#this is to my mutuals but if it pops the bubble its fine at least we have more material

[ellavogues]

london sunrises - harry styles

summary: harry made you feel like home in a place far from it, but stupidly ruins it in fear of losing you

a/n: hey, second fic in two days! let me know your thoughtsss :) thanks for reading angels

Sometimes you wish you were seventeen again.

The carelessness, easy breezy lifestyle you lead was problematic and unproductive, but you never felt more free. Even now as an adult, unrestricted by menial rules made by your parents or your school, you don’t feel the same liberty as you felt when you were seventeen.

Maybe it was him that made you feel so free.

You met him at sixteen, when you moved countries from the USA to England. Originally pessimistic about the complete upheaval of your life, you took it upon yourself to not even try and socialise and familiarise yourself with people at your new school.

But one day, around a week after you moved, you were sat on the bus, headphones in your ear and gazing out the window as you waited for the bus driver to start the journey home, a brown, curly haired boy sat next to you, sporting a huge grin on his face.

“I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, extending his hand as if to ask you to shake it. “Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head, “Yeah, go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“You’re new, right? We’ve got homeroom and science together I think.”

He’s smiling the whole bus ride, cracking stupid jokes and telling stupid stories, right up until you get off at your stop. You’re smiling too, feeling grateful to have met a friend in this new place.

The next day, he sat next to you in homeroom and science, and you conversed as if you had known each other for years. He was just that easy to talk to, always able to quickly come up with a witty, smartass remark to whatever you may say and chuckling to himself when you get slightly irritated at his teasing. He noticed you sitting by yourself at lunch, and insisted you sit with him and his mates.

Over time, your friendship with Harry gradually and organically blossomed into something more. Worried that it was only a one-sided feeling, you kept it to yourself and put on a front when you were around him, attempting to veil your new-found feelings with excessive teasing and smart remarks at his expense. But keeping up appearances proved to be difficult as time progressed and the two of you got closer and closer and as he got to know you better, picking up on the way you deflect your emotions.

One night, after a lot of weed and talking, you both found yourselves on Harry’s roof, just above his window to his room. His parent’s room was thankfully on the other end of the house and given it being the early hours of the morning, they were surely asleep. At least you hoped they were, he did manage to make you laugh louder than you thought possible and you crossed your fingers that they didn’t hear the two of you. The night sky was full of stars, you remember, and you finally didn’t have a weight on your shoulders, finally comfortable enough to be your true, authentic self and genuinely happy for the first time since you moved. Neither of you realised how long you had been up there, talking, laughing, smoking, until little glints of orange light began peaking through the clouds in the sky, the birds starting to sing their morning songs. You were honestly disappointed that the memory was over, that the rare moment that you got to feel like yourself alone with Harry had come to its inevitable end.

It was hard making friends in a new city, but his cheeky grin made it so easy to be his friend. 

The next time you went up there, you had your first kiss. It was like you thought it would be, your friends implanting in your mind that your first kiss is never as special as it is romanticised on film, but the kiss with Harry made butterflies swarm in your stomach, his soft lips feeling like the closest thing to home in this foreign city that with him you’ve grown to love. You later found out that it was his first kiss too, making the moment feel more special.

You were giddy again that night, but not because you had alcohol. A smile was stuck on your face with no setback being able to push you out of this happy trance. Harry loved seeing you happy, he loved the way your eyes got that little sparkle in them when you got all excited, a detail that no one else would be able to notice. He made you feel giddy in the best way possible, the feeling almost addicting. Dangerously, it seemed you had the same effect on him. 

It seems for once the two of you were on the same page about your feelings, making a hopeful promise of what the future may hold

By the time you were seventeen, London sunrises on Harry’s roof after a long night of talking and weed have become a habit for the two of you. Something about being wrapped up in each other’s presence, in a space just for the two of you and distanced just enough from the world around you, is incredibly addictive. But the rays of sunlight pop the little bubble over you and Harry every time, though despite your disappointment of being brought back from your own perfect world where all you have and need is each other, you’re quick to get over it because it just means it’s time to climb back in his window and go to sleep in each other's arms.

All you had with him was friendship, but it felt like so much more than that. He gave you butterflies, he made you feel free and invited you to be a part of his world when you had no one. When you were with him, you had nothing to hide. He gave you this warm feeling that you had never felt before, a safe feeling. A feeling of home.

All you desperately wanted was to be more than friends, but you were simultaneously so scared of losing what you had with him. The love you had him was unfathomable, you couldn’t wrap your head around it and nothing made you more scared than losing him.

He was scared, too.

Despite being enlightened that your feelings were mutual, Harry couldn’t comprehend in his mind what you had, It didn’t make sense to him that you could love each other so deeply but not be together. He wanted to be mindful that you were heading in completely different directions in life, knowing your dreams of starting a startup and his dreams of having a career in music. He was scared that if you both wanted different things you’d lose each other forever. And he can’t lose you. 

So he pulled away. He forgot to invite you to his X-Factor audition, making up some lame excuse that everything’s been so hectic and he knew how stressed you were about our own future. It hurt your feelings, because in spite of his carefully crafted excuses, you could tell he didn’t invite you on purpose. 

It quickly became apparent that not inviting you wasn’t just a mistake, because he didn’t hold you safely and securely in his arms after you watched the sunrise anymore, kissing the back of your head as you fell asleep tangled in each other. He didn’t kiss you like he used to, no butterflies forming in either of your stomachs, his hand barely grazing your cheeks as he reluctantly connected your lips. Eventually he barely kissed you at all. 

He wanted you so bad, but he wasn’t willing to lose you to get you.

But he pulled so far away that you were barely in sight anymore. He tried to convince himself it was for the best, because at least this way you’d always be on good terms and he’d always have you in his life. He’d always have a part of you. But he missed the smell of you in his sheets, he missed the way you rubbed your nose against his when you were sleepy. He missed making you laugh so hard that you were practically falling off the roof (not that he’d ever let that happen, you were too secure in his arms to even slip an inch.

He wanted all of you, the good, the bad, the ugly. He wanted to wake up and see the remnants of your makeup from the night before still on your face, your sleepy smile completing the look. More than anything, he wanted to have you as his, to announce to everyone that he finally got the girl.

You wanted him just as bad, but his distance hurt you more than you’d ever admit to him. Harry had always made you feel free, like you can have anything you could possibly want. That is, except for him. 

That was the fucking catch. He gave you everything you could have ever wanted. You had the passion, the love, the sensitivity, the jokes. You had it all with him, except you never had him. That’s what sucked the most.

It wasn’t til graduation that you finally worked up the courage to put everything on the line. You went back with him to his house after everything with the school finished, him driving you because even after all this time, he absolutely never trusts your driving. 

“We need to talk,” you start ambiguously.

He laughs, raising his eyebrows as he turns to you for a second, “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe,” you mumble back, anxious and growing fidgety in the seat next to him. Harry clocked this, his hand coming to rest over yours to calm your fidgets down. Glancing over at you briefly, the worry was evident in his features. “H, you’ve always brought out the best in me and made me feel special when I had absolutely no one. I didn’t need anyone else because your friendship, our relationship is all I’ve ever needed. I mean, we’ve dreamt about our futures while we were fucking high on your roof, but when I told you about what I want in my future, I never told you that I wanted you. You’re all I see when I see my life five years from now. You’re all I want, H.”

Harry goes unusually quiet, processing what you told him. It’s uncomfortable, usually by now he would’ve made some inappropriate joke, called you stupid or even just reacted in some way. It’s painful when he looks at you for a moment as he’s stopped as a stop light, and it’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s carefully considering what to say next. 

“Y/N, you’re my bestfriend-“

“Fuck that,” you laugh dryly, unimpressed and masking your hurt with anger.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you raise your voice slightly. “I fucking get it. It’s fine. But I can’t be your friend, Harry. Fuck that. I want more than that.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” his voice is a whisper, tears beginning to form in his eyes before he roughly wipes them away, clearing his vision as he parks in front of his house and turns to meet your gaze. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t be just your friend.”

This moment still replayed in your head like a broken record for years later. 

Maybe you were stupid for letting him go, but you might’ve driven yourself insane if you were still his best friend after everything that you’ve been through together. It wasn’t sustainable for you to continue to just be there, waiting for him to decide that you’re what he wants or, scarily, sticking by him and watching him be with another girl. It would have ruined you to see him treat another girl the way you wanted him to treat you.

You ran into him when he was strolling London a few years later, on his rare day off from touring and concerts and meetings. Even though the run in was supposed to be short you got to talking and laughing and he saw that sparkle in your eye again, something that he hadn’t seen in years and something that made him feel at home. Old habits die hard, and you and Harry ended up staying up all night together, catching up. It felt like you were seventeen again, hopelessly and foolishly in love with a man you could never have.

Before you left the next morning, he grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. “I have to see you again. Please, Y/N, don’t say goodbye forever.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, contented that after all these years apart, you finally have a part of him again. You always had a part of him, you just didn’t know it. “Take me to your album’s party tomorrow?”

And he did, picking you up sporting that grin that made you weak in the knees. He was proud, introducing you to his friends, showing you off on his arm. It felt right.

As the night started getting old, Harry laced his fingers in yours and led you out to the balcony, escaping the chaos and noise inside and making the world just about the two of you. Letting go of his hand, you stepped towards the railing and admired the view while Harry admired you, breath taken away as you turned your head back at him and smiled. Harry wondered how he ever let you go.

Tapping your shoulder gently, he prompts you to turn around to face him. His hand finds your cheek, tilting your face to face his and leaning in to kiss you, lips soft against yours and his free hand finding its home on your hip.

He finally felt like yours again.

[haztory]

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (1)

--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!

--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention. 

But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.

And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.

a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.

other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated. 

(w.c. 4836)

masterlist | next chapter

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further. 

The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task. 

Shirtless.

And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has. 

Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie. 

The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally. 

But this? This is outrageous.

This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out. 

So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker. 

He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”

“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted. 

It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”

He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek. 

It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that. 

Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this. 

He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end. 

Quickly.

**

It does not end quickly. 

It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.

It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it. 

He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.

How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality. 

He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is. 

“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.

The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable. 

In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else. 

But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.

“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”

Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”

“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder. 

“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.

“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”

“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.

“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t. 

This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime. 

He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory. 

Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.

It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away. 

 Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”

“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker. 

“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”

“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head. 

He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”

His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.

Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body. 

Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.

Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”

Scratch that. They have one idea.

The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink. 

“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”

Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.

Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you. 

He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”

Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”

“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”

“And what did (y/n) say?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”

Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.” 

“No, actually, she—” 

You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.

A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.  

You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it. 

Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones. 

The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his. 

You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again. 

“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.

The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”

Patience is below the ground now.

The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”

“Why?”

“So that you can help us get closer to him!”

“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed. 

Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot. 

You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.

“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward  blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”

There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour. 

But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.

You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?” 

(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)

She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”

“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.

You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it. 

It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.

The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.

You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”

She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.

“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”

You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.

“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.

It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you. 

It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.

“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips. 

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake. 

“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”

**

“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact. 

It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you. 

This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern. 

You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food. 

Win-win.

And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

But this is going too far.

Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot. 

“You’re joking, right?”

This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.

His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”

“No.”

“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.

“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.

“Does it matter?”

“Whose?”

“...Oikawa.”

Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.

That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months. 

If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is. 

Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.

Damn him and that hard head of his. 

Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls. 

Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now. 

end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.

[wherethewordsare]

Sweater Weather- Mutual Pining for Jay’s 400 Follower Bingo!!

He’d found it after a movie night, draped over the back of the couch. He held it up to confirm and yep. There was no mistaking the hood and the bulky black sleeves. It looked like it may have gone through the dryer about twelve times too many and the zipper pull was barely hanging on. He let his thumb rub against the hem of the sleeve, shaking his head. Jaskier tucked the hoodie under his arm as he pulled out his phone, smiling to himself. 

geralt

u left ur hoodie

its cold and everything how do u forget that

ur worse than ciri smh 

Just hold onto it, I’ll grab it next time. 

And I am not worse than Ciri. I’m not the one who’s left his phone in the Denny’s bathroom at 2am…. Twice…

Last month. 

shhhhh :P

Throwing his phone down, Jaskier went to his closet. He was going to just hang up the hoodie and Geralt would get it eventually. Honestly, he was going to put it away. But then he pressed his face into the shoulder and sighed.  

This was wrong. He should just hang it up and return it when they saw each other again. He wasn’t about to let this silly little infatuation with Geralt ruin a perfectly good friendship. Especially not over a stupid hoodie.

Unfortunately, Jaskier's self restraint had taken the night off. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier was sliding his arms in, zipping up the front and crawling into bed. One night of indulging wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Even if it felt like his chest was splitting open. He shifted a little under the covers, burying his nose into the collar as he drifted off to sleep. They had been through so much together since they met in high school, wasn’t Jaskier allowed this one little thing, just this once?

-o-O-o-

i still have ur hoodie

u want it back cause we could like meet up for coffee 

we could go to the nag :) 

He snapped a picture of the hoodie and a travel mug in his passenger seat, sending it off. 

Can’t today. :(

Parent teacher meetings and then Dad wants us to help him fix the roof.

I could use my hoodie today, it’s cold… 

omgl finally

thought id have to do it

Jask… no. 

:/ fine then

see if i try to be helpful again

jk jk

dont die

I dont wanna do handywork :3 

Geralt had been right. It was cold, and Jaskier had forgotten his own jacket at home. He frowned down at the hoodie and sighed. It was only because it was chilly. Nothing else. He tried to ignore how it still smelled so strongly of Geralt. He walked around the gallery wrapped in Geralt’s hoodie, the front unzipped and his hands buried in the sleeves. 

-o-O-o-

hehe crispy leaf time

the cold is coming 

Yes, Jaskier. That’s how seasons work

u know what that means~

Geralt did not in fact, know what that meant but he soon found out. He was in the middle of typing when a picture came up with the caption “stolen hoodie weather :3” with Jaskier curled up on his couch at home, snuggled up in the black zip up hoodie Geralt only remembered leaving there early last Spring. 

Something in his stomach flipped and he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Why? Why would it matter if someone saw him? It was just Jaskier.

He frowned and started typing again. He stopped and erased it, fighting down the small smile that was starting to tilt the corners of his mouth. 

You kept it?

Way to go, Geralt. That was really fucking smooth. What was he supposed to mean by that?

unlike u :(((

abandoner of hoodies

some of us appreciate the gift of comfort geralt

Geralt felt like his brain was melting. That thing in his stomach seemed to purr with satisfaction at the idea of Jaskier wearing his hoodie. It was petty and ridiculous and oh no, Geralt couldn't take his eyes off the way the black material framed Jaskier's collarbone. 

No. No no. This way lay madness, he told himself. He would simply get the hoodie back and that was that. 

hey when do u wanna do our next movie night

its been like

7099039 years

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He had never hesitated when it came to Jaskier. They had known each other for far too long. 

Sure. My turn to pick?

not if u choose a history documentary

Spy movie?

:0 promise?

yes pls

Should I bring wine?

Wait, no that would be a very bad idea. 

:) you know it

bring the good shit

eskels secret one

i know you can find it 

It’s called “google” Jaskier. Even I know that. And I will see what I can do.

same time and place as normal right

It’s a date.

Geralt felt as though his soul had left his body when he had hit send. Had he lost his entire mind? He was in the middle of typing a follow up, trying to word the best way to dismiss his complete and total departure from sanity when the little dots popped up then disappeared then popped up again.

It’s a date. :)

Jaskier nearly slammed the door back into Geralt’s face in shock. Geralt was standing in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, movie and carry out in the other. Then there was the shirt. Jaskier had actually helped him pick it out. The black button up, the sleeves rolled up and was his hair actually combed back? He looked good. Jaskier swallowed hard. He looked really damn good. 

But that wasn’t even the weird part. No, the weird part was the way Geralt’s eyes widened when he had opened the door. He recovered quickly though, nodding at Jaskier as he stepped in. 

“Didn’t think you’d let the apartment be cold enough you’d need to wear a hoodie.” He smirked, setting the bag down on the table before going right into the kitchen. 

“Comfort, Geralt. I’m telling you, I just don’t think you appreciate it enough.”  Jaskier followed him in. It was routine for them, the way Geralt got the wine open, Jaskier grabbed plates and silverware; the way they bickered and snarked, barely suppressing laughs through barbs. 

-o-O-o-

The coffee table was littered with cartons of orange chicken and fried noodles. Geralt set his plate down as he leaned back, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. He had to smile at the sense of deja vu that struck him. Casino Royale wasn’t just a comfort movie for them. It had been their first movie night nearly fifteen years ago. 

By now, they could practically quote the entire thing, make quips at Bond’s smugness and only just sit through that one scene without wincing. At least that’s what they told themselves. 

Now they watched as Bond and Vesper reconnect outside of that fancy English rehab center. Jaskier chorused him as they both rolled their eyes and sighed at Bond’s shitty lines about little fingers. 

“God he’s the worst.” Jaskier took a sip of wine, making a gagging sound. 

“Quantum still exists.” he chuckled. 

“Valid!” Jaskier set his wine down. 

Geralt leaned over as Bond delivered his next line, syncing his tone and dropping into a soft gravelly murmur. 

“Whatever I am, I’m yours.” It was supposed to be cheesy and ridiculous but Geralt found that it felt far too honest. There was truth to them that he couldn’t think to deny now.

Jaskier nearly choked as he looked up, his eyes going wide. Geralt watched as he leaned into his personal space. Time felt like it stuttered to a halt in that moment, Jaskier inches from him, still draped in his hoodie. Geralt wet his lips anxiously. The tension between them felt like a powerline pulled too tight; everything seemed to crackle with it. 

“Geralt-” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost the second Geralt closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. It was nearly magnetic and there was no pulling away. Geralt’s hands strayed down to Jaskier’s thighs without his realizing it. There was no way he could stop himself now. He’d wanted this for far too long to just let it go. Part of him would mourn the loss of his oldest friendship, but that was Tomorrow Geralt’s problem. 

Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Geralt tugged Jaskier into his lap clumsily. 

Geralt had to break the kiss first, pulling back gasping for air and pressing their foreheads together.

“Jask… Wait. Wait,” Geralt choked. He had to tilt his head back to get his words out as Jaskier dipped back in to start kissing him again. “Shit. Jaskier…” He already sounded wrecked to his own ears. His hands were on Jaskier’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his sides as he looked up, eyes searching. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He needed to hear it. He needed to know he was allowed to have this. It was one thing to say it would be Tomorrow Geralt’s problem, but it was another to actively throw away the best friendship he had ever had. He had spent too long pretending they could be just friends for it to fall apart like this. 

Jaskier crowded in closer and it took everything in him not to just give in to it because fuck that felt amazing. There was an easy smile across his lips that made Geralt feel like he was starving. 

“Geralt, I swear to the gods, don’t you dare start questioning this now,” as open as his face was, his voice trembled slightly. It was then that Geralt realized that Jaskier was practically vibrating under his palms. It was instinct the way he wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for at least a solid decade.” 

Geralt blinked hard as he gaped up at Jaskier. 

“Are you really that surprised, Geralt?” Jaskier hummed, leaning back down and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” He found himself chuckling, trying to breathe around the bubble of light that was threatening to fill his entire chest. He caught Jaskier’s mouth again, his hand coming up to slide into his hair, holding him close. 

It was hard to tell who had deepened the kiss further but the laughter died on his tongue when he felt Jaskier roll his hips down into his lap. Suddenly everything was too much and achingly not enough. The hoodie slipped down Jaskier’s shoulders and what little attention span Geralt had left zeroed into that same spot along Jaskier’s collarbone. 

Pulling Jaskier closer, he made a trail of graceless open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the firm column of his neck, his teeth raking over the spot with careless abandon. He was rewarded with a soft keen and Jaskier squirming in his arms. Long dexterous fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as his own found their way up the back of Jaskier’s shirt. 

