten herself into.

In a perfect world Harry would be as reserved as he had previously been; he would just get himself a cup of coffee and leave without entertaining her stupid friend.

But since luck wasn’t on her side Y/N didn’t really have much hope.

Small drops of sweat formed on her forehead as she sat hidden. Her ears were ringing and her heart pounding while she listened to her friend go on. Why did she not just stick with her plan? It had been going so well all week. Stay at BLOOM, go straight home after work and don’t go to White Deer or wander around town. It was three simple steps. Stupid Arlo for making her go out for lunch with him.

“You work with Ruby yeah? She’s a good friend of mine,” Arlo continued even though he still hadn’t gotten a reply from the tight-lipped bartender. “Oh, and I think you know one of my other friends too. Her name is Y/N.”

She felt her whole body run cold at the mention of her name.

Stupid fucking Arlo.

#Harry Styles fan fiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles imagine

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady.

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool.

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine.

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning.

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!”

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him.

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not.

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets.

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly.

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched.

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples.

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant.

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great.

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet.

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first.

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak!

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke.

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly.

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease.

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time.

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before.

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#btsghostie #bts social media au #bts smau #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

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randomperson351 · 3 years ago

Text

Bittersweet - DH. (Requested - Part 1.)*

Summary: A long to and fro of the story between Derek and Stella and how they came to be through ups and downs.

Notes: This was requested by one of my wattpad people _stellastyless, I hope you like it! If anyone has any requests, you can message me! Also yes, there will be a part two.

Bit of smut in the middle.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my work. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist

"Stiles, Scott! Hurry up or I'm gonna be late!" Stella hollered from her car window as she waited for the two hyperactive maniacs to finish chatting and get in her car.

Stella was Stiles' cousin and the two were practically inseparable, being only children, and the fact she was currently living with Stiles at his house while she was figuring out her future. Stella was a couple of years older than Stiles and Scott which apparently meant she was more trustworthy to bring the two boys home, hence why she was picking them up from school.

"Okay we're coming, God!" Stiles exclaimed, hoping into the passenger seat and putting his seatbelt on, Scott doing the same in the back.

"Where are you going anyway?" Scott asked, being so close with Stiles naturally meant a two for one deal with his best friend, Scott becoming almost like a second brother to you.

"Yeah where are you going that's so interesting at 4 o'clock? The elderly citizens bingo hall club?" Stiles asked sarcastically and laughed to himself at his own joke while Scott shook his head and smiled a little at his friend's antics.

"No actually I'm going round Lydia's house to show her my new underwear set I'm wearing, hope that's not a problem?" She replied equally as sarcastically as Stiles while making direct eye contact with him when they were stopped at a red light.

Stiles looked over at his cousin with a face of stone and merely said, "That's not funny," in a serious tone, not even looking over to chastise Scott about laughing at Stella's response and not his or to tell her to shut up after looking over at him with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Derek's coming round after school for a pack meeting, are you staying long enough for that?" Scott asked from the backseat.

Stella curled her lip in slight disgust at the thought of having to see Derek's stupid face, his stupid handsome face, his stupidly handsome face.

"I don't know, I'll see when I'm ready to leave."

The rest of the drive home was fairly uneventful, Scott and Stiles stuck in their own world of conversation while Stella thought about what to wear tonight, she was going to a party at a local club; might meet someone, have some fun, hopefully.

They made it to Stiles' house in one piece, just about, and they split off in their separate directions.

"Alright idiots, I'm off to get ready. Don't destroy the house or set anything on fire cause then I'm getting the blame." She warned them playfully, going up the stairs to her own room while the boys went straight to the cupboards and fridge to source food.

23 outfits on the floor, 4 makeup wipes and two hours later, Stella was ready. She collected her things in a matching clutch to her outfit and started down the stairs where her friends were waiting for her outside.

"Bye Stiles, bye Scott, good luck at the meeting!" She called through to where they were doing various detective works in the lounge.

"Bye, have a good time!" Scott yelled through waving her goodbye. Stiles looked up from where he was grossly staring at his laptop and squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do. If anyone at all touches you, get a description and I'll get Scott to beat their ass and then Dad will arrest them." Stiles threatened.

"I won't do that if it's a woman though, if you don't mind." Scott interrupted Stiles sheepishly.

"What why?-" Stiles flicked his head so fast to stare at Scott in betrayal they were all surprised he didn't have whiplash- "What happened to equality of the genders?"