“Geralt-” There was a tug in his hair and fuck shit yes. He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Jaskier chuckle fondly. “Geralt, as much as I am enjoying this,” he gasped, back arching as Geralt nipped just below his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

There was no arguing with that tone nor could he bring himself to find anything to argue about. Geralt tilted his head back up, Jaskier’s lips crushing in against his, taking every last remaining shred of doubt away. He felt his body switch to autopilot as he scooped Jaskier up from under his thighs, pleased at the way his legs wrapped around him automatically. He carried him easily, stopping only for a moment to pin Jaskier to the wall to adjust his grip under him, long enough to flick the lights off. 

Jaskier snorted, pulling away. “So considerate.” He teased. Geralt gave him a playful swat on his thigh and the chuckling was cut off by one of those delicious keening noises. 

Geralt half stumbled, half marched to where he knew Jaskier’s bedroom to be, blindly pushing the door open with his foot. He let himself bask in the heat of Jaskier’s body pressed to his, taking his bottom lip and biting it. 

The reality of where he was came crashing down on him and time was doing that thing again, slowing down as someone else with his hands kneeled against the side of the bed, letting them both tumble back into ridiculously lavish sheets. Years of habitual teasing were only tamped down by Jaskier’s insistent fingers making quick work of the buttons on the front of Geralt’s shirt. 

“You just had to wear this one, didn’t you.” Apparently not everyone was so distracted not to tease. “Do you know how hard it was not to just pull you into my apartment and kiss that ridiculous face of yours?” 

Geralt gave a wry smile. “Do you know how hard it’s been for fifteen years, being your best friend and thinking I would never get to kiss that beautiful face of yours?” 

He had to bite the inside of his lip as Jaskier’s whole face and neck flushed brilliant pink in the low light. 

“Geralt!” he practically whined and Geralt couldn’t stop from laughing softly at that, bending back down to kiss him again. He decided he couldn’t help himself, not really. 

This was too good. If he could just bottle this moment and tuck it away for every rainy day for the rest of his life, he would.  

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you now.” Geralt hummed happily. He shifted, the hand under Jaskier’s thigh moving to tug his hips flush with Geralt’s as his other hand moved to cup his face. “As long as you’re okay with that.” 

Geralt was pretty sure they were too far gone to ever go back, but even now, he had to make sure.

“Geralt Roger Eric…” Jaskier groused. “If you do not come back down here and kiss-” his words were muffled by Geralt’s mouth, his tongue sliding over Jaskier’s bottom lip and swallowing whatever ridiculous threats may have been lobbed at him. 

He found that kissing Jaskier had been easier than breathing. Before he knew it, Geralt was pulling back to pull off his shirt but his hands froze. He cursed under what breath he had left because the view of Jaskier under him, lips kiss bruised and shining, the needy look in his eyes, and the way his hair was pushed in every direction nearly undid Geralt completely. 

He snapped back to work, stripping out of his shirt and pushing at his jeans, letting them slide away. 

“C'mere you gorgeous thing.” Geralt murmured softly, pulling Jaskier to him before rolling, his back pressed up against the headboard. 

Jaskier shimmied out of his own jeans before straddling Geralt’s thighs, letting his fingers trail up the planes of Geralt’s chest, a stray fingernail grazing over his nipple, making him groan. Jaskier only grinned, leaning in, and nipping at Geralt’s neck. 

All Geralt could do was groan and tilt his head back, his hands sliding over Jaskier’s back. He was just aware enough to realize when Jaskier started to work his way down his body. Looking down, he watched in complete awe as nimble fingers hooked into his boxers. 

The first touch of Jaskier’s mouth to the jut of Geralt’s hip had his blood singing and he could only drop his head back against the wall. He hadn’t realized how achingly hard he was until Jaskier was biting down gently on Geralt’s upper thigh making him jump. 

There was a low chuckle from somewhere around his groin and then there was a sharp tug on his boxers. Jaskier wasted no time getting a hand around Geralt’s cock while he still playfully nipped at Geralt’s hip and thigh and abs. This was how he was going to die, he thought absently as he let his hand move to the back of Jaskier’s head. He let his fingers tangle there, tugging gently and Jaskier seemed to get the message though he could feel the smirk against his inner thigh. 

The weight of Jaskier between his thighs, one hand sliding up Geralt’s torso as the other stroked him lightly left Geralt breathless, his eyes fluttering at every touch. But it was when Jaskier wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock that Geralt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bucked his hips instinctively into the hot slick of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

For long moments, all Geralt could do was hold on. Jaskier took him slowly, seeming to savor the newly found ground between them as he bobbed further and further until Geralt was nudging the back of his throat. He gasped, his back arching when Jaskier swallowed around him, his responding hum a little too self satisfied. 

Geralt tightened his grip in Jaskier’s hair only slightly, tugging him up. It was messy and Jaskier’s mouth was open and slick, his eyes glazed slightly with a need that left Geralt breathless. He looked debauched and it was honestly the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen. 

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling Jaskier back into his lap, his hips stuttering to grind up against Jaskier’s thigh. 

Jaskier pressed in close, panting slightly as he broke a kiss that had been more teeth than anything, leaning his forehead to Geralt’s. “Mm, fuck. We- Ah,” He chuckled as Geralt dipped in to kiss him again, dodging away gracefully. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips , taking a shaky breath. “Want you to-” 

Geralt was already nodding. He would agree to anything Jaskier asked for but the way his hips ground down against Geralt’s lap, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. He wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s middle, rolling them gently until Jaskier was under him his knees still bracketed around Geralt’s thighs as he arched and keened.

“Under the notebook in the-” Jaskier breathed his hands not leaving Geralt’s skin for a moment, fingers greedily mapping out the lines of his back. 

“I know, you haven’t changed your hiding place since college,” Geralt teased. To his surprise Jaskier snorted under him, his head tilting back in the pillows as he laughed. It left the column of his neck exposed to Geralt and he couldn’t help himself but lean down and bite small marks into it. He was rewarded by more delicious noises endlessly streaming from Jaskier. 

He pulled away only for the time it would take to retrieve the lube before sliding back down into Jaskier’s arms and kissing him thoroughly. His hands traveled down Jaskier’s bare chest, his fingers brushing along the top of his boxers and he gave a low huff into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Why are these still on?” he grumbled, smirking when Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. 

“Someone’s been slacking in getting me undressed,” Jaskier shot back. 

TheirThere next kiss was a mess of chuckles and grins. Geralt shifted them again, moving to get Jaskier’s boxers down. The laughter died in Jaskier’s throat when Geralt’s fingers brushed low down his back and grazed over the swell of his ass, he buried his face into Geralt’s neck. Geralt didn’t tease for long before pulling away. It made Jaskier groan and nip at his neck until slick fingers returned to his entrance, circling slowly. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking back greedily. 

Geralt quietly cursed himself for letting so much time get away from him as he slowly worked Jaskier open, enjoying the way he shivered and babbled under him with every push of his fingers. When he slipped a third finger in, Jaskier bucked under him, his eyes slamming shut as he gave a shout. 

“Geralt! Fuck, dear heart, please, for the love of all that is good-” he pleaded, his hips rocking back onto Geralt’s fingers eagerly. “If you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to combust.” 

Geralt leaned down, muffling the rest of the curses that were probably coming with a hard kiss. Jaskier arched under him as he pulled his hands away. It was easy after that, letting their bodies slot together and letting himself slide into Jaskier’s tight warmth. It felt like a gut punch. It felt like coming home. 

Jaskier wound his legs around his waist, hands reaching up to thread into Geralt’s hair as he rolled his hips, taking Geralt deeper, causing them both to groan. 

“Jask.” Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s shoulder panting as he started a steady pace. Soon only the sound of their heavy breathing and Jaskier’s soft moans filled the room around them. 

Time around them seemed to hold still as Jaskier tugged gently on Geralt’s hair, prying him away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. The look Geralt found there left the world spinning. Jaskier’s eyes were bright and his smile warm even as his cheeks flushed. He was pliant and open and completely wrecked and the sight of him tugged at Geralt’s chest. The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his hips slowly rolling into Jaskier as they moved. 

“I love you, Julek,” he murmured as he kissed him slowly. 

Jaskier whined under him, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When they finally broke apart to gasp for air, Jaskier's eyes were searching his as he bit his lip around a low moan. He huffed a wet sounding laugh as a hand slid from Geralt’s hair to rest on his cheek, a well calloused thumb tracing along his chin. “Oh, dear heart,” he shifted, canting his hips to make Geralt move. The angle shifted and Geralt seemed to nudge right against where Jaskier needed him most as he arched from the mattress and groaned. 

Geralt pushed up to sit, pulling Jaskier up with him until he was in his lap. They rocked together, shuddering every time Geralt bottomed out. He gripped Jaskier’s hip tightly with one hand as his other slid between them, wrapping around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pushed up into his hand, swaying between his grip and his cock, they both seemed drunk on it. It was only a matter of time after that that Jaskier was crying out, Geralt’s name tumbling from his lips, his orgasm tearing through him like a whirlwind and Geralt could do nothing but hold onto him. 

Geralt steadied him, his hand holding Jaskier still as he thrust up into him, reveling in the small fucked out noises Jaskier whimpered into his neck before he too was shaking apart, spilling into Jaskier with a low satisfied rumble. 

They kissed again, lazy and sated, their chests a mess with Jaskier’s spend. He broke the kiss first, pulling back with that smile that always left Geralt feeling dazed.

“I love you, too. I love-” he didn’t get to finish because Geralt was pressing him down into the mattress again with a hard kiss, smiling. 

He was allowed. Everything that had happened seemed to catch up with him but instead of the sheer panic he had been expecting, the only thing that wrapped around him in that moment was the bright light that was Jaskier’s answering laugh. 

--

Everything was sore but in that pleasant kind of way after a good lay. Jaskier rolled over, pressing his nose into the pillow beside him. He smiled when he realized it still smelled like Geralt. 

Geralt. Fuck!

His hand reached out before he let himself open his eyes, wincing against the bright morning light that streamed in through his windows. The space beside him was empty.

But… Geralt had said it first? Where-? Jaskier’s heart sank, his throat tightening. He knew it was too good to be true. The moment Geralt had kissed him on the couch, he had pushed down every part of him that had screamed that he was going to end up hurt by time the sun came. 

He reached for his phone though he didn’t know who he was going to text. Essi wouldn’t even be awake yet on a Saturday. The space by his lamp was also empty. He realized he must have left his phone in the living room the night before when-

He tried not to think about how easily Geralt had lifted him up and carried him to bed. He had tried not to think about how there were now bruises on his hips that were shaped like Geralt’s hands or the trail of stinging bites that he would have to carry around his empty apartment for days. He pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes and groaned. 

“Idiot,” he berated himself. 

“Cause you left your phone in the living room and now it’s dead?” Geralt asked, pushing the door open with his foot. He was in a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and nothing else carrying in two cups of coffee. He looked up from where he had been concentrating, trying not to spill them. “What?”

“You’re here,” Jaskier chuckled. Something in his chest lifted and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“I… yes?” Geralt looked around. There was a lovely mark in the shape of Jaskier’s mouth on his shoulder and it made Jaskier’s toes curl. Geralt looked at the space beside Jaskier then at his face. He made a little oh with his mouth before he started to shake his head. “Oh! I see, hmm.” He set the coffee down gently on the side table and slid back into bed and into Jaskier’s arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“So we’re…” Jaskier looked away, rubbing his palms over his covered thighs. “We’re okay?” He didn’t dare hope. Not just yet. Not in the bright light of day. 

“Well, that depends,” Geralt  chuckled, pulling him into  his lap easily. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s chin. “Yenn messaged. Something about brunch. I think they know. Are you okay with that?”

Jaskier snorted, leaning over to grab his coffee. “Essi. I told her it was just movie night. I tell her it’s just movie night every time and-” He realized what he was saying, the cup of coffee hovering just at his lips. He looked sideways at Geralt who was tilting his head and smirking. 

“The biggest gossip we know and that’s the one you decide to confide in?” He took the cup from Jaskier’s hands and set it down again before rolling them both to pin Jaskier under him. 

Jaskier squawked indignity, his arms wrapping around Geralt. He let himself be kissed and hummed happily when Geralt slotted easily back between his thighs. 

“We’re going to be late for brunch,” he sighed as Geralt’s hand slipped down to his thigh, fingers brushing gently over the marks from the night before. 

“Hmm, don’t care.” 

They ended up missing brunch altogether but neither seemed to mind. 

---

The weather was crisp and dry and Jaskier was bundled in the black hoodie, but now pressed against Geralt’s side as they walked into Magnolia’s. It had been easier than Geralt was expecting though he groaned as he watched several fairly large wads of cash exchange hands. 

“Pay up, Jask,” Essi grinned. 

“What?” Geralt turned, scowling. Jaskier gave a chagrined shrug as he handed over money. “So little faith?” Geralt teased. 

“You too, pretty boy!” Lambert smirked across the table. 

Jaskier gasped beside him, leaning away “So little faith, Geralt?” The sleeves of the hoodie fell over his wrists and Geralt only smiled, pulling him back against his side. 

“I don’t mind being wrong this time.” 

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue, One, Two

WARNINGS ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, gaslighting, nightmares, grief, blood (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: Spoilers (up to episode 9, just to be safe) cheesy sitcom talk, the sixties, Señor scratchy slander, The nickname ‘kiddo’

Leave A Light On

The dream was always the same.

You would be on a beach, whether it was standing or sitting didn’t seem to matter, and the sun would be perfectly overhead. You were sitting this time, the salt in the air touching your lips as you basked in the warmth the sun provided. The waves crashed in perfect rhythm, and you let out a sigh when the water touched your toes, always warm and refreshing.

You were alone, yes, but you felt at ease.

Every worry and memory would wash away; the pain would drown in the never-ending ocean of happiness, and forgotten in the depths of the unknown. You were, to put it simply, in paradise.

But, like every night before, the waves would stop moving. The sun would go down, darkness would swallow the shore, and left in its place would be a field of glass. The warmth of the water would morph into bitter coldness; warping itself around your ankles and pulling you toward it, your skin would slice open the more you struggled against it, the glass under you stained red with your blood.

It was intense and graphic. The memories would come back in flashes, each one more brutal and heartbreaking then the last.

As your body was plummeted down what felt like miles of suffocating water, you tried to cling on to the memory of your father. You tried to picture him diving down after you, his hands trying to claw at you. You tried to imagine what your mother would look like; body and face blurred together as a ghostly hand reached down toward you.

But, you were alone, and no one going to save you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for my final trick,” Vision pointed the plastic wand at you with a smile and you leaned forward in anticipation. “I bring you the ‘Cabinet Of Mysteries.” You clapped your hands in excitement. A moment passed and you watched as he fumbled a bit, putting his head down with a sigh. “Darling, that’s your cue.”

This morning had been rather eventful, to say the least. Wanda had woken you up with excitement; a cape in hand and tall magician hat atop her head as she revealed her plan for the talent show.

“We need a practice audience.” She giggled, your tired groan making her eyes gleam in mischievousness. “C’mon, Kiddo. I’ll let you in on the secrets.” You had groaned once more, hands pulling at the covers in protest.

“I’m tireeeed.”

The fight was shortly won when Wanda sighed, seemingly in defeat, and walked toward the door. You smiled in content but felt your body be pulled down the bed by invisible hands. She laughed.

“See you downstairs, Kiddo.” Your pillow missed her by a hair.

“Did you say ‘Cabinet of Mysteries’ ?” Which is what brought you here, sitting patiently as you waited for Wanda to be introduced to the “stage”.

“I said, ‘The Cabinet of Mysteries.” Vision flicked the wand again and you watched as a large cabinet, presumably of Mysteries, waddle through the small gap of the stairs.

“Oh, that’s my cue.” Wanda let out a small huff as she pushed it over a snag of carpet.

“Holy Toledo!” It was a rather large box. “Darling, do all the other acts in the talent show have such elaborate props?” You could only barley see the top of her head as she popped out from behind it with a small gasp.

“Are you kidding? Fred and Linda are building a Moet and a fully-functioning portcullises and no one knows why.”

“A Moet!” You can’t help yourself from standing in glee, the excitement that flowed through quickly draining as Wanda looked at you with a small betrayed look. “But this-“ You slapped the door of the cabinet with a goofy smile. “This is a million times better.” She gives you a push to the chair once more.

“Let’s keep going.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” You clasp your hands in your lap and watch as Vision gets back into character. “Where was I? Um....” His eyes sparkle with new found playfulness. “Watch closely as I, Illusion, master of enigma, make my captivating assistant,” Wanda leaps into feign shock and awe. “Glamour, disappear.”

You lean forward, eyeing the inside of the now open cabinet. It all seemed perfectly ordinary; but you were sure if you squinted hard enough, a crack or something would be found within the edges.

How do they do it

Wanda gives a small wink to you as she steps into the small box, her gaze now on her husband.

“You really are very dashing.”

“Mm, thank you, darling.” He closes one of the doors and turns quickly to the other. “Fear not, Glamour.” He turns to you. “For I, Illusion, vow to bring you back exactly as you are.” Wanda shudders, hands waving and you concentrate on the cabinet’s now closed doors. Vision winks in mischief, wand slapping the door. “Abracadabra!”

The sight of the now empty cabinet makes you giddy, hands clapping as a smile spreads across your face. As the back spins, the smile turns into a cheeky grin as Wanda claps.

“Yes, um... Wanda, you’re not at all worried that the audience might just see through this little charade?”

“Well, that’s the whole point!” Wanda replied, stepping fully out of the cabinet. “In a real magic act, everything is fake.”

“Isn’t that a little contradictory?” She waved you off, closing the doors with a soft push.

“Darling, the talent show fundraiser is the most important event of the season and it’s our neighbourly duty to participate.” You stand from the chair and pat down your pants with a small sigh.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?” Wanda gives a small smile and waves you off again.

“Oh, wait!” You turned to her with curiosity. “Would you be a dear and move this back?” She pushes the edge of the cabinet toward you and you nod.

“Sure.” You say, “I can’t wait to see the show!”

Turns out it was a lot heavier then it looked; you wanted to rip out the carpet every time you hit a bump, a groan leaving your mouth as you pushed harder.

Now I’m really thirsty

You couldn’t help but give one of the wheels a swift kick, a satisfied grin on your face as you grabbed a glass from the kitchen. The window above the sink was open and goosebumps raised on your arms as the breeze settled on your skin. You filled the glass halfway and the sound of the front door closing fluttered into the kitchen.

“Seems like it’s just us now, Kiddo!” Wanda called from the living room. You didn’t bother turning as she entered, gulping down the icy water as she fiddled around. You both fell into a calm silence; her humming a tune as she wiped down the table and you refilling the glass with water three more times before finally feeling satisfied. You must have been really, really, really thirsty.

A loud thud startled you both, the peaceful bubble popping as you glanced at each other with mutual confusion.

“What was that?” Wanda shakes her head, eyes wide as she reached the door.

“I-I don’t know.” Outside was quiet, birds chirping happily as the wind rippled through your clothes. “You see anything?”

The roses

Your feet marched forward, eyes fixated on the burning bright object atop them. It was something you had never seen before; painted in colours you never even knew existed, and as you reached forward, fingertips inches away from it, you had to steady yourself when Wanda snatched your wrist.

“Don’t.” You listened and stepped away as she held it up in confusion.

S.W.O.R.D

“Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes’ voice startles you both, a gasp leaving Wanda’s mouth as the object falls by her feet.

“Agnes.” You both pushed it out of your memory, focusing on the cheery woman before you. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Oh, I brought my pet rabbit.” She held the cage up with a proud smile, said rabbit glances your way. “For you magic act.”

“Yes, of course! Thank you, Agnes.” Wanda hands you the cage and you try to hide the disdain for the fluffy creature inside, it’s eyes too wide for your liking. “We will take good care of him.”

“Señor Scratchy just loves the stage. He played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant.” Her bragging is playful and she gives you a pat on the back as you turn down the walkway, trying to get away from the rabbit as quickly as possible. “Don’t worry, Kiddo. He has a soft spot for the younglings.”

You have to stop yourself from throwing it inside.

———

“So, are you ready to meet Queen Cul de Sac and her Merry Homemakers?” Agnes asked with a smile, you all laughing as you stride down the path. You and Wanda were either side of the brunette, elbows linked as she took the lead.

“Agnes, Dottie can’t be as bad as you say.” Wanda replied making her hum.

“Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death.” You both scoff in response. Agnes was rather dramatic and as she pulled away from you both, a look of seriousness etched across her features, you knew it was something you had to get use to.

“Wanda, can I give you a bit of friendly advice?”

“Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

“Yes, but it’s too late for that.” You were finally not on the bad side of fashion, thank God. “Dottie is the key to everything in this town.” She said. “Country club memberships, parties, school admissions...”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Your friend replies with a dismissive chuckle.

“You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.” You felt the prickle of a thorn, one of many that surrounded the stem of the rose in your hand. You weren’t really paying much attention to the two women in front of you, tugging one off the bush when Agnes pulled you with them from Wanda’s.

“Or maybe I could just be myself?” Wanda suggested as the rose fell to your feet. “More or less?” Agnes was quick to dismiss her, the laugh making your stomach turn in knots. You rubbed your fingers together, smearing blood between two digits from the small wound.

“Oh, Wanda.” She said. “That’s good.”

Soon enough the ladies wondered out of the house, Dottie leading them down the path as they carried various items for the day behind her. You said nothing as Agnes greeted them, hands waving wildly as they passed. Wanda let out a sigh of nervousness and grabbed on to your arm.

“Here goes nothing, Kiddo.” You made sure to dig your shoe into the fallen petals as you followed.

———

The meeting was - in the nicest way possible - the most boring thing you had ever attended. It was filled with toxicity, gossip and ice tea, and you were miserable. Why on earth did you ever agree to this? You couldn’t remember, but as Dottie droned on about food and dress code and “Mary, I told you not to do this and that”, you imagined soundly sleeping in your bed.

When will this be over

“The Rotary club is finishing the stage set-up as we speak-“ The woman, Beverly, spoke and you were forced back into the moment as Dottie dropped a sugar cube into her tea. “They’ve given the gazebo a fresh coat of paint and will be installing the final decorations all through the town square.” Her enthusiasm was genuine and you couldn’t help but listen, it was simply contagious. “And if you recognise the antique footlights,it’s because they’re from my store.” Unfortunately you had to watch as the sunshine that was Beverly was trampled by the lioness beside her, stirring her tea.

“And the chairs?”

“I’m sorry, Dottie.” She tried not to tremble. “I didn’t ask about the chairs.”

“So you better not ask me if you can chair-“ She leaned forward and you had to dig your nails into your chair to stop from twitching. “-any committees in the future.” The women laughed and Beverly, still trying to be composed took a seat. “The devil’s in the details, Bev.”

“That’s not the only place he is.” You were thankful for the witty distraction, but waved Agnes off regardless.

“As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary-“ You glance over when Agnes nudges you with a twinkle in her eye, dropping warm syrup into your tea on the table from her flask.

“I couldn’t.” You whisper but she was quicker then you, raising your glass to your mouth, even dropping a sugar cube in for good measure.

“Trust me.” She murmured. “It’s sweet.” Agnes always had a way with words, and you were sure it must’ve at least tasted a little better then the cider from before. You took the drink from her and smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you.” Agnes winked and took a bite from one of the many cookies being handed out.

It was extremely sweet, so much in fact that you swore you felt your teeth ache as you swallowed down the tea. You weren’t much of a sweet tooth; more of a salt kind of gal, but the tea was one hell of an exception, and when she wiggled her flask teasingly, you couldn’t help but stick your hand out for more.

The minutes flew by and you were having a ball, eating cookies and clapping when the other did. Dottie had turned into background noise and at one point you even found yourself laughing along with the women at one of her jokes. Soon enough, one by one, the women bid their dues, kissing cheeks and sharing hugs and you were the next to go after Agnes.

“Wanda!” Dottie’s voice echoed through the lounge area and you sighed. “Why don’t you help clean up, hmm?” You knew it wasn’t a question and when Wanda gave you a small pleading look, you started to gather the plates nearest you onto a now empty tray.

Who knew how many cookies a small group of women could eat! You alone picked up ten or so tiny plates off the various tables, and you didn’t even bother counting the glasses. Finally - as Dottie droned on and on with “tips” , you put the last of the plates and cups onto the bench, Wanda letting out a groan of her own as she did the same.

“Golly, you’re a whiz at all the committee stuff, Dottie.” She gushed, two cookie holders in her hand as she smiled. “Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today. I feel so lucky.”

“You are.” Dottie replied. You rolled your eyes, and grabbed one of the cookies, bitting into it to stop from commenting.

“I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie. And I would like to correct that if I can.” You could never understand Wanda’s need to fit in, especially with people like ‘perfectly blonde’ Dottie.

“And how would you do that?” Wanda chuckles nervously, hand patting her hair as you try to look busy. This wasn’t a battle you were too interested to participate in.

“I’ve heard things about you,” She stands, tall and suffocating as her eyes harden. “You and your husband.” She scoffs at the sight of you. “Even your little... friend.” You let the cookie crumble between your fingers.

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve been told.” Wanda edges closer as your round the table, always two steps behind her, it seemed. “But I assure you I don’t mean anyone any harm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Wanda.

You taste the salt on your tongue, waves crushing over the horizon as you try to catch your bearings.

Wanda, can you read me, over?

The sand is warmer then usual, almost burning, but you push through it when you see her.

Wanda.

She lets the water slam against her feet, back toward you as she watches the sunset in the distance. Her baby blue towel around her shoulders protecting her from the wind.

“Who is that?”

The wind picks up; you watch as her towel floats away from her, carried into sea and she shivers.

“Who are you?”

She disappears into the waves and you watch as the ocean swallows the sand by your feet, knowing that soon you’d join her.

Wanda? Who’s doing this to you?

The sound of Dottie’s glass smashing makes you jump, eyes wide as shards fall from her palm. Dripping down with it the same colour from before, bright and burning.

“Dottie!” Wanda gasps, having to stop her hands from reaching forward as the woman scoffs. “You..” She moves past you toward the closest table, her hands quickly wrapping the napkin around Dottie’s hand when she returns.

“Pop quiz, Wanda.” The blonde stops her with her undamaged hand and you try to swallow down the dread inside of you. “How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen?” Wanda didn’t know what to say. “By doing it herself.”

———

Morning soon turned into afternoon, the sun beating down as you listened to the piano music playing behind you. After Dottie; Wanda had steered her focus completely onto the talent show, trying desperately to perfect everything down to what stockings to wear.

You weren’t much help.

But when you reached the town square you were thankful for her new friend. Geraldine was everything you had hoped Agnes to be. She was smart, funny, charming, even had amazing style and as Wanda paced back and fourth, trying not to panic about the sudden disappearance of her husband, she proved to be a great distraction.

“Glad I don’t have to follow this guy.” She giggled, eyes gleaming as she watched the dancers on stage.

“Huh, what?” Wanda was overwhelmed to say the least.

“Oh, but you’re going to be great!”

“Yes,” You added with a smile. “No one’s even thought about doing magic.” Wanda shuddered, moving to the corner with heavy breaths. “I mean, you know, cause... it’s just so hard to do!” You weren’t sure how to calm her down, choosing instead to step off the small stage and pace by the stairs.

“What time is it now?”

“Mmm, two minutes after the last time you asked.” You stop pacing, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth when you see the familiar man walk - well stumble - into view.

“I don’t know where he could be.”

“Vision!” You gasp. “Thank heavens, we were worr-“ His body practically fell atop of yours, the railing of the steps being the only thing to keep you up as he slides off you with a grumble.

“Sorry, Kiddo.” He slurred. You didn’t have much time to respond as he fell backward again, your hands reaching up his back to stop him from crushing you. “Sorrryyyy”

“Are you alright, Vision?” You grunted, finally able to push him upright. He said nothing, choosing instead to focus on getting up the stairs with his fingers gripped tightly on each side of the banister. He fortunately made it up without further incident.

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” He gritted, a loud grumbling - loud enough to be heard from your place on the stairs - from his stomach made Wanda panic somehow, even more.

“Vis,” She said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Where have you been?” You slowly made your way back on stage, making sure to stay near the railing in case he fell once more.

“Uh, well, me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses with shoes.” He grinned to himself, body swaying. “No, that’s not it...Shoe Horses! No.” She eyed you from behind him but you were just as confused as she. “Ah! Horse’s shoes.”

“Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.” She beckoned you over as she continued. “Well, something strange happened before that, too. It’s hard to explain. I...”

“I was just playing with his shoes!” You followed his pointing finger and watched as a person in a horse costume walked past, cowboys and cowgirls surrounded them.

How’d I miss that act

“What is going on!?”

“You are!” You all turn to Geraldine, clip board in hand.

“Okay, okay...” Wanda pointed to you. “Kiddo, go find your seat.” You point to the drunk toddler of a man besides you and she sighs. “I’ll handle it.”

You don’t have to be told twice, the fear of being crushed for the third time was greater then any concern you may have had over said man’s wellbeing. So, with a final push from Wanda, you crossed over to the front of the stage and made your way to a familiar brunette.

“Agnes.” She looks up with a grin.

“Hiya, Kiddo.” Agnes pats the chair next to her. “Take a seat.” You nod in gratitude and sit. Dottie says her speech, head to toe styled to perfection as she introduces the couple.

Wanda is the first to go, hands gripping the curtain as she eyes the crowd. She radiates chaos but is quick to put on a show. She smiles, surprisingly bright as she walks down to centre stage, arm stretched as she waits for Vision to enter.

The curtain remains closed a moment too long, long enough for Dottie to roll her eyes and for Agnes to sigh sadly. You guessed it was rather fortunate for him to finally barrel through the curtain, arms wide and a little too confident for a man who only moments ago found it troublesome to stand up straight.

“Hello, Westview! Good afternoon. It’s so lovely to be-“ You cringe as he stumbles to the side, railing digging into him. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” Maybe this was just a false start?

“I’m Glamour and this is my delightful assistant, Illusion.” Maybe not.

“I am Glamour.” Wanda corrects, waving her hands dramatically. “And He’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Vision, always the gentleman. “Today, we will lie to you and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited knowledge of the inner workings of the universe.” You didn’t miss the way her smile dropped, confusion and panic mixing together was never a good idea. “Flourish!”

Wanda whispers something to him but Vision simply scoffs and stumbles away with a dismissive hand behind him.

“And now my wife and I will delight in your dumbstruck little faces. Flourish!” No one had time to be offended, mouths agape as Vision simply started to levitate. You didn’t have to look at her to know that Wanda was just as shocked as the rest of you.

Luckily, for Vision, his wife was rather quick on her feet as it only took a second for a rope to appear behind him, her moving a sign away to real the lever as the audience laughed.

“Wanda, what’s- Oh, no!” Vision kicked around, trying desperately to get back to the floor as Wanda played with the leaver. “Ah! No! Wanda, please! Darling, let me down!”

“Oh.” Agnes breathed beside you, purse clutched in her hand. You could feel the tension of the table, the nervous giggle she made as Vision was finally back on his feet. But you didn’t say anything, afraid you might take away the ‘magic’ of the small respite. So you simply clapped along with the others, ahhing and oohing with the rest as he stumbled once more.

“Oh! Yeah this is... this is gonna be great!” He said as he made his way to the piano’s side, trying to keep the cape away from his arms. “A staggering feat of strength!”

Oh, boy

He lifted with ease, only with one hand just to make it worse and you could feel the tension rise once more in the audience. Vision didn’t seem to notice the shift, of maybe he didn’t care, you couldn’t tell.

“Illusion!” Wanda gasped, the rope forgotten as she tried think. “Illusion, Master of Enigma, allow me.” She took quick strides, hands grabbing the now two dimensional piano from the grumbling magician. She made sure to show off the small handle behind the cardboard, shimmying her shoulders teasingly. “Whoops! You weren’t supposed to see how we did that trick.”

They all clapped again, seemingly too entertained to question things.

“Oh, Sherbert!” Vision called suddenly. “Yeah, this is my old mate, Sherbert.” His top hat is forgotten on the top step, as his body sways down to said friend.

“Stand up, Sherbert.” He slurred. “Say hello to the crowd.”

“It’s Herbert, Herb.” His friend corrects, hands awkwardly at his sides as he tries to play along.

“Pipe down, Sherbie, and pick a card.” Vision lets the cards spread across his hands like a fan. “Any card.” Herb obliged and gingerly took one from the middle. “Yeah, put it back in the deck.”

Again, Herbert played along, putting the card into the deck which was now behind Vision’s back. He turned and shuffled, a smug look on his face as he displayed one proudly for his friend to see.

“Is this your card?”

“Uh, no.” That revelation was the start of a rather bizarre standoff between the two, Vision going through each card, throwing them to the ground to every shake of Herbert’s head while Wanda tried to get him to stop.

“Is this your card?” He asked a final time, the last card of the deck in his hand.

“Oh, it is!” He replied.

“It is what?”

“It’s my card.” Vision was quick to get defensive, for... some reason. You weren’t really sure.

“Well, pardon me, Herb.” He said before pushing the card onto his friends chest. “Have it back.”

“Oh, no. You did the trick right.”

“Well, of course I did the trick right! I’m Illusion!” There seemed to be no right way to calm down the blond toddler in a cape, as he stumbled back to the stage, doing a quick and rather sloppy bow. “Flourish!”

While you knew it was anything but planned, the audience clapped and laughed. It was pretty funny from an outsiders perspective; but knowing how unstable he had become, how unpredictable, you might as well have been trembling next to Wanda on the stage.

“And now, for my next trick....” How long was this going to be? You were left to sigh as Vision scrambled around for his hat, the same one that was directly behind him. “Who stole my hat?” His shouting seemed to have startled the white rabbit - which had been hiding - and you watched as it hopped away from said accessory.“Oh! Oh, stop that Rabbit! I gotta pull a hat out of it.” Wanda ignored his whining, letting the animal rest in her hands.

“Señor Scratchy’s got real star quality.” Agnes pipped up from beside you, a prideful grin on her face. “Don’t you think?” You hummed.

“Well...” You replied. “He did play Jesus.” She smacked your arm playfully in response.

“Maybe we leave the poor bunny out of this one, shall we?” Wanda smiled, giving the pet a quick cuddle before putting it back into its cage.

“Well then.” Vision grumbled as he finally got back on stage, hat in hand. “I will just have to pull this hat... out of myself.” The audience gasped, as did you, but for more of a “Oh no, he’s going to do something” kind of way. Wanda couldn’t reach him in time and she was left to watch in horror as the hat slipped through him easily.

“If only you knew our secret.” She laughed dryly, hand flickering quickly as her husband swayed. Mirrors appeared from the back of the stage, the curtains falling to their respective sides as the audience laughed and clapped yet again.

These were some very easily fooled people, thank the heavens.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale.” Oh, finally! “I bring you, The Magnet of Crysteries!”

“The Cabinet of Mysteries.” Wanda corrected, pushing along the familiar wooden cabinet. From the sigh she made, you knew the feeling was mutual.

Let’s get this over with

“Yeah, yeah, what she said.” Vision turned it to face the audience, the tall doors in view as the couple stood on each side. “I will now make my wife...disappear.” You can hear the whispers of excitement buzz around you like bees. The trick was simple enough, and didn’t even need Vision to do anything but close the doors!

And he did! Only... Wanda didn’t get inside the said cabinet beforehand.

“Are you sure you don’t want an audience volunteer named “My husband Ralph”?” Agnes shouts with her signature snark and grin, the women around her giggled.

Oh, Agnes.

She even made Vision laugh, a look at his wife making him frown.

Right he must’ve thought, the trick

“Abracadabra!” He let the wand smack the side of the cabinet, seemingly forgetting the most important rule of the box. Wanda cleared her throat, a small smile on her face when he let out a small “Oh.”

There needed to be someone in the box first.

“What’s in the box?” A small sing-song question from Herbert soon turned into a loud chant, the tables be thumped by fists as they all sang.

What is in the box? Maybe Wanda, being the quick thinker she always is, transported that obnoxious rabbit into it? You wouldn’t know until the doors opened. Luckily you didn’t have to wonder too much; for rather the first time that afternoon, Wanda and Vision were in sync, both opening their respective sides of the cabinet, and the once empty space was now the holding place of a confused Geraldine, clipboard still in the hand.

She stepped out, knees wobbly as the crowd soared with applause. The couple grabbed her hands and pulled her down to a shared bow. Agnes seemed to be the most pleased.

“That was magnificent.” She said. “Just amazing! Don’t you think, Kiddo?”

“It was... something!” You don’t let her respond, already standing as the trio on stage disappears off stage. “How about I get Señor Scratchy for you?” She nods.

“Why yes, dear. Thank you!”

You ignore Dottie on stage, her speech and the applause being nothing more then loud static as you reach the back of it. He seemed to be sleeping soundly in his cage, the white fur making it seem as though he’s a rather large marshmallow. He even looked a little cute. But when you touched the handle and those large, red eyes stared you down, you remembered why you hated him.

“Time to go home, you little...” You grimaced when he did a small hop. “Rodent.” Agnes met you halfway, hands outstretched for said rodent’s cage.

“Thank you, dear.” You smiled politely.

“No problem.” You watch her leave, not before sending a final wave, and focus your attention on the crowd, trying to see the familiar top hat and cape.

“You two!” Dottie calls, the applause ending as you all train your gaze to where she points. “Stop right there.” They do, Wanda having to drop her hand from the hat atop her head to see the familiar blonde.

“Nothing like what you two just did up here has ever happened in the history of our talent show.” She explains while Vision can’t help but look down in shame.

“Dottie.” Wanda sighs. “We are so -“

“Hilarious.” Dottie scoffs and you can’t help letting in the swell of relief that filters through you. “That was the most hilarious act we’ve ever seen.” She turns to the audience once more. “Wouldn’t you all agree?” They clap - you joining in of course - and you watch as they are beckoned up on stage.

“On behalf of the planing committee, I would like to award you with the inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year.” Wanda giggles, saying thanks as she gingerly takes the small trophy form her hands. Geraldine is given a small push from Vision, grinning all the same and the trio take a another shared bow as the applause fills your ears.

“For the children!” A man shouts and you join in on the chant with glee.

“For the children!”

———

“It was wonderful!” You must have said that the whole walk home, as the two lovebirds just giggled along. “Way better then the moet.” You add as Vision twirls Wanda, the door closing behind you all.

“Well,” You feel the weight of the day suddenly, the bed upstairs calling to you. “I think I’m gonna head up. Goodnight.”

“Kiddo!” Wanda calls and gives you a warm hug when you turn back. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I know I can be a little...”

“Controlling?” You tease and she scoffs playfully. “It’s okay.” She squeezes you one more time.

“Goodnight, Kiddo.”

You bid them both the same, steps slow up the stairs as tiredness fully sets in. Changing is quick and swift, choosing to wear a simple pair of pjs for the night. You stretch one more time, a yawn leaving you as you get comfortable in bed.

In the morning; you will wake to a world filled with bright and burning colour, the same that dripped down Dottie’s hand and the same as the paint on the small toy.

You will dream of the women again, of the crashing waves and warm sun. You will watch her drown once more and you will finally understand why.

But for tonight, and only tonight, you will feel at peace, and sleep will come naturally.

Only for tonight, only for tonight

———

(Tag list, open just ask! You can also leave anytime, just DM)

@y-napotat @white-wolf-buckaroo @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @fruitiseavey @simsiddy @quietly-scrolling-through @mothsnsyrup @i-love-superhero @jdogjdyke @tonystanktheirondad @selluequestrian

A/N

Gasp! Where did lady Jabbagabba go? You may be asking, and well I, cried, slept, ate Taco Bell, cried again, read half of ‘A little life’, sobbeduntil I felt dead inside, tried to find out what kind of cake I would be, slept, had a mental breakdown after eating an entire tray of cookies, and, you guessed it, cried.