"I'm still not hitting a woman Stiles!" Scott exclaimed.

"Even if they hit Stella?" Stiles interrogated his best friend relentlessly.

"Okay, bye then!" Stella fit in before Scott could launch a tirade of arguments against Stiles defending himself and pointing out "If I just go up and hit a woman, I'll be the one getting arrested!" and Stiles saying, "If it was a woman dipped in salsa and guacamole you wouldn't be saying that, all your little werewolfy senses would be on fire; you and your obsessive love of Mexcian food!"

~~~~A few hours in after Stella left, she's at the party with her friends.~~~~

Stella was getting exhausted. She had been partying, dancing and drinking for two hours straight. She weaved her way through the crowd and went to order a drink; at this point she wasn't completely drunk, just a little buzzed.

That could not be said for everyone at the party though. This weird guy had been following her, what he thought was subtly but actually constituted running into bushes and knocking piles of drinks over, since she arrived. So when she left the safety of her friends, he thought it was his time to strike.

"Hey baby." He said, slinking up next to her and trying to put an arm around her, but failing miserably. Stella let out an aggravated sigh at seeing the same guy again.

"Dude seriously, fuck off! I can literally make it no clearer to you." She took her drink and walked around, trying to loose the guy who was still following her, and find her friends or someone that would scare him off.

He's still following her when she spots someone that might be able to help; however, he might be even worse.

Derek Hale.

Every fibre in her body was screaming to keep walking in the opposite direction to the both of them, since Derek had now turned and made eye contact with her, perhaps after smelling her anger and panic mixed with her regular perfume. But the weird guy was now getting closer and seemed even more aggressive now that she'd made a point of trying to get rid of him, so she really only had one choice.

Her footsteps led her across the room and her heartbeat increased considerably in hesitation and worry, what if this didn't work?

Stella reached out and linked her fingers with Derek's, causing him to furrow his eyebrows but not pull away, maybe smelling her hesitation.

"Just play along, please." She pleaded in a whisper, looking up to him first and then darting her eyes to look at the guy, seeing that he'd followed her all the way to Derek.

Unfortunately, Derek had followed Stella's eyeline after smelling the underlying and rising panic in her chemo-signals and hardened his stare as he realised what was happening. Derek tightened his grip on Stella's hand and pulled her closer to him as the guy approached, making her stumble into his side and rest her hand on his chest to steady herself.

"Who's this Stel? You've never introduced us before?" Derek played, gesturing towards the stalker with a harsh glare thrown in at his direction. Stella immediately caught on to Derek's plan and played along just as convincingly.

"Oh I actually don't think I know your name, what was it again?" She asked pointedly.

"It's Jamie, who the hell is this guy?" He motioned with his head towards Derek but stopped himself from coming any closer to them.

"This is my..." Stella faltered, she didn't know whether Derek would kill her for saying he was her boyfriend or whether he thought this was just a friends thing. Apparently, and luckily, Derek caught on to her sudden apprehension and continued her sentence for her.

"Boyfriend, Derek. And from what I've seen tonight you've taken quite an interest in Stella here." Derek pointed out with withering patience. Something must have shown itself more prominently in Derek's face because Jamie started backing away from them a few small steps at a time like he was trying to do it without them noticing.

"Hey man chill, I didn't realise she had a boyfriend I was just trying to get to know her a little. That's all." Apparently Jamie's sobriety was now coming back to him all of a sudden.

"Well how about this, Jamie-" Derek started, moving forwards to get closer to him making Stella's hand drop from his chest (she was a little mortified she'd let it stay there for so long without realising) but kept his hand tightly interlocked with hers- "You go around here or any party for that matter and try to 'get to know' anyone and I hear about it; I'll rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek showed his glowing red Alpha eyes to firmly get the point across which worked well considering Jamie ran so fast it's a surprise there wasn't a trail of smoke following him.

Derek turned back to Stella with his usual firm expression and looked down, making Stella follow his gaze and see they still had their hands together. It seemed reality kicked in for both of them at that moment and they separated like each others touch stung them.

"Uh thanks, for that I mean." It seemed to be a Stilinski trait to ramble when they were nervous, Stella sounding worryingly like Stiles when she spoke then.

"It's no problem." Derek replied stoically in his classic Derek way. Silence wafted over them as neither quite knew what to say to each other; up until tonight their exchanges in conversation were bitter remarks and hurtful insults.

"Uh would you like to go and get a drink maybe? With me, I mean. It's totally cool if you don't want to I completely understand I was just wondering if-"

"Oh my God you are so related to Stiles. Yes, I will go and get a drink with you as long as you stop the rambling, such a Stilinski." Derek whispered the last part under his breath, leading the way through the crowd to a semi-secluded area of the bar and ordered them both a drink.

"Um excuse you but I think you'll find some people find the Stilinski ramble quite endearing!" Stella argued and sat down next to him, watching him roll his eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

"Do all these people happen to be deaf?" Derek retorted, nearly making Stella choke when she took a sip of her drink.

"The Derek Hale just used sarcasm in a conversation, what?! Since I'm so surprised I'll let the deaf comment slip for now."

Derek smirked and shook his head a little. It seemed he preferred this laid back conversation over the normal back and forth arguing between them.

"So what are you doing here anyway, Scott said you were meant to be at their pack meeting tonight?" She asked curiously, knowing what a bollocking both her and Stiles have gotten in the past just for being late, let alone not showing up at all.

"This is one of the only places where I can buy alcohol that actually gets me drunk." He explained, taking another drink.

Stella nodded her head in understanding and chugged the rest of her drink, Derek watching in surprise as she then calmly placed the glass back on the bar and waved the bartender down to order another.