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 5: I Didn’ Ask (Written Chapter)

word count: 1.7k

Atsumu Miya was handsome, that was an undeniable truth. So naturally it would make sense that his identical twin brother would be, well, identical - and yet, you couldn't help the state of shock you found yourself in as you stood before him, your once buckling knees relieved of their pressure as his very large arms grab the box from your hands with a grunt ('lemme take that, looks heavy'). In all honesty, the fact that he was that good looking pissed you off, and watching him be kind, albeit taciturn, to you after bullying you for a month straight on Twitter (okay, fine, it was a mutual bullying, but he definitely started it) only made your scowl deepen. Your eyes narrowed at his back and you turned toward the van with a huff, finding another, perhaps lighter box to take inside.

  "This place has been collecting dust for years, ya sure you guys can make it work?" Miya's voice was deep and rich, every syllable dripped with his Kansai accent. The unfamiliar sound made your chest bubble and you had to stop yourself from outwardly groaning in frustration. You crossed the threshold of the new place and your mouth fell open as you took in the shops current state.

The shop was- well, let's just say there was a reason it was so cheap. Even still, your eyes glittered at the potential you saw. The exposed beams looked in near mint condition as the sun filtered through the windows and soaked the unstained wood in a warm morning glow. It was empty, save for some appliances that definitely looked antique (the thought of being able to restore them made you drool), but the space had more than enough room for café style seating, and maybe even a section for a corner library or a stage for live music. The stairs to the two bedroom apartment that resided directly above the shop space, where you would be living, was tucked away in a hallway off to the side. You made a mental note to make sure it was a bit more livable than the current shop situation downstairs, and motioned for him to settle the boxes along the main counter.

"We're planning on restoring the kitchen within a few weeks, then setting up a pop up stand out front to make revenue while we renovate the rest. Hoping to be fully open come summer." He merely hummed in response as he brushed off the dust left on his hands. You were caught up in your own world, detailing in your brain every minute detail you planned on changing when Kuguri stumbled in through the front door, giant box obscuring his vision as he tripped over the step. "Ah, careful, looks fragile." Miya rushed over to help, taking the box and allowing Kuguri to steady himself. Kuguri blinked, warmth hitting his cheeks as he mumbled a small thank you.

“Don’ mention it,” came Miya’s slightly strained reply as he set the box down next to the others. The room fell into a less than comfortable silence and you tried to look anywhere other than at the man currently standing in your dining area. Kuguri cleared his throat and tightened the grip on his suitcase as he made his way over the stairs. "I'm gonna go check out the apartment. I'll be back in a bit." You shot him a pleading look but he mouthed a quick 'sorry' and scurried off, leaving you alone with the Other Twin.

More uncomfortable silence. You felt warmth rush to your face as you grew more flustered with each beat, neither of you willing to break the tension that had been slowly pervading the air around you like a dense fog. The suffocation ended up winning out over your stubbornness and you turned your head to look at him, embarrassment flooding at the sight of his eyes already on you.

"Uh, thanks, you know, for the help." He gave you a tight, forced smile, uttered a quick 'yer welcome', and began to make his way towards the side entrance. Arms crossed in front of you as you watched him open the door, the tiny alleyway and side entrance to his own shop coming into view. Miya paused at the open door and turned his head to look over at you, a smirk settling on his face.

"By the way, little creepy of ya to stalk us and rent out the space next to us. What are ya lookin' for here? I hope you know this new development doesn't change anythin' between us." Your eyes widened at the sudden change, your brain working overtime to try to process what he said. Once you had caught up to the moment, you scoffed.

"Oh please, Miya, as if. The world doesn't revolve around you. We bought this place over a month ago." His eyes shone with something you couldn't quite place and he let out a small chuckle, one that sounded far too innocent in comparison to his hard gaze. "Whatever you say, Paradis." You scrunched your nose at the familiar nickname, shaking your head.

"Don't call me that; I have a name, you know." Miya turned around to face you fully then, the smirk ever present as he leaned against the frame, his hand still grasping the handle to the shop door. "Ah yeah? You guys don' mention names on your Twitter, and I was always too (again, petty) lazy to bother lookin' it up," he drawled, deepening your frown in response.

"It's L/n Y/n." Miya's lazy smile upturned ever so slightly.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks." 

Embarrassment crashed over you once again and you felt the heat creep up your neck and ears. Your glare seemed to be filled to the brim with hellfire as you bore holes into his back. He turned to leave, and you followed after him, taking hold of the doorknob and watching him make the short distance back to Onigiri Miya's side entrance.

"I noticed you call me Miya, it's quite formal of you,” he noted, now at his own door. You let out a less-than-ladylike snort and waved your hand. "I wasn't being formal - coincidentally, I just also didn't bother looking it up." He laughed then, and it was a nice laugh, and you hated how nice it was with every fiber of your being.

"Osamu," he said, the smugness oozing off him, as if you were just dying to know his name and he decided to humor you. You stepped backward to make room for the door.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks," you mocked, accent and all. You threw a shit eating grin and a quick wave his way before promptly shutting the door. When you saw what seemed like the five stages of grief cross his face in a span of a few seconds, you knew that putting Osamu Miya in his place was going to become your favorite past time.

Based on the way you two had tweeted each other over the last month, Osamu had deduced that you were probably a woman. What he wasn't expecting, however, was just how cute you ended up being. If you had been anyone else he probably would have been nothing short of a perfect gentleman; carrying all the boxes, smooth talking his way through conversation, and working himself up to asking you out. Unfortunately for him, though, there was just something about you that got under his skin, and he genuinely couldn't figure out what it was.

Osamu stood alone in the alleyway, giving himself a moment to process the last forty-five minutes of his life. Paradis Bakery, the company he's been openly beefing with on Twitter for the world to see, not only opened a second location in Osaka, but moved directly beside Onigiri Miya, in the place he had been looking into purchasing for at least six months now. The abandoned café was supposed to be a plan B in case Tokyo had to be pushed off for a few more years - being able to expand Onigiri Miya would have been huge for them if they couldn't swing the Tokyo location, and Kita had been more than open to the idea of expanding. When you said you purchased the café over a month ago, he remembered inquiring about the place at least two weeks prior to Atsumu's visit to your bakery, and the owner mentioning that someone had put in an offer. The sheer coincidence honestly creeped him out more than anything; he didn't like the feeling that fate was behind this because if it was - why?

Osamu shook off the goosebumps and decided he'd worry about fate intervening when it actually decided to do so. Turning toward his own shop, he hustled into the store with tense shoulders and a furrowed brow. Why was he so worked up? He's well aware that he's the one who started the whole social media war between you, and it's not like you guys actually had any reason to hate each other - you were just doing it for the attention. So why does he have this familiar feeling of contempt coursing through him at the mere thought of you?

"Osamu, are you okay? Ya sleep well?" Osamu snapped his attention to Kita, who was standing in the kitchen, already beginning food prep for the day. Kita's knife paused its assault on the spring onions as he waited for an answer.

"Ah, yeah, I slept fine Kita. Ya meet the new neighbors?" Kita nodded, resuming his ministrations. If you didn't know Kita, you would have just assumed the polite smile was just that - Osamu knew better though, and the slight upturn had a hint of what looked like mischief behind it. He gulped at the thought of Kita plotting.

"I met L/n. She's very nice." Osamu face scrunched at the mention of your name, which didn't go unnoticed by Kita, who's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

 "You don't like her?"

"She's...fine." Osamu walked into the kitchen, putting on his apron as he washed his knife in preparation for the salmon.

"Honestly, I'm surprised, I thought you'dve taken a likin' to her if anything." Osamu grunted in response. "I dunno what it is, but there's just somethin' that rubs me the wrong way."

"Give it time, she may warm up to ya."

Osamu doubted that.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun Facts - 

Tendou got an earful when you called him that day, and he bit back a laugh every time you angrily mentioned how hot Osamu was (’Oh my god his face??? his arms??? Why’s the universe gotta have favoritism for the worst people’) 

After hours, Kita also got an earful from Osamu - and he also had to cover his smile with his hand whenever Osamu angrily mentioned how cute you looked when you scrunched your face up. (’-and then she snorted, actually /snorted/, at me and while it was adorable it was rude as hell. She’s rude as hell, Kita.)

Kuguri rushed upstairs partly because he couldn’t stand the tension, but mainly because he wanted first dibs on bedrooms. 

A/N: ahhh I’m SO sorry for such a long wait, I never intended to take nearly a whole ass week to post - I started a new job this week with weird hours so I had to adjust, plus this chapter actually gave me a little bit of grief haha (thank you lark for pulling my head out of my ass multiple times). But exciting things happen!! Y/n finally meets osamu and its awkward and annoying and they’re both so hot what do we do oh no~ I’m very excited to see how their relationship progresses through the next few chapters lol. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to pop into my asks if you want to talk about the fic, or your day, or would like to be added to the taglist!! As always, thank you so much for reading, I love you guys!

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​

[jae-canikeepyou]

| muse | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: art student!jaehyun + art student!yn

a/n: thought this on a whim whilst reminiscing my art portfolio, so we’ll see how you’ll like this with yuno in it. not the best i’ve written but hope you enjoy reading 💞😉 ~j

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

with jaehyun, there were three things that happened uncontrollably. one was he caused your heart to skip; two, your chest to feel all giddy; and three, your stomach to capsize. why you may ask? it was his very presence in the art academy which had heads turning and lips to whisper words of awe. he was labelled and called a prodigy.

be it in any medium of art, he was blessed to have such a talent that his parents thought it’d be a waste if not enhanced or put attention to. even your professors favored him and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous. despite his princely looks, he could sometimes be a total snob. he’d be in a good mood the first hour and then changed completely in the next. oh the duality, you couldn’t understand him at all.

though question marks continued to fill your head, let’s just say you had a tad advantage compared to girls who were overly thirsting for him; he was your classmate, a major in fine arts. sometimes you unconsciously found yourself sniffing his perfume each time he helped you with the shading of portrait drawings you worked upon. he was that close. as much as you loved seeing him almost every day, you hated at the fact you still didn’t know the ways to calm your loving facial expression towards him.

it was a funny sight —at least to your friends— that they could see how elongated your nose grew every time you deny your feelings for him. yet as time passed the possibility of your admiration might turn into romantic feelings instead. there wasn’t a need to prove to you since your friends have pointed it out already.

but you yourself wasn’t too sure about it.

“please,” hyejin popped with a huge round of an eyeroll at your oblivion. legs crossed as she chewed her bubblegum. “y/n, admit that you like him. it isn’t that hard to say out loud.”

other students, including your studio tutor held in their giggles in the midst of the silence within the room. true enough hyejin was the mood maker.

her words made you stop painting the colours that were meant to accentuate the highlights of the subject. “i’m not like you who’s very expressive in words.” you replied, taking few peeks at your surroundings in case anyone eavesdrop.

hyejin wasn’t supposed to be in the studio today. she was a literature student where writing poetry was her forte. but because your tutor appreciated her effort to promote the visual arts department in the school paper, her going to the studio with you became a normal thing.

“it doesn’t have to be in words. like, i don’t know? paint some canvas and pour out your feelings through colours? yellow’s joy or purple’s dazzling or red is love-” she stopped as you gave her an annoyed gaze. “i’m sure he’ll get it. he’s not called a prodigy for nothing.”

“painting is not done on a whim, hyejin.” you emphasised, not noticing the stress put upon your work. “it takes time and thinking and creativ-”

“yeah yeah,” she made her bubble burst, which by the way irritated you since it gave off the impression that she wasn’t listening to you at all. “abstract seems so random though. no thinking there.”

you pointed the brush at her, yet careful enough that it doesn’t touch her nose. if another word comes from her mouth, you wouldn’t hesitate staining it. “sis, shapes are used instead of virtual reality, so abstract still needs thinking. you just express it differently.” hearing this, hyejin paused for a while before deciding which reaction to give, and with that you were satisfied into silencing her for a while. “now you know how i feel when i don’t understand shakespeare’s ‘love looks not with eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind’.”

she let out a scoff, “pfft, you’re the cupid in that quote. you can’t even see that you like mr. prodigy so much.”

jaehyun gently opened the door and handed a paper slip to the tutor, which apparently was a doctor’s certificate. due to his arrival, hyejin elbowed you so hard that its force caused you to jolt in your seat then knocking two of the glassed jars placed on the narrow deck of your easel.

the tutor looked at your direction, and lowered his specs at the noise. flustered than you ever were in your entire life, you took the dust pan. you tried your best to not match eyes with jaehyun who was now smiling from second hand embarrassment. at farthest decibel your ears could handle, you could hear hyejin sneering with huffed laughs.

“i’m gonna kill you.” you mouthed from a table away and gave her a warning look. you gestured the phrase, followed by a scowl to refer her teasing tongue.

“i’ll help, y/n.” jaehyun offered, but you assured him it was fine. “what’re you working on?” he asked as you both walked back to the tables, he took out his tools and unfinished work.

this time was the season of cramming hours into a tight schedule, there were many initial stages/assignments due and portfolios to be completed. you guessed it was natural for you both to update each other regarding progress. “just giving more highlights and tweaks, then i’ll start on the portraits.”

he only pressed a smile, a breathy chuckle as a response while he focused on his art. “do you still need my help on shading?”

“i think i got the hang of it. thanks.” you damped the brush with water.

“alright, if you need me, i’m just here.”

your eyes shot down to your pockets, quickly answering the phone to quiet down the “supposedly” soundless vibration. and you wished you didn’t fished out the device if you knew that the message was from hyejin.

[18:45] hyejin: damn it y/n, confess already! 🤪

[18:45] you: if you could shut up maybe i will?? i could hear your voice haunting me 🙃

[18:46] hyejin: if there’s no progress today, i’m so gonna take action & tell him myself 😌

[18:47] you: ugh anything but that pls 😣

the thing with being associated with the arts was that time immediately had gone passed when you’re so concentrated. everything else faded away and in that momentum, it was just the art and you. jaehyun felt this once he picked up his brush or pencil. voices in his head whispered and guided him what to do with the creativity still yet to be shown in the world.

among all the students he bonded with, there was one whom perked his interest..

you.

as mentioned, his current surroundings blurred whilst he was sucked into another dimension of concentration. but you went there with him and appeared clear. seemed a scene out of an alternate reality in his perspective, or dramatic to some people. he was intrigued.

since knowing you, he expected to sought this mutual interest deeper. if he was the beautiful, detailed canvas everyone saw in an exhibition, you were the opposite; abstract, unpredictable and rough, someone who was overlooked because others couldn’t understand the depths and entirety of you.

finishing the last layer of the painting, you stretched to sooth the numbness. the professor reminded about the last few minutes before wrapping up the class and, he handed the room keys to you. for this tutorial, students have the choice to stay behind or leave. hyejin left with the others, leaving you alone with jaehyun. whether she did that on purpose, she’d do anything to let you be alone with him.

“oh? you’re done with yours?” jaehyun shifted sideways to take a better view of your work. he looked satisfied with the way his dimples hollowed. “hm. my advise is effective.”

“yeah, you’re a life saver.” you sighed as you looked at how completed the artwork was, then trailing your eyes to him again.

“i’m proud of you.” he winked, only to blush afterwards when his stomach growled. “i wish you didn’t hear that.”

coincidently, you tossed your wallet in the air. “good timing, i’m just about to head out to the cafeteria. want anything? my treat because you helped me.” you extolled with your mood in completely positivity. jaehyun became your inspiration and for now you weren’t able to bring yourself to tell him that.

hopefully soon though— when you have the courage.

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the sleepiness in your eyes only needed ten percent more to push your lids down, the queue was unexpectedly long at this hour. it was only until minutes later had you known that another department organised a party nearby. the wait for the order would be troublesome; that’d be in the fact there were girls right behind, their gaze burning into your skin as if you were an enemy of theirs. and somehow you knew,

they might be jaehyun’s admirers.

they whispered to each other, words audible enough for your hearing and you pretended to be listening to music.

and how you wished you should’ve.

“do you know why jaehyun took fine arts?” one asked.

an intrigued response caught you walking on a tight rope. this can’t be good. “sounds like you know the reason.”

“it’s been spreading around recently..” there was a pause that had you wondering even if you knew you shouldn’t believe in any of rumours from them. “i heard the studio has this session to draw the human body and the figures. like y’know.. no clothes?”

sigh, there wasn’t even any classes for those this semester, you thought.

few giggles were heard before they spoke again. “you’re saying he’s perverted?”

“maybe? i wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.”

“isn’t that kinda hot? his eyes starting into-”

you nearly dropped jaehyun’s food and trip over an extension wire hearing that. breathing slowly and steadily, you convinced yourself that what you heard was false. he wasn’t the type of guy they assumed he was.

as much as you wanted to prove them wrong, it wasn’t your place to speak out when the friendship you have with him was not to the level of best friends. so you rushed back to the studio, not noticing your blown-away hair and burning face. what was amusing after hearing the tea, you didn’t know why you reacted in that manner. did you leave because you couldn’t stand eavesdropping any longer? or did you run due to the fact the fantasies they had were about to enter your mind?

the door was opened with a force that jaehyun looked up from his work, smiling at your quick purchase. “whoa careful there. you didn’t have to run.” he chuckled and went to your table. he took his favourite spicy cake and placed it on top heavily. the force he exerted with his hands was the total opposite to when he dealt with art. somewhere in you, you’d say it was a 0.1 percent a turn-off.

“hey, it’s food. handle with care, it’s a blessing.” you said, munching on your share of the dishes.

jaehyun clasped his palms together, bowed his head and closed his eyes. he faced you and you sat there with a confused look. “thank you y/n, you’re an angel for treating me.”

soon after, you received a message from your professor about taking out some of the tools needed for tomorrow. holding the sandwich wrap between your lips, you took a closer look at the right keys before unlocking the storage room, opening the door afterwards.

it was at least the size of two toilet cubicles, not even close to a room’s walk-in closet. the thin cabinets against both sides of the wall were two feet, and the remaining space in the middle could fit a person’s leg, stretched out. the new set of canvases were placed on the top shelf. for someone like you, it wasn’t possible to reach them on tiptoes. you grabbed a chair and stacked two tins of paint for your feet to stand upon.

if you still couldn’t reach them.. eh, bummer. disturbing jaehyun who was enjoying his meal would be rude. you weren’t that type of person to suddenly feel as if you were already close to someone. the icky and dusty feeling on your fingertips nearly had you gagging.

“jaehyun?” you called out, apparently you’ve given up in trying another attempt. “i need a hand.”

there was a long pause as to why he didn’t respond immediately. maybe you should’ve have disturbed him? but you soon rolled your eyes when a mannequin’s hand was thrown to you. his snickers was supposedly an adorable thing to hear, this kind of wasn’t, because you desperately needed help now. “jeong jaehyun!”

he hummed right after you mentioned his name the second time. “i’m just messing around. but does that mean you’ll treat me again? i helped you.” his voice sounding with excitement.

you nodded, your anger long forgotten but he could tell there was conflict in your head. “i’ll consider it, so help me before i smack you with this plastic hand.” your tone slightly straining since you didn’t feel him entering the room.

“yeah. coming.” he said, giggling at your impatience. as you tried to reach out for the canvases again, the light behind you slowly dimmed.

that was weird. “hey, it’s getting dark in here.” you said.

before he could say anything, the door slowly closed and that made you raise a brow. he noticed this too and looked into your eyes when the light within the room soon disappeared. “ah sorry, i must’ve kicked the door stopper.” even in the dark, you could tell he was flustered from his actions. “i’ll open it.”

however his groans and vigorous sounds from the door knob stated otherwise. “what?” you heard him raise his voice.

“what’s wrong?” you hopped off the tins and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise then anti-clockwise. “it’s jammed.”

you both panicked because the night wasn’t getting any younger. there were things to finish and deadlines were drawing closer. before, you thought of procrastinating even when necessary. but procrastinating like this wasn’t part of the plan.

how was it possible for the knob to be jammed? the door wasn’t closed in an impact that would cause its components to be broken. sure jaehyun was reckless and couldn’t control his strength but that really wasn’t the issue here.

the actual issue was that you were going be stuck with him for who knows until when. stuck in a sense there were just enough space for two people. jaehyun fumbled his pockets in search of his phone, an annoyed groan told you it was bad news. “call someone. my battery just died and my powerbank’s outside.”

quickly you fished out your phone, only to find that it had the same fate. “ugh i have 10% left.” you slumped your sides to the shelves like there was no hope. “i’ll try to text hyejin.”

“hm i hope she’s not too far from the campus.” jaehyun leaned against the shelves opposite from you, his expression definitely amused with your reaction. a scoff of disbelief escaped your dry lips, sliding the phone to the shelf as you put your hair on one side. “that doesn’t sound good. what did she say?”

for all the things hyejin could do to help you get out of there, she’d rather sit and tease every single nerve of your body. “she said ‘you both just made your own seven minutes in heaven! i’m laughing out loud right now.’”

and for the things you thought jaehyun would disagree with your friend, he didn’t. it surprised you when his held-in giggles came bursting out from his chest. “it’s exciting. don’t you think?” he chuckled. “this is something you see in movies.”

“okay. tell me, what’s exciting about being locked-”

“we can ask each other questions. or any topic you’d like to talk about. i wanna know more about you.” he suggested, shutting you up because if he didn’t, you’d be quite a complainer. jaehyun bent to a squat, later stretching his legs until the soles reached the sides of your hips. “i rarely get the chance to talk to you properly and i guess this is the day, so scoot over.” he gestured you to move aside a little.

“gee i wonder why?” your voice came out sarcastically. “i don’t ignore people unlike a certain someone.”

“just sit down, will you?” jaehyun seemed to take the fact to heart.

you complied and sat exact the same as he did. the tiled floor sent cool to your legs but it didn’t really matter. jaehyun began by asking how you got into art; what motivated you to choose this field. “it’s just a childhood dream of mine to keep expanding my creativity. i wanna teach kids the joy in paint, that we’re not limited to using tools. i started painting with my hands and fingers when i was five.”

“really? i’m the same, except i was three when i painted.” his dimples deepening.

though you did answer him, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole story. you were just par in the arts, an average joe and always felt like your professors tied your wings together to express what you really wanted. every proposal you presented were rejected. if lucky, it still wasn’t good enough. not enough to reach jaehyun’s standards and world.

his shoes hit your hips again, the nudges were light and made you look to him. “your turn.” he said.

your eyes wander the dark room, the thin light from the sides of the door showing the outline of his face. “is it good? being called something you never wanted to be? did you know you’re gifted as a kid?”

“do you want my honest opinion?” he brought one leg to his chest, forearm resting on it as he start to ponder. hearing the soft shuffles from you in agreement, he gulped his dry throat to say the one thing he longed to say.

“i don’t like it.”

beyond speechless. you thought maybe he’d like the feeling of being center of attraction, or praised to have a skill that was out of this world. while you’d like to know what it felt like, it already told you enough that he wouldn’t want to be referred to as a prodigy. “not even a single bit?” alarmed, you squinted your eyes and he shook his head.

“i used to like it at first.. now i don’t,” jaehyun admitted but his face had changed the moment you asked him the one thing he never wanted to look back. “..because i was set apart from kids my age and they view me differently, nor have they ever treated me like every kid in the block.“

he continued how parents would tell him he was ‘inspiring’ or ‘i wish i had a kid like you; dedicated, and talented’. the claim have made him proud, yet this caused insecurity to most of his friends, and they distanced themselves from him. what was once the same ground they stood upon, it had quaked the earth and caused a wide gap. jaehyun hated the feeling of isolation by the will of others. though he had tried many times to reach out to them..

the gap continued to widen.

“there’s not much of a difference now.” he whispered yet audible enough for you to hear. ”i still have less friends. countable with fingers.. on one hand.”

probably the reason why he looked like a snob then.

“i see. so am i?.. part of your ‘friends’?” he heard you ask when reality hits you that you shouldn’t have said your thoughts out loud. closing your eyes for a bit, you heard the shift in his weight, he didn’t answer right away. it was as if he was still finding the words.

but he sat right beside you. “you’re already one when we both entered this classroom. i had a hunch you’ll be one i’ll treasure.”

if anyone was told the way he did just now, it would definitely make them smile. that was his honest opinion and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. he seemed to notice this too and let out a chuckle that was always music to your ears. “should we try to open the door again?” you changed the topic to avoid the awkward smile creeping your face. your hands gripped the knob and jaehyun tugged the hems of your jeans.

“y/n, if you do it further we’ll be damned if hyejin couldn’t open from the outside.” he stood that he was already behind you. “i’m not stopping you from trying though.”

“f-fine.” you leaned against the door, soothing your legs that experienced paresthesia. jaehyun pat your head like he always did whenever you unintentionally embarrass yourself, be it art or not whatsoever. “i just can’t seem to stay still.” oh gosh i don’t know what i’d do if i’m alone with him.

“yeah clearly.” he shrugged.

you had a scowled face and glad he didn’t see it. “the place’s so cramped-” you continued, walking to the chair you once stood on, only to lose balance when the shelves you held for support gave in to collapse from the weight it carried. with weight, the whole furniture wobbled to fall.

in a split second you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, a strong arm wrapping around your frame and saw yourself at the opposing side of the room. jaehyun closed into you as he managed to stop the some items from falling. the entire body of the cabinet covered and trapped you both in a tight place. the furniture tilted right behind him. one small move, the items could injure two and he didn’t want to risk that.

he could feel your breath touch his shirt and with the way you held his clothes, you definitely didn’t see this coming. “are you okay?” he thought there was a possibility of squishing you.

“uncomfortable, but i’ll manage.. somehow.” you honestly replied because there was no point in lying to him.. physically speaking, he’d know what you feel since he himself was also in discomfort. anyway, with your answer, this marked the third silence as there was another one creating yet another gap in the conversation.

okay y/n. you told yourself. you made everything awkward than before. first was you asked whether you were friends, which you already were. second was your stupid and careless behaviour that led to the position you’re both in now.

“what about you?” you asked after seeing the huge frame towering over both of your bodies, mostly onto his. so maybe that was another unnecessary question to ask.

jaehyun gulped and fixed his one of his palms that he gripped on the shelf behind you. you could see his adam’s apple move up and down, struggling to breathe. he pushed backwards to be able to see your face. tilting his head down, that movement alone made you look up. “uncomfortable, but i’ll somehow manage.” he smiled even though you knew he wasn’t.

“you know you’ll earn zero marks if you copy my answer.” you giggled, remembering the professor’s words at the beginning of the semester.

he flicked your forehead as he agreed with the obvious statement. “i heard him. anyway, it’s my turn to ask.”

“are we really playing the game now? can we at least try to figure how to get out of this position?” you began to whine and threw your head back where you hit your head, and you didn’t care how shameful you felt. you knew you wouldn’t stand any longer, your legs started to weaken because of stress— stress from everything jaehyun managed to make you feel, that included the little smiles and especially his hand around your waist.

jaehyun didn’t know why he put his palms behind your head before the incident happened but he knew he had to, with the way you flustered so much. he figured that you weren’t used to situations like these.

however a memory slipped into his mind that you were always your usual self with other guys around. he noticed how you held or hiccuped a breath whenever you both conversed. you and him weren’t particularly close to begin with, just enough to pass as friends and maybe it was his love for art that brought that gap closer to you.

right now? perhaps too close. literally.

“why not? it gets more fun.” he tried to hide the smile creeping his lips; at the sight of how irritated you were beneath him and he actually considered your plead to get you both to safety. but maybe he’d like to enjoy a little bit before doing so. “besides, there’s no way we can move properly with a lot of things blocking our surroundings.”

on both sides, the two of you were encased with large items and materials that were affected by the impact. “tsk.” you tilted your head to avoid looking at him. “at least try to push the huge cabinet?”

he did as he was told and from the grunts and exhausted voice, jaehyun gave up trying. “i don’t think i can. something’s probably caught in the gap between the wall and the furniture.” he tried to look over his shoulder to see if he was right.

“i thought prodigies don’t give up.” your voice sounded challenging to him.

“within the spectrum of our skill, we don’t. but outside our gift, we have the choice to.” jaehyun flicked your forehead again. “we get tired too.”

there was less force against your torso, he was trying to push the furniture again and you bubbled out a giggle. “wow you aren’t as cool as i thought you were.”

jaehyun wanted to hit you as you were being too playful at the wrong time. but as he brought his hand up, you closed your eyes shut to brace for the sharp impact. he sighed and his stomach growled in the most embarrassing way yet. “ugh, it’s because i haven’t eaten enough. i don’t have any strength left.” his stomach then growled louder.

maybe it was due to your bodies against each other’s and the heat starting to roam around the room. jaehyun clicked his tongue at the continuous mimicking of yours. “c’mon y/n i can’t be the only one doing the work here. help me push this heavy thing behind me.”

“uh no? do you think i could even help? don’t make me uncomfortable than i’m already am.” you moaned at the pain starting to grow along your spine. arching your back to avoid the discomfort from the shelves wasn’t really a good idea.

“ah you’re uncomfortable?” he implored with a smirk, his voice quite menacing as he leaned in to squeeze you between the cabinet behind you and himself.

for the whole time jaehyun knew that you didn’t mean whatever you said. he loved how you surprise him everyday and tonight he found you quite cheeky, and adorable too. by quite, it meant that you were like a child wanting to go home. a huff from him felt like the gust of wind. “‘i don’t have any strength left’.” you copied his words. seeing his lips pout, it was alright to give in. “will you treat me food if i help?” you returned the question because you treated him.

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” he suddenly said, with a soft chuckle, you knew he was smiling. it had gotten you speechless that it was hard to tell whether he said knowingly or not. “we can buy what the other wants after we get out of here, okay?” his attempt to get the wood off him yet again failed.

you clapped your hands quite hyperactively and squealed as if he asked you out on a date. “oh yay! okay. i wouldn’t want to be rained on for another hour anyway.” you teased, in which he exhaled heavily from his nostrils.

“i’m not that sweaty.” he grumbled, almost vibrating with the exertion of his energy.

“just perspiring.” you added.

he hit your head with his, for sure you’ll have a prominent bruise and that would make you a victim for hyejin for the next few days. or tonight, if she would get you both out. “that’s the same meaning.”

it took less than two minutes to take the weight off his back. jaehyun saw everything in slow motion— he was falling backwards and you, frontwards. “whoa!” for a moment you thought you hit yourself on a wall. that was for a brief second before the impact was replaced by a warm hug.

you checked if he was okay, he became your safe fall and again he saved you when you didn’t ask for it. “i didn’t expect.. i’m sorry.” you pressed your lips realising you were in between his legs.

he hissed at the pain and sat tiredly on the floor, using all of the fabrics of his clothes to wipe the sweat. “it’s okay.” he patted your back.

“right.. this is awkward. i better get off..” you chuckled and dusted your clothes awkwardly but what he said next really caught you off guard.

“do you want to do it?” he queried, taking you back as your head shot up and hit his chin with your forehead.

you blinked several times. “d-do what?” is this another question i won’t be able to answer?

there was a shaky grip on your waist, your heart hammered and you were afraid that he would hear it. “y’know what i’m talking about.” he put the hair strands away so he would be able to see your face under the lines of slim light.

“i don’t?” you choked on your own saliva. what was he talking about?

jaehyun’s breath made you freeze on the spot, along sudden silence. he giggled softly. “such a waste, you even have a perfect body.”

then the conversation from the two girls at the cafeteria entered your mind right when you thought deep. hold on, the rumours can’t be true..

he stood up shortly, cornering you by the door and the lights revealed his eyes, smiling shyly. “you have perfect proportions.” as of now, you were a little nervous. you couldn’t process what you were hearing from your crush’s lips and looked away where you could see hyejin’s figure closing the studio’s door.

finally hyejin’s here. i have to tell him. “uh jaehyu-”

“can you be my model?” he held your hands.

oh shoot it is true?

“i need someone to pose for my next art portrait and you’re the only one i can ask.”

‘well aren’t you quite the deep thinker~’ you could imagine hyejin’s voice telling you off at the back of your mind. you shook your head and shut your eyes for her imaginary presence to go away, making you miss seeing jaehyun’s expression turn to a small pout.

suddenly you felt like your soul left your body. what were you thinking y/n?! erase the thought! cleanse your mind from what you heard from the girls!

now you stopped being an embarrassment, you looked at him. however, before you could answer, the door swung open, causing you both to fall over and adjust to the lights above you. hyejin looked down at the two of you, her bubblegum popping with brows raised. “girl, i texted you back and said i’m opening the door. didn’t you see- oh, did i come at the wrong time?”

jaehyun quickly got on his toes, ears turning red while you covered your face in embarrassment. “this is a misunderstanding hyejin!” he stuttered and fixed his collar. you dug for your phone to check the message, but it died long before.

she blew another bubble and popped. “mhm, i can see that.” she winked at the both of you and turned to leave.

“hyejin!” you whined and clung on her legs.

“i’m leaving!” she singsonged and shook her ankles like you were a bug. “i’m giving you more alone time with your muse!”

“oh my g- you!” you chased her down. “quiet!”

she laughed cheekily and managed to exit the studio, sticking out her tongue and pointed behind you. ‘walk home with him!’ hyejin mouthed, and you couldn’t be more annoyed with her because that was indeed true. what was once a wishful thinking became reality. she knew you more than you did yourself.

as you sighed heavily, it got you hitching a breath that jaehyun might’ve heard and saw the whole thing. you turned around and he was packing his stuff, yours included. the artworks were left untouched since you both would be back here tomorrow. he gave your bag and you chose to not talk because you didn’t have the audacity to do. “so, uh. what were you saying earlier?” you hoped he would forget what he just saw.

“oh y-yeah. lemme just-” he took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “..rephrase it- wait i’m your muse?”

of course he wouldn’t forget, it just happened. damn you, hyejin! you slouched on a nearby chair and wore your hood. “i was hoping you wouldn’t find out so soon.”

“i’m flattered. thanks.” his dimples hollowed. “i was asking if you could be my reference for my next art piece..” he trailed off recalling that you declined. “..though you shook your head quickly than i thought.”

“huh i did?” your voice affirming. “oh gosh i think i did.. i’m sorry i was hearing hyejin in my head when you said that.”

jaehyun’s eyes widened when all he heard was pure honesty from you. “so will you do it for me?”

“as long as i wear clothes while at it.” you consented with your arms crossed and began to feel heat spread your whole body at the thought of the rumour.

walking along the hallway, only the sounds of shoes grazing the carpet echoed the area. you didn’t know what else to say. he brought you to the nearest convenient store where the campus’ one was closed at the hour. the food you bought turned cold and you couldn’t afford to get sick because of it.

he pulled the chair for you to sit on. “you heard them as well.” he placed his bag down. he was aware of the rumours found around and was shocked to know you knew them too. “they’re not true.”

you propped your chin as he went back to the topic. “i know.” you agreed to his words. “they don’t describe you at all.”

jaehyun sat comfortably, a smirk appearing. “me being your muse fits the description-”

this guy.. “please don’t bring that up.” you pleaded with hands clasped.

“i’m teasing.” he chuckled. “i don’t mind if you refuse want to be my model.” he said. “but i assure i’m not like other artists who paints their naked model. i have a better plan for you.”

he was trying to convince you into his world and you were slowly getting into it. “that’s like saying you really want me to.” you took your wallet and he followed suit.

“what’s wrong with wanting to paint my new muse?” he slid his chair closer to the table; closer so he could see your reactions to his honesty.

when he said that, you never turned away so fast in your life. your chest never thumped so loudly and your eyes fluttered while he continued to press onto his question. 

an assuring smile showed on your lips and he mirrored it, already knowing your response. “nope, nothing wrong at all.” you shyly accepted his request.

jaehyun then stood to get the orders, his fingers warning you that the late dinner would be on him. your heart experienced blossoms and giddiness you hoped it’d stay forever. who knows? maybe being each other’s muse could turn into something more after tonight.  

[junipedia]

OK SO HERES THE FIRST 2 CHAPTERS I KNOW THEYRE NOT GREAT BUT ITS FINE

Hunting season

Dull. This day feels dull. I mean that’s how Oregon weather usually is, grey thick clouds layered over the sky like a weighted blanket threatening to fall with water at any moment. Heavy underbrush making the already crowded  woods feel even more claustrophobic. Sneakers seeming to sink further into the wet moss with every step like the woods itself was trying to reclaim you. The snap of a twin you'd hear every once and awhile filling your imagination with every reason besides a rational one as to what it could have been. As unsettling as the woods here are, they bring a sense of comfort and peace like even if something was watching you out there it had no fowl intent with you. Night on the other hand was when those vicious creators came out to prowl. Those snaps of trees turning into something that could be hunting you, chasing you. The paths you thought you knew so well turning into a maze of inkyblack darkness that's reaching out for you…

   

    The snapping sound was louder today than it usually was. My face pointed towards the tops of the dying trees, half expecting to see something looking back at me but just being met with a flock of geese flying overhead. The snapping started up suddenly, whipping my face back down to eye level trying to see through the thick ferns and weeds. It sounded like a bulldozer headed straight for me. “Oh my fucking god, Athena” i let out the heaviest sigh of relife once I saw the fluffy tail zig-zagging around. I stood upright and rubbed my face, someone must have let her out after I had already left. The only way back to the house was the way I had come. Which was a steep forgotten road that always seemed to stay a bit to be taken care of for being abandoned. Athena rushed past me hitting the breaks when she got to the bottom of the hill. She stopped though her always wagging tail stopping and dropping in between her legs. I stopped. She only ever did that if she was scared or was seeing something she didn't like. I just stood and watched her. If there truly was a threat there she would let me know, show some sign that the area was suddenly dangerous. it couldn't have been a person because if that was the case she would have started barking. In less than a minute her tail was back up and she was trotting away like she was only seconds ago.

   

“That's a big dog” perched between the underbrush a person sat hunched over making intense eye contact with the canine. He dealt with big dogs but he'd usually know about them beforehand. Well, it wasn't like he DIDN'T know about Athena. He'd been out here watching this family for a while now. He didn't have any tv or media so he liked watching the family's he was camped near for however long he was staying. He'd been in these woods for a while playing cat and mouse with the hunting dogs that the people on this hill owned. Watching this family was the only source of entertainment. He thought it was funny how they argued almost exactly how his family would have, the only reason it was different was that instead of these parents holding it against each other they would sweep it under the carpet only to let it bubble over and resurface in later conversations. The oldest was the most fun to watch. Seeing how each day she drove herself into the ground trying to be the best for everyone just to let them down like she had feared. He thought her name was ironic because it held so much truth, she was just a scared little bunny adopted by wolves trying to also just be a wolf. He stared back at the dog waiting for it to do something. He'd actually grown fond of the pooch so it brought a sliver of warmth when she didn't bark or snarl at him.

    “Athena!” I walked to join her, giving her a scratch behind the ears. She wasn't acting strange anymore meaning whatever had spooked her must have left before i could see it.

Walking away I popped my knuckles against the opposing hand.

           

Pop crackle snap

I stopped, those were cracking joints but. Not my joints. I turned back in the direction id came from. Athena was already long gone from the house so if something was there I'd have to see for myself. I raised my hand up near my face pressing down on one of my fingers until it let out a loud pop. I waited but sure enough a louder crack came from in front of me somewhere. Hesitantly taking steps forward i'd let out a pop only for it to be followed by a louder more aggressive one. I crouched down thinking it could have been in the trees. I brought my hand to my chin and turned it, letting out a chorus of snaps. 