~~~~A lot of drinks later.~~~~

"Okay so back to you," Derek said through a slightly intoxicated laugh, "why are you here getting drunk? Shouldn't you be helping Stiles crack some murder mystery?"

"Well actually Mr Hale, there are times when I like to forget and have a good time on my own instead of having Stiles, and occasionally Scott, breathing down my neck."

"Forget what?" Derek asked her quizzically, picking up on her use of present tense as well.

"My life dude, the plane crash." Stella blurted out, expecting Derek to know exactly what happened just by a brief selection of words.

"What plane crash?"

"The one my parents died in." The bomb dropped. Derek now looked suddenly serious as he watched Stella's face intricately for any reactions. "You've never wondered why I live with Stiles and Sheriff? I transferred around a lot afterwards, couldn't get settled in anywhere. It's kind of hard to when everyone who you think is your friend is just there because of pity; they were all fake. Same with any boyfriends, all ended badly when they couldn't put up with me anymore. But then, I moved here, Beacon Hills with Stiles and I've never been better. Its like I finally feel like I belong somewhere, you know? It feels like... I don't know, like..."

"Like home." He finished for her, knowing what feeling she was trying to convey. It was the same one he felt after coming back home after the fire.

"Yeah, you got it." She encouraged him, seemingly unaffected by the story because of the alcohol blinding her feelings.

"You want another drink? Its on me." Derek offered, waving down the bartender when Stella nodded her head yes with a dopey smile.

After that last drink, they left the party once Stella tracked down her friend and said she was leaving with Derek. Given that they were both drunk, Derek walked Stella back to his loft so that she didn't injure herself trying to walk back home (although the short walk to Derek's place was a little precarious at times). He had his arm wrapped around her middle so she was supported as she wobbled along, seemingly unworried in her own little world, just letting Derek lead the way.

It did somewhat surprise Derek that Stella didn't say anything when they reached his place, just followed him along and into the loft, taking off her uncomfortable shoes and sitting, literally, on the ground.

"Uh Stella, don't you think the bed would be more comfortable than the ground?" He offered.

"Well obviously, but I can't walk all the way over there. I'm much too tired." She yawned, stretching out her limbs like a tired kitten.

In response to Stella, and not wanting to trip over her in the night, Derek stooped down and picked her up, holding her under her legs and transferring her, and her shoes, to the bed; he gently placed her down once she let go of him.

"Thanks, D." She said quietly, looking up at him from her perched position.

"You're welcome." Derek sat next to her, keeping eye contact as he sat down.

A few seconds passed and Derek lifted his hand, tentatively placing it on Stella's clothed thigh. His eyes flitted to where his hand made contact with her leg for milliseconds before snapping back up to her eyes, only to find them already watching him.

Slowly he began stroking his hand up and down, fingers brushing her inseam as he went. Stella shuffled just a little closer, careful not to disrupt Derek's lovely ministrations. With his free hand, Derek reached up and moulded it around the side of Stella's face, pulling her close and flicking his eyes down to her full lips that he just needed to have against his.

"If we start this now," Derek barely whispered, looking deep into Stella's eyes,"I may not be able to stop later on."

"That's okay. I don't want you to."