Silence. A slow breath escaped me from relief that is until a grotesque song of crunches and bones grinding together. I turn my heaad my eyes meeting with wide crazed one frantically trying to focus on me but the spastic movemts of its shoulders and neck making it hard to look at one thing. I couldn't even make a noise, i knew there was a homeless camp near my house but i had never actually seen any of them. It grabbed my shoulders so tight it was painful. My back hitting the ground causing the air to slip out of my lungs. Its shoulders were still rapidly moving as it pressed its hand around its jaw covering my mouth. My hands shot up and tried to push at its face and chest. I didn't know what to do. It was on me weighing me to the ground. The hoodie it had on covering its body type hiding how strong it could really be. There was nothing i could do, it was obviously stronger than me. 

Something must have switched in my brain to say “move idiot if you don't you'll probably die in these woods” I opened my mouth as wide as i could, biting down on the top of its hand. Blood seeping into my teeth and gums. The strong taste of iron filled my mouth as I heard the crunch of the bone I had hit. A mixture of saliva and blood pooling out of my mouth all around and down my chin. It didn't move, didn't even flinch.

   

               

Bears trap

He panicked. What else was he going to do, his tics had ever reacted that badly before to someone else's. He held her down, his hand almost covered half her face. He tried to tilt his head to look at her but it just came off as more jerks and pulls from his muscles`just like a bunny” he thought, if he moved his hand just right it could break her in just an instinct. Just like that she’d be gone. His thoughts were interrupted by the crunching of his hand. He watched her try and basically chew her way away from him. “The bunni thinks she's a wolf now” he watched her for a second again before taking his other hand and picking up a good sized rock.

    “This is it” I watched him raise the rock, tightly closing my eyes. The only thing I felt was an extreme headache before I just went numb and limp.

      “Why is it so cold” was my first thought when I started coming again. Sitting up the familiar sound of a tent zipper opening caught my attention. I tried to sit up and  got trapped in the thin sleeping bag I had been in.This was the first time I had seen him at least somewhat up right. He was at least a foot taller than me, leaning into the tent like he was the one cautious of me. He crawled into the tent looking at me, his eyes not as crazed as before but still holding a feeling that at any moment this bomb could go off. He didn't speak as he inched closer and closer. He then reached his hand out. His finger shook as I leaned back but was trapped by the tent. A hot pain running through my back as he touched my forehead where the rock must have hit me. The mask covering his mouth hid what emotion he was truly portraying at the moment. The hand he touched my head with was bandaged, reminding me of the bite I had given him. I raised my hand and wiped my mouth, sticky red blood still coming off meaning that it really hadn't been all that long since all that had happened but just long enough to get dark and colder outside. I opened my mouth but didn't even get a chance to speak before he beat me to it “just dont just dont yell” it took me back to hear him. 

This obviously isn't an adult just by the voice. His voice was raspy and almost menacing.  Even if he was my age he was still just a kid. We didn't say anything for a while, just analyzing each other like it was a mutual agreement that we would let each other realize what was actually happening before doing anything rash. Yeah, he may have basically kidnapped me but that didn't mean I had to be a dick to him. I don't know how long we stared at each other, it could have been hours or only minutes but after that he crawled further into the tent and simply laid down. Almost like he was just watching me to see if i would do anything to try and leave or get away from him. The only thing keeping the tent illuminated was a small battery operated lantern that was barely bright enough to light up the small tent. He sat up again and looked at me just to turn the lanter off. I could hear him shifting around, maybe to take his mask off. We just laid in silence for what felt like forever. “Aren't you cold” even though I was staying quiet it sounded like I was yelling in the small tent. There was no answer for a moment just the sound of him moving around again. I thought maybe he was asleep before I heard a deep inhale. “no” there was a long silence again before he spoke ”are y-you cold cold?” i hesitated before answering “yeah….i guess i am pretty cold”.

   

 Again there was silence before he moved. I felt him come closer to me before feeling one of his arms touch me. This wasn't right. Not even twelve hours ago he had been the one to bash me over the head with a rock to take me to whatever kinda temporary camp this was. He must have read the room because he stopped and waited. I really took a moment to think about what was happening. Everything was happening way too fast but at the same time the little I've seen of him has shown me that even if he is my age he's clearly unstable. If I didn't let him do what he wanted he could blow at any moment and I really don't know what he's capable of.

He waited for another moment before moving towards me again. He stiffly wrapped his arms around me, even though it was awkward and uncomfortable the warmth he gave off was a nice change from the harsh forest cold.my mind must have just fallen unconscious at some point because the next thing i knew the tent was lit with the dull sunlight that was managing to come through the overlay of clouds. He wasn't next to me anymore but the smell of smoke burned my nose as I could hear the sound of fire crackling and snapping outside the tent.I slowly unzipped the front and peaked out. He was sitting with his back to the tent facing the homemade fire pit that he had made.

   

Toby hated the fire. He hated all the pain that it has caused him but it was something that he simply couldn't avoid. One of the things he liked about the fire now was that he could tame it, control when it grew and when it withered away. He looked down at his bandaged hand. He hadn't slept last night, he was too nervous to make even the slightest movement just in case it would wake her. The warmth she had given off was...new. “Why did you let me hold you?” he spoke down into his hands, the zipper making him turn around to face her.

   

They both froze like deer in the headlights again.

No mask. He wasn't wearing his mask right now. He looked so normal. He just stared at me for a while and I stared back at him.  Him turning back towards the fire was enough for me to snap back out of it. He poked the fire with a stick, moving a few blackened sticks around to stir up the fire causing embers to rise up into the early overcasted sky. I scurried around him and sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching him through the flames. His eyes shot up at mine like he suddenly felt my eyes on him. His stare was so intense i wouldn't say lifeless no, there was something buried deep behind those eyes doing something to him. I looked back down into the fire, what was there to talk about? Did he even want to talk? I just want to go home.

“Were you cold l-last last night?” I looked at him furrowing my eyebrows together. ‘This man bashes me in the head with a rock but is worried I was too cold?’ I shifted my weight, pulling my legs closer to myself. “I was fine.” There was a long silence after that before either of us even thought to move. He was the first one to move, getting up and grabbing something from the tent. “Where are you going?” he actually seemed shocked that I asked “getting more fire-wood” the moment he said that my eyes snapped back towards the fire. This could be my chance to run.

[lemonietrinket]

Flirt ||| Wonpil x Reader

summary: wonpil is acting strange. and you have a... small theory as to what he’s doing but that would mean accepting that your feelings are mutual. and can you believe that? no. not yet. but maybe someone will help you to.

genre: flirty... fluff? i guess some attempts of (niche) humour warning(s): occasional foul language (1x s**t) word count: 2038 song(s): baby - astro an: sorry it took a little while anon! i struggled to start this one for some reason? anyway i hope you enjoy it! it’s a lot longer than i intended. again. oops.

non-idol!au

~~~

you couldn’t tell what was up with wonpil. it wasn’t like he’d been acting this way for weeks or even days—in fact, this strange air that had overtaken him had only begun an hour ago, when you had arrived at their place with another of your friends—and yet he seemed such a different person to what you normally saw of him. sure he was affectionate, and cuddly, and could often say odd phrases that could be wildly construed as meaning things he most probably did not. but not to this level. because now, catching the abnormal glint in his eye, you could have sworn he did mean it. and you were torn between wanting to shy away to save your heart the pain of bursting, as well as never wanting him to stop.

because truth be told, these displays were the boldest indicators that he actually liked you back. he wasn’t just holding onto your arm because that’s what he did with people he was close with, he was holding onto your arm because he wanted to be close to you, and his hands only drifted away gradually as if he wanted to return. he wasn’t seemingly biting his lip out of deep thought anymore either—how could he be, when he seemed to make such strong yet brief eye contact with you while he did so? he didn’t clear the corner of your lip with a napkin like he usually did if there was a crumb there, he did it with the tip of his thumb instead, with a napkin right there—

and quite honestly, you didn’t know what to do about it all. it was as if your dreams were being presented to you on a platter, and all you had to do was be bold enough to take them but in the end you could never truly be sure enough to do so.

it had continued all throughout the evening. whenever you spoke to him even on the smallest and most insignificant of matters, those deep spools of onyx stared right into your soul, and seemed to settle there comfortably, while his usual bright smile was replaced by a dimmer one. you had worried if he was upset at first, until the possibility dawned on you that that was what a wonpil smirk looked like. it unnerved you that you’d never seen one before, and you quickly shrugged it off. 

though your mind continued to question what the hell he was up to.

with cheeks flushed and eyes focused on your meal, you avoided your friends’ stares, until one finally gathered the confidence to ask. 

“you alright, y/n?” it was younghyun. which meant you should really respond.

plastering the most convincing smile you could muster on your face—which surely couldn’t have been too unconvincing since you were slightly delirious with the possibility of your dreams coming true—and raised your head confidently to answer him. “yeah! i’m fine, just tired!”

“right, you look a bit hot,” sungjin continued, gesturing to his cheeks to represent yours. 

feeling the eyes upon you, it took you a few seconds to work out what excuse to use. unfortunately, those moments were all that wonpil needed to strike again with his sudden flustering confidence. “too right they do,” he said simply. 

jae broke into laughter as dowoon subtly choked on his ramen. your friend meanwhile, having been close colleague to you for a couple of solid months (which was not long enough to know anywhere near a hundred percent of what anyone was really like), giggled and teasingly piped up, “oooh, someone’s got a crush!”

you rolled your eyes at how cringey she sounded, as well as to cover for just how the mention of wonpil liking you in that way made your face no doubt heat up even more. sungjin though spoke up quickly to clarify, whilst the others just laughed, “no no, he means like they do look hot—not hot as in attractive, hot as in genuinely... high temperature.”

with the others distracted you felt your eyes drawn to the man sat directly opposite to you, and what you found there was truly heart-stopping.

he was smiling. which was bad enough for your stability, as whenever he beamed you felt your spirits lift and the world brighten, as if nothing bad could happen, and that you were truly cared for by somebody. but this time, once again, that smile had that bold undertone. that gleaming gaze. if you would ever a simp, it would be for this man and this man alone.

however, things didn’t end there.

“you should get some water,” jae suggested, chuckles dying down as he nodded in encouragement. “it’ll help, park’s word.”

“good idea, i’ll come w—”

younghyun had begun, but before he could even put his empty plate on the coffee table, he was forced to halt in his tracks.

“no, i’ll do it!” wonpil interjected, “i’ll help them.” 

within moments he was up on his feet, food practically discarded, his bandmate left to lean back in his chair, wondering what had just happened. or at least that’s what you thought of the situation.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

absentmindedly, you had trundled after wonpil as soon as he’d offered to accompany you, simply because you couldn’t imagine not going with him. wherever this man went you would go. but no, you weren’t totally, utterly in love—pah, of course not.

reaching the kitchen, when you saw there was enough space, you scarpered around him and straight over to the cupboard to get yourself a glass. jae had been right, you really did need something to cool you down.  the room remained silent as you heard the conversation in the living room pick up once again, muffled by your overwhelming heart beat. you avoiding his gaze by keeping your head towards your glass and your back turned. wonpil didn’t seem to make any attempt of moving across from the opposite stretch of counters like you expected he would. nor did he speak for the longest time, which worried you more than all of the ‘flirting’ (you weren’t sure if you should pin it as that just yet) combined. 

eventually though, the quiet was broken. 

“why were they all laughing?” he enquired, voice a dab closer to the usual soft pili you knew inside and out. 

you figured that indicated the ‘flirting’ explanation was less probable. either way, you explained while pouring water into the glass. never did you think you would be staring at the quickly popping bubbles of a boring old drink over the most gorgeous man you ever met. “because it sounded like you were saying that i was attractive-hot, rather than hot-hot,” you chuckled half-heartedly, “don’t worry, it happens to the best of us, english sucks.”

there was another moment of peace and you figured he wouldn’t talk and expect you answer for a bit, so you took a sip of water. the ice met fire and you could feel your heartbeat begin to slow from its incessant march.

that was, before his voice returned, a lot more shy than just mere minutes prior. “but... that is how i meant it.”

you choked on your drink, and within a single second you were ready to implode all over again.

he rushed to your side and it was like your cheeks couldn’t get any redder. his hand tapped your back lightly as he repeated apology after apology. though through your coughs, you smiled—properly this time. because your normal wonpil was pretty much back. big eyes wide and shining, voice sweet rather than sultry, and at your side.

“it’s ok, i’m fine,” you urged, clearing your throat before taking another sip to help more effectively this round. 

he waited for you to finish this time before speaking in a whisper, “i’m why you’re blushing, aren’t i.” 

he looked so earnest, so sincere.

“n-no.” you cursed your cowardice. this would have been the moment to admit everything, to tell him of all the feelings you’d failed to confess for so long. 

“its ok, i know, you’re the reason why i am too.”

not that it really mattered, as he already knew. 

thoughts running along cogs in your head, it took you a few moments to gather what he was inferring. 

but it was true. so focused inwardly, on keeping yourself together, you hadn’t even regarded the face of the man you liked so dearly. whipping your head across to him, you found his cheeks flushed rose just like yours, though admittedly less rampant. 

“you... you know?” you stammered, forcing yourself to inhale. you needed to stay alive at least long enough to hear the rest of what he had to say, otherwise everything up to this point had been for nothing.

at this point however, he looked sheepish. guilty even, with his lips pressing firmly together as his eyes began to avoid yours, flitting around the kitchen haphazardly.

“yeah. i... kinda found out yesterday.”

“yesterday?!” you exclaimed. “how?” you didn’t let him reply as you immediately moved on. “wait, that’s what this was all about? all those lingering touches and gazes and the... the cleaning of my lips without a napkin?!”

he nodded.

“pil, you shit!” a laugh broke through your curse.

wonpil began to whine nonetheless. “look! you made me flustered this whole time! and i-i wanted to be confident to you! for once... like younghyun! he’s confident to people he likes—”

“you made me flustered too! this whole time! outside of like... whatever happened today,” you insisted. however, your voice lowered soon after as you turned away from the counter to face him fully. “wonpil, i only want you to be yourself though, ok? you don’t have to be like younghyun, i love you just the way you are.”

his head lifted to reveal that characteristic smile slowly growing upon his lips. “you love me?”

your eyes widened in horror at what you’d let slip. breath hitching in your throat and leaving you completely unable to explain what had just happened, you needn’t have worried so much. wonpil’s bright smile only continued to beam and soon, his arms were around you.  you clutched to him out of reflex, inhaling deeply and letting his presence calm you at last. his hair was soft by your cheek, grip tight at your shirt as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. 

“i love you too,” he murmured after relishing in the peace, and with your heart fluttering you embraced him tighter. it had been such a convoluted way to end up with your dreams right in your lap but you didn’t care. he was here now. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“ha! i win, hand over suckers!”

several sighs and groans merged behind you, and you pulled away slightly to see what on earth was going on. there you found your friend, stood proudly at the front, with her open palms being filled with the eventual equivalent of a wad of cash. only sungjin didn’t seem to be taking part. when her hand was pushed towards him, he shook his head.

“no i didn’t take part.”

when she looked quizzically over at him, younghyun stated, “would have been his fourth time.”

unfortunately it didn’t add much clarity. “what?”

you heard wonpil whine, arms still loosely looped round the small of your back and you offered him an apologetic smile.  taking a deep breath, you pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, and laughed at how his blush began to slowly return. 

“you want to get out of this joint?”

he giggled. “yeah, it’s dull. ice creams?”

“perfect. move it losers, we’re coming through,” you chucked over your shoulder jokingly, and with an arm around him you lead the two of you out of the kitchen. the small crowd instantly parted for you to make your way through but not without a couple of cheers, mostly from jae. 

although as you passed, you felt the overwhelming urging hand of curiosity push you to ask wonpil, “hey, how did you know?”

“w-well—”

“to be fair, everyone knew, so it only seemed fair,” interjected a deep voice from the sidelines. 

“dowoon?!”

~~~

an: i’ve just realised that this may not work in korean? so... in this world they all magically speak fluent english too yay.

masterlist

[nat-roman0ff]

saturday, wait

the here and now; sequel to another certain time and place (read the full series in my masterlist)

ii. saturday, wait the one where time starts to catch up wc: 2454 warnings: mentions of depression, bad words, and fluff

---

The skies of Toronto opened up Saturday morning at about 5am. She only knew this because there was a gutter that ran above the window on their bedroom balcony door that constantly overfilled. The steady drip drip woke her up from a very lovely dream to a cold and lonely bed. 

 Shawn had been gone for just over a month now and the loneliness was beginning to set in. He’d insisted she move into the condo before he left, so they scattered at the last second to bring all her things over in time for him to take off on the last leg of tour. She rolls over to stare at Shawn’s unmade side of the bed and sighs. There’s not a single wrinkle in the white of his duvet. The condo still didn’t feel like it was quite theirs; but more like she was on an extended house sitting visit. She played through the motions (oftentimes accidentally setting off his stereo system that she still didn’t know how to work) and kept the household going. 

 She watches the fat drops of water slam and streak down the glass of the balcony door. The skies seem to hang low today, and everything is covered in a sheet of gray. She grabs her phone to confirm the time and rolls her face into her pillow to scream in frustration. 

There’s an itch she can’t quite scratch. It’s the weekend - which means she doesn’t have to do anything. But she can’t stand staying at the condo, it’s a constant reminder that Shawn isn’t here and she is. It’s like a tomb of memories that she can never escape, every step is a reminder that he’s on the road and she’s not waking up in his arms every morning. But, she lacks the energy to actually do anything. Plans with friends go cancelled and never rescheduled, and as the days pass she becomes increasingly homebound, despite the pain it causes her. 

 Tossing and turning, she ends up staring at the ceiling. She watches the memories project onto the ceiling like old school films, playing over and over, just there to remind her of her loneliness. There’s no escape from him here, but her brain and heavy heart tell her to just stay in bed.

 Just get up and pee, go make yourself some toast, pour a cup of coffee, anything. She begs to herself but its like she’s chained to the bed and without the responsibilities of work (on the days she’d actually shown up lately), she can’t seem to make herself move.

 Around six thirty her phone buzzes. Her eyes blink lazily. She knows it’s Shawn but she’s not in a rush to answer. Despite missing him at the depths of her core she’s not desperate for him. She doesn't want FaceTime or phone calls, she doesn’t want a goodnight text or a morning meme. She wants him here, next to her in this empty fucking bed. 

 Her hand reaches onto the bedside table and grabs her phone. Of course it’s a message from Shawn as she suspected. It’s a simple one;

 good morning, gremlin. i know you’re probably still snoozing but i wanted you to have something to wake up to. day off today, so call me when you get up and we can facetime a bit. love youuuuuuuuuuuu.

 It almost hurts to smile, it’s been a while. 

 hi bub. feeling down this morning and could stand to hear your voice. call me when you’re able to, i’m just laying in bed.

 The phone rings almost instantly, “hi baby,” Shawn says, his voice low, still groggy with sleep.

 “Hi,” she manages, her own voice cracking. 

 “What’s got you up so early?” He asks. 

 “Rain.” 

 Shawn laughs, “that damn gutter, huh?” 

 “Yeah.” 

 He notices her shortness and knows it’s not from tiredness but tells himself so anyways. He doesn’t want to be a thousand miles away worried about his girlfriend back at home. Maybe he’ll call his mom later to pop over and check on her or call a mutual friend to take her out for lunch. Shawn knows she’s taken it hard, it was a different type of goodbye now than before when they were just friends. 

 “Do you have any plans this weekend?” Shawn asks.

 She yawns, “not really. Maybe read a book or do some laundry.” 

 “Oh,” he pips, “I could have my mum come over and visit for a bit.” 

 “You don’t have to do that Shawn,” it comes out almost venomous. 

 He sighs, “I’m just worried. People have been telling me you’re not going out much, cancelling on them last minute. Are you okay, baby?” 