"You're sure?" He checked again in a soft voice as to not break the moment, but was already leaning closer still and tilting his head, tempting her further to give in to him. His hand on her thigh was now moving more confidently upwards, getting closer and closer to the present ache she was beginning to feel there. "You're telling me, you want me to take your clothes off, revealing your beautiful skin to me, have me lick and kiss every new inch that gets exposed to my gaze, get you nice and relaxed with my tongue and fingers, then have me fuck you however you want until you cry. Is that what you're saying, Stella?"

Stella was breathing hard now but trying desperately not to let it show. She swallowed hard and regained herself a little, the buzz she felt from the alcohol giving her an extra edge of confidence. Her lips were so close to his, dying for a taste; all it took to connect their lips would be a cock of their heads at the right angle, that's all.

"Yes, I want you Derek." She whispered against him, feeling him smile at her words.

With his hand that was wrapped around Stella's face, Derek stretched his thumb to rest on her chin, pulling her closer still until their lips grazed, but didn't let them fully connect yet. Using his thumb, he pulled her chin down a little to separate her lips from where she had her mouth closed, moving forward and slotting his lips between hers to take Stella's bottom lip and suck on it, closing his eyes.

Stella caught up straight away, moulding her own mouth around his, reaching a hand up to hesitantly play in his hair; a little too hesitant for Derek's liking. He pulled away from her mouth only far enough to tell her "pull harder," and then dove straight back in.

One pull was all it took for Derek to loose his restraint, kissing her harder and pulling Stella into his lap, securing their crotches tightly together through the layers of clothing they wore and rutting upwards to create a marvellous friction that benefited the both of them. The hand previously on Stella's thigh travelled up to hold her waist tightly, holding her still and in place as they passionately kissed.

After not too long, Derek began removing clothes, starting with his classic leather jacket and Stella's small coat she'd worn, throwing them across the room somewhere. He didn't care where they landed, Derek was more focused on getting Stella's lips back on to his, which he promptly took care of.

Stella gasped at a particularly hard thrust up into her after she pulled on Derek's hair again, inducing her to pull her shirt off as fast as possible, to which Derek growled appreciatively at the sight and flung the both of them around so Stella's back landed on the bed, but managing to never disconnect their hips; the beauty of being an Alpha werewolf.

"How about we start on that list of things you wanted me to do to you, hmm?" Derek said tauntingly, leaning his body over Stella and pinning her in place with his weight. When he received a half-moaned half-whined yes he kissed a small channel through her chest and down to the top of her jeans, starting to undo them and tug them off with alarming ease.

Lets just say for the rest of the night, Derek talked the talk and walked the walk.

~~~~The morning after.~~~~

"Oh crap." Stella muttered to herself, holding Derek's bedsheet up to cover her chest. She looked around and saw her clothes thrown around the entire loft. Literally, all over the place.

Derek was sleeping like the dead next to her so she stealthily stood and began collecting and putting on her clothes, grabbing her clutch on her way to the loft door and gently squeezing through the little gap she made to leave.

It was a long walk home to her house and she spent the entire time in what felt like a trance state, remembering everything that happened last night and berating herself for getting drunk; in this town, she knew better.

Stella begrudgingly unlocked the front door, took two steps inside was immediately swarmed by Scott and Stiles who were stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Scott didn't really look like he wanted to be stood there but Stiles looked at her with faux disappointment in his features.

"And just where have you been all night missy?" Stiles started, looking suspiciously at her over his mug of coffee.

"How do you know I haven't been out for breakfast and come back?"

"Well for one, you're in the same clothes and I know if you would've come home you would've changed, and for two, bold of you to assume I actually went to sleep. I mean seriously..."

As Stiles rambled on about his distinct sleeping patterns Stella could see Scott sniffing the air, like he was looking for a scent. As discreetly as she could, Stella made small sharp shakes of her head at Scott so he wouldn't blurt something out about why her scent was different, specifically Derek Hale different.

Luckily Scott noticed her begging and nodded in agreement to not say anything. "Stiles! I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, but I'm super tired and I would like to sleep." Stella told him.

Stiles shrugged and went back to the kitchen to look for food while Stella took off up the stairs, reaching the comfort of her room and taking her shoes off as she sat on the bed. There was a knock at the door and Scott poked his head round, asking if he could come in. She beckoned him in and Scott sat next to her on her bed.

"Why do you smell like Derek?" Scott leapt straight in with the questioning, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"Well, he caught me walking home last night, I was pretty wasted and it was really late so he offered to let me stay at his place."

"That sounds very unlike Derek." Scott commented, never knowing Derek to even let him stay, and he was meant to be his adoptive beta-in-training.

"Yeah well, I guess I must've been pretty wrecked." Stella nodded her head, hoping silently Scott would take the hint and leave her be; which thankfully, he did.

After Scott left her room, she flopped back on the bed and sighed. She didn't know what her next interaction with Derek would be like, but some part of her hoped she got to see the casual, easy going Derek she was talking to last night.

~~~~A week later.~~~~

It turns out, Stella was not that lucky.

A few days after their encounter together Derek held a pack meeting at his loft where he was back to his usual brooding self; which Stella didn't mind considering everyone was there, its not like she was expecting him to leap up and bury her in a hug or anything.

So the meeting happened and everything was very professional, until Derek asked Stella to stay behind for a moment. He waited until all the wolves were out of listening range before turning back to Stella with an expression she knew all too well.

"It didn't mean anything." She guessed before Derek even opened his mouth. "Is that what you're about to tell me?"

Derek didn't reply like he was thinking of an excuse or something, so Stella went on.

"So where do we stand now, did it really mean nothing?" Again the Stilinski ramble burst through as soon as she got nervous.

"Why are you so upset over this?" Derek interrupted her questioning.

"Oh I don't know, I thought maybe you cared? That maybe you wanted something with feelings because we had sex and are going to be around each other with the pack and things? That you felt the same way I did?"

Derek turned around so he wasn't facing Stella when he started his speech. "I'm sorry you got that impression Stella, but I don't feel the same. You're just Stiles' irritating cousin to me, no more than a pack member."

Stella didn't say anything, she couldn't. All she could do was focus on her breathing. Derek could tell she was crying silently, could smell the salt of tears in the air and her distressed chemo-signals.

"So you're no different then," she spoke through a sniff, but kept her voice strong and stony, letting Derek now how much he hurt her. "Good to know."

Before Derek could do anything to try and get them on level ground again, Stella was out of the loft door and barrelling down the stairs, finally letting her tears go as she ran home.

Stiles came into her room that night after not seeing her for dinner, something Stella never missed, and went to check on her. Ever since she got home she'd gone straight up to her bedroom and shut the door, not even saying hello to the boys on the sofa. When Scott mentioned to Stiles he could smell how upset she was, Stiles panicked to say the least.

As soon as Scott left he ordered a bunch of Stella's favourite food and waited for it to arrive, hoping the food would coax her out of her room. But when he called up to let her know it arrived, she just said to start without her; that led them to now, Stiles stood outside her door and knocking quietly.

"Yeah?" He heard her muffled voice through the door.

"Can I come in? Its Stiles."

"Okay." She agreed.

Stiles walked in and saw his cousin wrapped up in her quilt like she hadn't moved since she got home.

"Hey Stell bell, missed you for dinner." He said as friendly as he could, approaching her cocooned form and sitting on her bed next to her.

"Sorry, didn't feel like eating." Stiles didn't need to have werewolf senses to hear the wavering voice and tell tale signs of crying no matter how much Stella wanted to hide it.

"Hey its okay, I left yours in the fridge for whenever you want it. So what happened?" Stiles asked, wanting to know immediately what or who had caused his cousin (in his mind though, sister) to cry.

"Nothing really, just some dick who I thought liked me like I liked him but it turns out he's no different. I guess I just really wanted him to be, you know?" Stella explained best she could without giving too many details away.

"Well maybe its best to not be with this guy if he is so much of a dick, maybe he's bad news that you should stay away from if he can hurt you this bad." Stiles suggested, rubbing Stella's back in comfort.

She wormed her head out of the layers of quilt she had covering her, looking up at Stiles.

"You know what, you're right. Thank you, Stiles." Stella sat up and hugged him tightly, Stiles returning it with just as much gusto.

"Anytime Stells, anytime. Now how about some Mario Kart and food binge?" He suggested, knowing the way to make her feel better by heart now.

Stella smiled broadly and nodded, getting up and following Stiles downstairs. If Derek didn't feel the same, so be it; Stella could go back to how they were before, not a problem.

Part 2

Part 3

#randomperson351 #derek hale #derek hale angst #derek hale oc #brief stiles stilinski #brief scott mccall #derek's a bit of a dick #implied smut #reader is stiles' cousin #derek hale x female oc #requested #derek hale x female reader #do not repost #bittersweet part 1

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