 She breathes in deep and lets out a long single breath, “no.” 

 There’s no stopping the floodgate of tears that happens then. It’s not just him being gone, either. Work is exhausting and uninspiring and she feels herself slipping away from the things she loved to do, and the people she loved to do things with. 

 “Fuck, I wish I could come home,” Shawn breathes. 

 He doesn’t make her talk, he doesn’t ask questions. He just lets her cry and it takes everything in his power not to cry with her because he can feel his heart shattering as she gasps for breaths between sobs and he hates himself for not being there and holding her in his arms.

 When she’s finished, she’s silent. Neither of them speak for a while and she waits until her breathing has returned to normal and her face is wiped dry of tears to speak, “I’m sorry.” 

 “W-what?” Shawn sputters, “baby, do not apologize. I want to make sure you’re alright. I’m gonna come home. I don’t care if it’s for an hour. I’m coming home. If I leave for the airport now there’s a flight that will get me there this afternoon. Can you pick me up at the airport at three?” 

 “Shawn that’s crazy, you’re going to be so tired. I’ll go see your parents or something. I’ll be fine, I’m just in a funk,” she pleads. The last thing she wants to do is cause issues and force him home just because she’s sad. 

 Well, she’s more than just sad she thinks. She’s depressed, and she knows it. And the sooner she accepts it, the better off she’ll probably be. Depression is a slippery and nonlinear slope. At first she trips into it, noticing she’s more disengaged than usual, then the anxiety and overthinking kicks in, followed up with isolation until eventually the days blend so fluidly together she can’t tell if it’s June or Saturday.

 She can never pinpoint exactly when it happens, at least not until she’s drowning in her own sorrow and can’t get herself out. When bed is the only place she wants to be and she hasn’t eaten or drank in thirty-six hours. 

 “No, I’m coming home or I’m bringing you to me. Take your pick.” 

 She sighs, “just come home.” 

 ---

 Her thumb nervously taps the steering wheel as she waits outside the arrivals terminal at Toronto Pearson. She’s chewed her lower lip in to bits and it’s sore and chapped. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and wore one of Shawn’s teeshirts and a pair of leggings for the occasion. There’s a metallic taste when she chews on her nail beds, adding to the already scabbed hangnails that adorned her fingertips.

 Shawn spots her first and runs towards the Jeep. He throws open the passenger’s side door and wraps his arms around her, his elbow hitting the horn and scaring them both. He pulls back and her face feels heavy in his hand. A tired and empathetic, “baby,” is all he can say. 

 They drive home in silence, their fingers interlaced. Shawn peppers kisses on the back of her hand and up her arm but sparks no reaction. His heart sinks into his stomach. It’s so fucking painful to see her like this, so radically unlike herself. There’s no sarcastic quip, or banter or even fucking speck of his usual girl in there and that terrfies him. 

 “What do you want to do for dinner?” He asks, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

 She shrugs, “don’t know.” 

 “When’s the last time you ate?” 

 She shrugs again, “can’t remember.” 

 Shawn’s head rests on her shoulder and he lets out a sigh, “will you please come back with me?”

 She can feel the tears bubbling up again. She wants to say yes, she wants to say yes so fucking bad. But she knows Shawn and being with Shawn will not be the end all cure all. The thing about depression is, it doesn’t just go away with a change of scenery. It’ll go dormant for a while, sure; weeks, months, years even, if you’re lucky. And then all of a sudden it shows up again out of nowhere like a bad rash and it’s back to square one all over again. 

 “I don’t think that’ll help, Shawn,” she says as they pull into the parking garage at the condo. 

 He treads lightly, “I don’t want to start an argument with you baby, I just want you to feel your best again. At least if we’re together you aren’t alone.” 

 Her hand leaves his and she puts the Jeep into park, shuts off the ignition and unclicks her seatbelt. She thinks, hard. It’s the hardest she’s thought in a while and she forgets the feeling of trying to rationally mull something over. Her forehead tingles a little, and she weighs the options that Shawn has presented to her;

 One; stay home. Stay home at the condo, wake up Monday through Friday and work a job where she’s disrespected, underappreciated, but is making connections that will hopefully help her in the future of her career.

 Two; leave with Shawn. Go on tour with Shawn and live on a stinky tour bus with two other boys and wake up in a new city every day. But at least they were together.

 “I’ll do it.” 

 Shawn doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so big in his life.

 “Really?” 

 She nods.

 “Well let’s go get you packed then.” 

 ---

 An hour later the bedroom is strewn about with clothes and an open suitcase lying in the middle of their king sized bed. She folds, unfolds, and refolds everything. Nothing seems to fit and it’s making her teeth itch. Shawn just keeps digging through the closet, holding up a random item of clothing and saying ‘this’? When he does it for what seems like the thousandth time, she snaps.

 “Shawn just go in the fucking living room and I’ll finish packing, okay! You’re messing everything up, throwing my shit all around. Just let me finish the packing!” 

 He tries not to let it hurt him. It’s the most emotion he’s gotten out of her in weeks and he supposes it’s a step in the right direction. It’s better than the alternative. Shawn closes the gap between them in a few long strides and kisses her forehead.

 “That’s fine. Just let me know if you need anything and I’ll go book our flight for the morning, alright? I’ll order some dinner and we can take a shower together?” He kisses her temple, and then her chin, and then her jaw. 

 “Okay,” she starts, “and I’m sorry for yelling.” 

 Shawn kisses the top of her head, “it’s alright. I love you.” 

 When he leaves the room she sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the half packed suitcase beside her. She realizes her decision was rash, she’ll have to call her boss on Monday morning and tell her she’s not coming back...like ever, tell her friends that she'll be gone for basically the rest of the year, and her brain was still searching for a way to explain all of this to her mother. But the last part was for another day when her brain wasn’t feeling so scattered. 

 It’s remarkable how quickly she finishes packing when Shawn is out of the room. She finds him in the kitchen making two drinks and dancing around, singing under his breath as he grabs his ingredients from around the room. She has to hide her chuckle when he spots her, covering her mouth with her hand. Shawn reaches his hand out for her to come dance with him.

 The moment her hand is in his, he pulls her close, letting their bodies bump together. He cups her face and gives her a kiss and feels her relax against him, “I missed you,” he says, brushing his nose against hers for an eskimo kiss. 

 “Can we take that shower now?” She asks, kissing his chin. 

 Shawn laces their fingers together and leads them across the condo to the bathroom. She sits on the counter and watches him fuss with the knobs to find the perfect temperature. He wipes his wet hand on his jeans and turns back to her. They undress each other slowly. It’s not sexual in the slightest, but a caring gesture. She steps in first, letting the rainfall showerhead cascade over her. 

 It feels so impossibly good. It’s revitalizing and awakening. Her senses come to and she’s suddenly hyper aware of Shawn standing at the corner of the stall. He waves and she grabs his hand to pull him under the water with her. He turns her body facing away from him, pressing himself against her back and wrapping an arm around her waist. He peppers wet kisses down her shoulders and across her back. 

 “Can I wash your hair?” Shawn asks, his fingertips tracing across her belly.

 She answers as a chill runs through her, it had been so long since she felt his fingertips pressed into her, “yes.” 

 Shawn smirks and grabs the shampoo bottle from the shelf, squirting way too much into his hand and globbing it into her hair. His fingers move without much precision and there’s fits of giggles as he tries to style her heavy hair into various hairstyles. It feels good to laugh and she’s sure the feeling won’t last long, but she’s happy to be back in her cotton candy cloud for a little while.

 When they finish they just hold each other for a while under the warm stream of water. It was terrifying and exciting all at once and it was the first time in too long that she actually felt anything more than an exhausting, draining sadness. Even though they’d been friends for years, the relationship is still so new. 

 Will we grow tired of each other? She thinks. 

 And she doesn’t have that answer right now, and she won’t have that answer until much later.

[kunrendeotaku]

Chapter 6

“Okay!” Star bounces through the steam filled bathroom towards the shower, and the look on her face gives me a bad feeling. “Star, you remember what I told you about how to use the knobs, right?” I throw her a pair of clean towels, leaning against the bathroom counter while still in my own towels. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Hot and cold and righty tighty lefty loosey or whatever.” Star slams the stall shut and begins tossing her own clothes over the stall door with a lack of hesitation that surprises me. Its definitely not my first rodeo, so it doesn’t bother me knowing shes naked on the other side of that glass or seeing her underwear (petticoats? Chemise? Weird shorts? Medieval underwear is weird, especially with that almost modern blend, so i’m not sure what to call the little light dress and poofy, almost boxers I assume she was wearing under her dress) lying over her other clothes, but usually it kind of freaks exchange students out to have me in the room while they shower.

Regardless of male or female, I have to say. Although, the female response the first few times can be a bit more...violent. I distinctly remember the black eye I got from Jeane, a french girl who stayed with us a couple years back. Maybe being a princess, Star is used to changing and bathing in front of other people? I heard they used to get servants to wash and dress them back in the day, though Star seems independent enough that I doubt she had servants do that for her. If someone in her castle (does she have a castle, or just like a mansion?) actually is supposed to be the one in charge of cleaning this force of chaos, I really quite pity them. Anyway, long story short, I recognize that it's weird for me to do this, but I really have to make sure she’s safe! It's just a bit more weird that she seems not to care herself.

I watch her silhouette through the cloudy glass finally managing to turn on the water, and a sharp yelp echoes out from the shower. Clearly not quite the temperature she was expecting, though whether too cold or hot I couldn’t say. I decide to grab a nail file from its spot (outlined in a thin layer of chalk!) on my side of the counter and do my daily cuticle care. Hangnails could lead to terrible things, after all. The feeling of the abrasive surface dragging against my nails relaxes me, over the next few minutes. Really, this whole situation relaxes me. Star might be the...weirdest of our exchange students so far, but she still fills what always feels like a hole in the household when we don’t have one. I wonder if I would react like this if I had a brother, or sister? Sharing a bathroom, not feeling relaxed unless someone is watching my back? I don’t really know.

Out of the shower comes a steady stream of giggling mixed with yelps and weird curses as Star clearly can’t keep her adhd hands away from the knobs. She doesn’t seem capable of letting the water temperature be, getting bored within a few seconds no matter how comfortable she makes it. I’ve heard that if people are locked in a room with a box that does nothing but shock them, they’ll eventually start poking the box even though it hurts them, just out of sheer boredom. We hate that more than pain by quite a bit. I feel like I’m watching that process happening right now in fast forward, seeing Star freeze or burn herself every few moments. It actually worries me a bit that she might forget herself and blast a hole in our shower, but a quick glance around shows that she left her wand on her side of the sink. At least that won’t be a problem.

I nearly jump right out of my towel when I hear her scream “Marco!”, and opt to drop my nail file instead to grab and right my only current covering. “What, Star? Now my file is all dirty.” I begin grumbling, leaning over to snag the nail file from the ground. Just as I do so, I hear another, much louder clatter of something hitting tile-this time from inside of the shower itself. I blink, leaving the poor file where it lies and looking up at the shower. Luckily, based on her silhouette, the falling object wasn’t Star herself, but she seems squeezed into one of the corners. “Marco! I think I turned the knob too much and it broke! Now the shower is in like, super volcano heat mode. Can you fix it??”

In spite of herself, even Star seems embarrassed to ask a boy into her shower, her voice shaking with nerves for that last sentence. It's a first for me as well, I might act comfortable with all this, but familiarity is a thin blanket of defense against the realization that we’re both teenagers, alone in a soon to be very small space while wearing almost nothing. “I don’t think that's a good idea, Star! Just turn it off, grab your towel, and get out.” She messes around with the one remaining knob for a few moments, before it too pops off and falls. “That didn't work! And I haven’t gotten to play with the weird bubble syrup soap yet. Pleaaaase?” Surely she has shampoo in her dimension, or something like it. I just chalk this particular bit of oddness up to Star’s personality and sigh, a blush coloring my cheeks. I pinch the towel tighter, and glance down below my waist to give a warning look towards mister happy. Entering into a shower with a naked girl or not, I really don’t need any tenting going on around Star after only knowing her for a day.

“Fine, I’m coming in. Just...cover yourself up! I won’t look in your direction.” I wait until she gives the all clear, still huddled in her corner of the shower, before slowly pulling open the shower door. I’m immediately blasted with a wave of steam and small sprays of hot water-jesus, its has to be near boiling. Do we even have water that hot in our shower? I keep my eyes glued to the tile floor, and notice the pair of temperature knobs immediately. They’re sitting in the spray itself, which will make for a painful snatch and grab, but should be possible. The other thing I see is a pair of pale, surprisingly small feet. I wonder if she has her boots made larger than she needs to for some reason? Looking up further make it clear what her leggings usually hide, that her calves are just as toned as her arms. No delicate daisy, Star. I have to physically force myself not to look up any further than that, turning my attention back to the knobs.

Star, uncharacteristically, stays silent throughout this. Maybe she’s feeling just as awkward as I am. Or more so! I at least have a towel, after all. She just has….Don’t think about it Diaz! I grab both knobs with a slight his of pain at the hot water, my hands going as red as my face must still be. I’m afraid to look down at my groin, but at least it should be mostly hidden with me kneeling down and hunched over. The next issue immediately makes itself clear to me, after having acquired the knobs. In order to fix them, I’ll need to look up where they usually go-and Star will be directly in my line of sight. Half out of need and half out of teenage boy hormones, I raise my gaze.

A weird mixture of relief and disappointment engulfs me as I realize that Star is actually shockingly well covered. Her giant cloud of blonde hair has been moved from where it usually sits behind her, to in front of her shoulders. Everything from her knees up is completely hidden by the thick, wet blonde locks. Even her face is partially obscured, though when I look into the small part of her cheeks and eyes I can see, I realize she either was burned by that scalding water or is blushing even harder than I am-every bit of her face is the color of a tomato. She intently whispers to me “Marco, hurry up!” Which finally distracts me from my shameless ogling. I feel my cheeks attempt to experiment with new shades of red as my embarrassment at being caught staring at a ‘naked’ girl hits me, and I try to just quickly screw the temperature knobs back on.

Placing them at their perfect sharpie marked spot, I warn Star not to touch them again before finally backing out of the shower, closing the stall door, and standing back up. My heart slows down from beating a million times a minute, and I hear a similar release of tension in a sigh from the other side of the shower door. We both slowly find our previous positions, I finishing off my nails by the counter, and Star having distracted herself with the wonders of shampoo.

It's not long after that Star leaves the shower, wrapped in her own pair of towels. Her hair towel isn’t exactly equipped to deal with the sheer volume of her hair, but its doing its best. By mutual silent agreement, we don’t mention the shower escapade. Better news, now that I’m back in familiar territory, Marco Jr. has completely settled down-no damning tenting below the waist. “Now we can just head to our rooms and get dressed. I, apparently, have a lot of cleaning to do-and you need to have a chat with Mom ASAP. As soon as possible, is what that means Star.” I answer the question I can see forming on her face before she even gets the first word out, which has her giggling. “Okay! I’ll swing by your room later then!” She claims, before opening up the door and allowing two showers worth of steam to invade the house.

I pretty quickly follow her out, though I make the turn to my room instead of hers. Everything I own is back! In a giant, disorganized pile in the center of the room. I feel my eye twitch at the sight, slam my door behind me, and get to work on the first priority: Finding my Jam-Jams.

[hotoffthepressfics]

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

Part II

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,250

Summary: CiCi Continues to help you get set up for the night. The two of you seek a place to stay from a roguish gentleman. ;)

Warnings: Angst

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Used” - Wyvern Lingo

“Strip Me” - Gavin Mikhail

A/N: There’s only a tiny bit of Bucky in this chapter, but he’s gonna be making lots of appearances after this so buckle in! Enjoy!

Once you had left the small thrift store CiCi took you three blocks over to a little mom and pop place that was still open. Once you were seated in a booth towards the back of the diner and CiCi had ordered for you both the two of you sat in mutual silence. The plump, middle - aged woman waiting on you smiles sweetly as she places your drinks on the table. You watch her go, then reach for the steaming mug, and bring it to your lips. You sip your tea slowly, fingers laced around the ceramic mug allowing the heat to seep through your skin.

You glance up to notice CiCi is once again studying you for about the third time tonight. She leans forward setting her elbows on the Formica tabletop. Fingers steepled she rests her chin against them. You lean farther into the booth fidgeting uncomfortably under the new scrutiny. You bow your head and stare into the dark amber liquid in your mug. CiCi inhales a long breath bringing her hands away from her face.

"Alright baby, now I could sit here all night makin' up all sorts of stories for you, but I'd much rather know the truth. Now tell me, what's your story?"

Your cheeks heat and you try to sink even farther into the booth, but it doesn't give. Your eyes flick back to CiCi's face. She looks at you expectantly. You breathe in slowly, trying to stall as long as you can.

"T - " your voice is croaky. The air exerted to speak itches your throat and you cough. You take a long draw from your mug. Clearing your throat, you attempt again.

"T – there's... nothing to tell..." You give a noncommittal shrug of your shoulders. You hope the gesture is enough to hide the dread that was surging back through your veins. You press your hands harder against the smooth sides of the mug to keep them from shaking.

CiCi had given you nothing but patience and kindness since you had met. However, that didn't mean you were ready to lay bare all your personal details to her. Not yet. It had been nice to forget for a moment. To pretend that your life was just starting from the moment you stepped off that bus. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, afraid to meet CiCi's eyes again. In your experience refusing to respond could get you very hurt.

CiCi snorts, "Well now that is just a bold –faced lie. Honey, no one gets this twitchy and nervous from nothin’... but," she leans back, and splays her hands out in surrender. "I know we just met. You don't wanna tell me what's what that's your business."

You can feel the guilt weaving around your heart; she has been so nice.

The less anyone knows about me, the safer I will be. He can't find me if I don't exist anywhere.

"Can I at least get your name?” CiCi played with the handle on her own mug, seeming to appear uninterested.

You weigh your options for a moment. You could lie. Come up with a false name. The idea made you unhappy. Out of everything that had been stripped away from you, your name was the only thing you had left that was yours. It was your identity. The last link to who you used to be.

"Y/N. Just Y/N." You barely speak above a whisper, still uncertain if you should reveal this small bit of truth about yourself.

The widest smile breaks out across CiCi's face and you feel the guilt subside. Your waitress comes to your table then, the plates of food balanced in both of her hands.

"There you are, is there anything else I can get you ladies?" Her kind eyes dart between you and CiCi.

"We’re mighty fine now hun, thank you." CiCi dismisses the waitress. She gives you both one last smile as she walks away.

"Okay Miss Y/N. Let's dig in to our meal here and start to fatten you up. It hurts me just looking at you. Lord knows if a good, stiff wind blew down the street I'd have to hold onto your or else you'd blow away." CiCi gave you another toothy grin and winked. You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

"After we finish here let's get you set up in a place to stay." You quickly swallow the bite you were working on chewing.

"I-I- I don't have much, just a - "

CiCi raised her hand up to silence you. "Hush, don't you worry. I know someone who's got some room to spare for the time being."

You stare at her, watching as she brings the slice of grilled cheese to her mouth. She realizes you are watching her and drops the food back onto the plate. She grabs her napkin from her lap.

"What? Did I smear some lipstick on my face or something?" She pulls the chrome napkin dispenser towards her to inspect her face.

"Why?" You swallow thickly, inhaling slowly to prevent the sobs that were bubbling to the surface. "Why are you being so nice to me? You don't even know me."

She straightens and pushes the dispenser back into place, "Lord almighty, she can say more than five syllables!"

You continue to stare waiting for an answer. CiCi chuckles.

"Why? I don't know." She shrugs "I guess because I recognized the look in your eyes in that alley. I've felt it in my own before. I didn't have any help from no one then, but I fought my way back from it. I guess I just wanted to offer you the help I wished I had had back then." She levels her gaze to you.

"I don't know your story. I don't need to know it. You ain't never gonna have to tell me if you don't want to. But life is messed up enough as it is. Turning a blind eye to another's hurts makes ya mean, and honey, I am too fabulous to be mean." CiCi preens and fluffs her hair.

You let out an involuntary laugh that breaks the dam of your control. Tears pour down your cheeks. Cici's face softens and she reaches an outstretched hand to you. You tentatively place your hand in hers and she firmly wraps her fingers around it. You pull a napkin from the dispenser and wipe at your nose.

"Hey," she shakes your hand gently. You glance to her and take in the somber expression on her face.

"This moment is only temporary. We are gonna get you a place to stay and then we are gonna get you back on your feet. Okay?" You nod and draw in a ragged breath. CiCi releases your hand with one last squeeze.

"Good, now eat up.”

•••

A thirty-minute ride on the C train across town and about a mile walk from the station exit brought the two of you in front of a brownstone apartment building. It looks sturdy and well built, albeit a little aged. You keep close to Cici as she climbs the steps. She turns to the list of residents by the call buttons. When she came to one with the name “Barnes” she repeatedly punches in the button. A series of short, obnoxious buzzes burst from the intercom. A minute passes before a longer buzz and click sound from the entry. CiCi pulls open the door and holds it for you. You scurry in.

Inside you can see rows of mailboxes followed by a small hallway ending at an elevator. You wait as CiCi walks back towards it and presses the button to call it down. You take the elevator to the fifth level. CiCi takes you down the hall of doorways stopping when she reaches the third on the right. She rhythmically wraps against the wood. A crash sounds on the other side followed by a slew of expletives.

You cringe and step closer to CiCi. A lock scrapes against its metal holding and the door is yanked open. A tall man with dark brown, saggy hair and scruff to match leans on the door frame and squints out at the pair of you. It takes a moment for him to register who he's seeing.

"Jesus, Cees! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" The man swipes his hand across his face.

CiCi stands with arms akimbo, one eyebrow cocked in derision.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby. Were you sleeping? I just assumed you’d be busy with company tonight.”

The man chuckles and adjusts his position so his back is against the frame.

“Naw, no dames breaking down this door tonight but you sugar.”

As he turns out towards the hall you notice the glint of metal come from his left arm. You pull back from CiCi to take closer look. You thought you were imagining it, but no. This man’s entire left arm was made from metal. You duck back, afraid to be caught gawking.

“Oh Bucky, you charmer. We both know I’m too woman for you and my man keeps me plenty happy.”

The man, Bucky, places his right hand over his heart as though he's been wounded. "Ouch, not pulling any punches tonight are we CiCi?"

By now Bucky notices you timidly standing behind CiCi. He gives you a wicked grin.

"How about your friend then? She looks like she could use some fun and I'm always game to make new friends."

You glare at him. CiCi's tenacity was apparently enough to make you bold, but not enough to help you stand your ground. You shuffle closer to her. He laughs.

"Down you dog. We didn't come here so you could practice your wooing skills. We need an apartment. Your apartment." CiCi explains.

Bucky blinks. "I thought you said you weren't here for me to practice "wooing". I've only the one bed in here, but I am very good at sharing."

CiCi smacks his metal shoulder. Bucky feigns injury, rubbing the spot she hit.

"Cut that out! You know exactly which apartment I'm talkin' about!"

"Ah," Bucky blows out a breath, settling his hands on his hips. "See that's gonna be a no Cees. Gotta keep that open for when... you know, B – Day hits."

You furrow your brows in confusion. B – Day? What was that supposed to be? You move slightly out from behind CiCi to look at her face. She rolls her eyes. Reaching back, she pulls you out from behind to stand between her and Bucky. You squeak and stumble a bit. CiCi places her hands on your shoulders.

"See this sweet young thing here? She's in need of a place to stay. Seeing as you're not entertaining for the time being means that... B – Day has been avoided for another day," her emphasis on the phrase drips with sarcasm.

Bucky glances down at you, fully taking you in for the first time. You droop into CiCi's hands, all the bravado you had gained evaporating under his inspection. You focus on the space between his feet and yours, willing your legs to stay put and not flee. The silence seems to stretch forever. Finally, Bucky sighs.

"Hang on."

You glance up slightly to see he has left the doorway. A moment later he comes back with a set of keys.

"Here. Apartment 406. You gotta be a little rough with it, the handle likes to stick a bit." You see his hand stretch out to you, key dangling from his fingers. You take the keys from him, briefly meeting his eyes for a moment. He winks and quirks the left side of his mouth. You flush and quickly drop your gaze.

Unable to stand the attention any longer you feint to your left and slip out from CiCi’s grasp. A couple more steps down the hall back towards the elevator you stop and prop yourself up against the wall to wait for CiCi. You hear Bucky whistle.

“I knew my flirting skills were subpar, but am I really that bad?”

CiCi reaches over and pats Bucky’s cheek.

“She’s just a little skittish, that’s all. Don’t take it too personally. Thank you for your help baby. Now go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

Bucky chuckles. “Goodnight Cees,” he leans farther out of his doorway to call out, “goodnight doll!”

You flinch. CiCi shakes her head and walks over to you as you hear the sound of Bucky’s door click back into place.

“C’mon little miss wallflower,” CiCi croons as she slips her arm around you. “Let’s get you set up for the night. I am beat!”

•••

A trip down to the third floor to CiCi’s apartment, who apparently lived in this building as well, and back up to the fourth brought you in front of the door to 406. Bucky hadn’t been kidding when he said you needed to be rough with the handle. It took you and CiCi twisting and butting up against the door to get the thing to pop open. As soon as it gave in you struggle to keep yourself from sprawling out across the apartment floor. CiCi straightens and wipes her brow.

“I’m gonna have a talk with Bucky about that door. Can’t have you throw in’ out your shoulder every time you wanna get in!” She chortles to herself as she leans back out the door and grabs the items she brought up with you.

“He’s the super for the apartment. He’s pretty good about the upkeep ‘round here. Though it seems he’s kind of let this one go…” CiCi runs her hand along the door jam. She shakes her head.

“I suppose it’s in preparation for B – Day.” She waggles her eyebrows at you. You stand in the middle of the apartments living area. The space is sparse. A battered recliner sits in a corner closest to the window looking out onto the street below. You see the fire escape ladder cross the window frame. Turning slowly on your heel you observe an ajar door to the left of the window and chair. That must be the bedroom. Another turn and you see the kitchen. Once again pretty bare but for the appliances you assume come with the apartment.

Completing your inspection of the place you turn back to CiCi and incline your head to the side. You give her a puzzled look.

“What… is “B – Day”?” CiCi gives a nod as though she knew this question was coming.

“It stands for Bitch – Day. Bucky is a good soul, but he has very poor taste in women and even poorer decision – making skills. I won’t get into his business but there has been many a time he’s brought a crazy bitch home only to find its much harder to get them to leave. So, he keeps this apartment below his to sneak away until they’ve decide it’s not worth sticking around.” She waves her hand around to take in the whole space.

You tense a little when she mentions his apartment is right above what would now be yours for the time being. You glance back at the window and out to the fire escape. The one that connected the upper level to yours.

CiCi perceives your discomfort as though she’s reading your thoughts. “Don’t you worry none sweetheart. He may seem like a scoundrel, but he’s a good one. He won’t try to come here now that you’re here.”

That seemed true enough. Bucky appeared to be a good man.

I had thought the same of Colton, and look how that had turned out…

You try to relax your shoulders. Silently, you walk towards the bedroom door and push it open with your hip. Feeling blindly against the wall you find the light switch and flip it on. Inside this room a full bed was pushed against the far wall to the corner. This allowed it to be hidden from the window. Your tension lessens more. At least you’d be able to see all the entry points from the safety of the corner.

Breezing by you CiCi began laying out the blanket and pillow she’d taken from her apartment and set up the bed. You place your bag of newly purchased clothing next to it and proceed to help smooth out the bedding. Once it was complete CiCi stands back and admires her handiwork.

“Alright! Well I think that will set you up for the night Y/N. Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you set up with groceries and hunt you down a job. You gonna be alright up here alone hun?” She swivels to you. You nod tiredly.

“Good. Get some sleep baby. It’ll be a bright new day for you.” Cici softly rubs your cheek before turning to go out the door.

“Thank you, CiCi.”

“You’re welcome, hun.” And with that she heads out.

You face back towards the bed taking in the meager belongings you’d accumulated that night. Some bought; even more borrowed. You feel the weight of it all pull at your shoulders. It had been a long, emotional day.

But you’re free. You’re alone and safe. Free.

You sift through the other items CiCi had left behind finding a camisole and light, silky night shorts. You assume she meant for you to sleep in these, but they felt too much like what you’d been forced to wear day and night before. Even if they were a little less… provocative.

He isn’t here. He didn’t choose these.

Exasperated with yourself you strip out of the night’s outfit and pull on your sleep attire. After you finish you go into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Switching on the lights you push yours limits farther and peer into the mirror. You tug the hair tie of your braid out and begin to hand comb through your hair, wincing as it strains the hair on the sore spot of your scalp. That guy earlier tonight had yanked a lot harder than you supposed.

You mentally tally all the essentials you’ll need to purchase, like a tooth and hairbrush, while avoiding looking at the bruises peaking through the camisole. Some were almost healed. Others rather fresh from only being dealt a few days before.

You push aside the memories threatening to drag you under. You didn’t want to relive those moments. No here where a new life was so close to beginning. You turn abruptly and cut the lights off. You walk into the center of the bedroom. The bright lights above you and the thin clothing cause you to feel exposed and raw. You inhale through your nose and blow it out of your mouth fighting the hysteria, but you’re too exhausted. You kneel and sift through your clothes once more pulling out the gray sweater you got. Hugging it close, you pull it over your head. The heavy material seems to pull you back to your senses. Steadying you.

Taking a walkthrough of the apartment once more you double and triple check the locks to the windows and door, making certain it’s all secure.

Going back into the bedroom you shut the door and bolt the handle lock. Deciding to leave the light on you crawl onto the bed, curling into the blankets provided by CiCi. You wiggle your way into the corner of the bed, away from the window and facing the door, and fall slowly into a fitful rest.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @littlemarvelfics @averyrogers83 @chuuulip @thatfanficstuff

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh

[microsoftedgy69]

Day 3

// sorry this is like 1.7k and ends with a tearjerker. but yay, it’s over! happy new year everyone

Dirk really does look ridiculous in your winter gear. It’s too big on him -- not dramatically, but just enough to be noticeable, especially the dark red padded jacket. He’s quiet, but so are you, watching the sun go down behind the mountains. It’s painting the snow a soft orange, making it look warmer than it actually is. There are no tracks here, no skiers, just you and him and the trees.

You were hesitant about it, bringing him here. It’s pretty, and new to him, and you didn’t want to rub it in. You didn’t want to rub in what you have more than your general living situation already did on its own. Dirk has been missing out on some really good stuff, and he will go back to missing out on it soon, and you didn’t want to make it even harder on him.

But you asked, carefully, if he wanted to go out with you, and he said yes. It’s been quiet, between you, ever since yesterday. A good kind of quiet, where there is a mutual sort of understanding between you, knowing that neither of you wants conflict. You’ve talked about some important things in the past days, and you’re glad it’s out, but the prospect of him disappearing soon has you mulling things over again. You don’t feel quite as tired as you have been -- all of this is still incredibly exhausting, but now that it’s ending soon and you actually have an outlook towards a nice, calm, and Dirk-less New Year’s eve, you at least feel like you’re functioning again.

“The air out here is real nice,” Dirk says. You nod.

“I know.”

“What do you mean you know?” Dirk’s scoff sounds amused, and that’s a vast improvement. “You don’t breathe.”

“I can still sense what the air is like, you shithead,” you say, perfectly calm. Yeah. This is working out nice.

“Fine,” Dirk says.

You look up at the orange sky and say, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I used to apologize a lot, for everything,” you tell the sky. “I spent the past year trying to work through that. Only apologize for things that are actually my fault, only feel bad for things I actually had control over. So I’m not sorry for defending myself when my life was on the line. I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Dirk lowers his head, then raises it again, a slow nod, a Go on.

“But I do feel sorry for what went down,” you say. “The whole of it. I’m sorry you died. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I already told you that, but I mean it. It was an accident, and I’m sorry it happened. If I could have just knocked you out, I would have done that. If I could have stopped Crocker’s attack in time, I would have done that. But I couldn’t, and I’m sorry for that.”

“You did what you had t--” Dirk starts saying, and it puts a rush of something good through you, but you don’t let him finish.

You say, “I’m not done. I’m sorry you died. We were kids, and you went way too early. I’m sorry you never got to leave the stupid old apartment, not in the way you wanted, and I’m sorry you never got to meet Dave and Rose. I’m sorry dream bubbles suck. None of this is my fault, but I need you to know that I’m still sorry. In the-- in the way that people say they’re sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for everything that was taken from you, because you didn’t deserve that. You should have had it so much better, and I’m sorry that I did, and you didn’t.”

The air is cool on your skin. You gave Dirk your snow pants, so your jeans are cold and soaking now, but it’s fine. It’s good. You can feel your own body, and you need that.

Dirk stays quiet for several seconds, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, like you did just now. You don’t. Your steps crunch in the snow, and you listen to Dirk breathe in and out deeply.

“You were right,” he says. You have half a mind to throw him a comically shocked look, but maybe it’s not the time for theatrics. “About what you said, the day before yesterday, in your living room. I would have done the same in your situation, and we know, because you’re me. You were right about that. I can’t…” When you look at him, he squints his eyes against the sun, face twisting like he has to force the words out of himself. You relate. It’s alright. “I can’t hold this against you. I tried to. I wanted to. Fuck, Alan, I fucking died, and I just want someone to blame. But it’s not you.”

He ducks his head down, to study the snow. You look away again, and watch a bird flutter out of a tree nearby.

“All we ever did in that apartment,” Dirk says, “was try to survive. You did that. I would’ve done the same thing. It’s okay.”

You have no lungs, so you don’t breathe, but you feel like exhaling, so you pull some air in through your nose and push it back out through your mouth. “Air’s good,” you say quietly. Dirk snorts.

He says, “I’m gonna go ahead and blame Fishsticks instead, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “You can blame her. Blame her real hard. Knock yourself out, chief.”

“Sucks that Dave just gave up,” Dirk says. His voice is mostly level, but you’ve been him long enough to detect the slight waver. “I mean I get being depressed out of your mind, but man, giving her hell is kinda important, isn’t it? And now nobody’s doing that anymore. She’s just out there.”

You can feel him look at you, and you understand what he’s saying immediately. You don’t return the gaze. You look at the sky and think about how worried some people in your life got when you only did the bare minimum to help someone in another timeline piss off their Condesce. Then you think about how you went and did it anyway, and how right it felt.

“Yeah,” you say, dragging out the syllable. “Guess somebody should do somethin’ about that.”

“RoLal would probably be on board,” Dirk says. You smile, and say nothing. Maybe he talked to her about it, but you still don’t exactly want to know. It’s been a tough pill to swallow, the way he went and reconnected with his friends, the way the rapbots jammed with him. You don’t want to imagine the sort of conversation he and Roxy had, when everytime you and her talk it still feels sad and stiff from beginning to end. You don’t want to put yourself through this right now. You already know it’ll haunt you enough in the coming days.

Next to you, Dirk pulls his phone out of his pocket (ghost phone, you think) and checks the display before pushing it back in.

“‘s almost time,” he says.

You hum. In a way, you’re glad that he’s just going to stop existing with no warning. That means you won’t do any awkward goodbye hugs and waving and walking away. You’re bad at saying goodbye to people. You’ve learned that about yourself.

Still stomping through the snow, you pass the tree you saw the bird fly out of earlier. You reach into an inside pocket of your jacket, and pull out a pair of Kamina shades. Just last month, you threw a pair of those into the ocean for him, saying that they’ll find him. This is a little less poetic, but you guess it still works.

“Here,” you say, and hold them out to him. “I have no idea if this is gonna work and they’ll go back into the afterlife with you, but I figured it’d be worth a shot.”

He looks at you, then at them, before taking them into his hands and immediately shoving them onto his face, like he was somehow starving for them. You do him the favor of not laughing at him, but you do smile a little when he makes a satisfied noise.

“They’re not computerized,” you say. “But you know how to do that yourself if you ever wanna.”

“Yeah,” Dirk says. He turns his head, and you look back at him this time. It’s easier, with the shades, even if a bit trippy, for you, who used to be them. Then again, you used to be him, too. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” you say.

You walk in silence for a few more steps. Then, with a strange pop, the air to your left fills up the hole Dirk leaves when he disappears. You continue walking.

You return to your boat twenty minutes later. You peel yourself out of your cold wet jeans, and hang them up to dry. You put on a new pair, and stand in front of your closet. You say, out loud, “Motherfucker stole my goddamn snow gear.”

It’s funny, so you try to laugh. You don’t. You go into the living room, and sit down on the floor. Turing pads out of the bedroom and bumps his head into your knee, and you reach out to pet him, but your chest makes a loud noise like a CD drive trying to play a BluRay, and he flinches back.

You drop your hand on your lap, and you close your eyes. The place is dead silent. One more time, the absence of Dirk in your household leaves a gap so glaring it seems almost palpable.

Your chest makes that noise again, and this time, it hurts. You open Discord, and message Alma. You text him, “He’s gone,” and then you add, “Please.”

You put your head in your hands, and you wait for Alma and Palooka to get here. Alma promised hugs. You feel small, and alone, and five years old. And you need them.

[queerauds-blog]

Thank You. - Plat!Moxiety

≫ tw; uncensored cussing, self-deprecation, mention of chest pains and difficulty in breathing !!

≫ an; this was posted on my wattpad (@saltylouie) and Thomas Sanders Fans Amino (TSFA - louie) !! i don’t use this tumblr acc as much, so, do not be mistaken! ^^ i decided to post it here, because i really want this acc back up and runnin’. i also apologize for the confusing use of capitalization, i had a writing block when i wrote this, too.

≫ Summary:       Virgil was out with some friends, but got bored. he went onto a social media platform where he had met most of his online friends. he started to feel.. nervous, and couldn't understand why. he went to Morality, knowing he was someone who could help him.

   usually, he doesn't go out of his own house. at all. he stays at home even if he knows he is able to go outside and do so much more fun activities rather than lounge at home, nose stuck on his screen; he'd been introduced to the magic of the internet a while back, joining social networks and meeting people.

  knowing they were only strangers online, and they didn't know him, he was still frankly quite shy about meeting people who are merely just strangers behind a screen. you'd expect for him to be anxious and very nervous about talking- but, they don't know who he is. they don't know who Virgil is. he convinced himself that there isn't a lot to worry about, just as long as the people they met strayed away from gaining personal information, he guesses he can consider them mutuals.

  he sat with a few people around a small table, a few friends of the names' Remy, Deceit, and Emile. all three were occupied doing their own thing, having their own phones close to their noses. Remy was too busy playing games and calling someone on the phone as he sat with Virgil's earphones (for he had forgotten his), Deceit was flirting with a certain someone who Virgil was very close with, while Emile was simply looking through his phone, most likely looking through Pokémon Go out of boredom. Virgil doesn't hate company, in fact, Deceit is the person he hangs out with most, and of other gatherings, Remy's with them, and occasionally Emile.

  Virgil noticed how everyone was doing their own thing, and he couldn't help but do the same and go on a social media platform. he went immediately to the media's feed, looking through loads more of art, writing, edits, other forms of art. he didn't realize how long he spaced out for as he stared at his phone, his own anxious thoughts telling him off. he felt his breathing quicken, chest tighten a bit too much, he hunched over slightly, praying it was unnoticed. he glanced at one hand, watching it shake a bit more than usual; it was a bad habit he does, looking at his shaky hands just make him feel even more anxious.

  he quickly swiped a few times on his screen, his thumb seeming to have a mind of its own, but eventually stop. currently on his screen, the chats category was opened, displaying the many- well, few chats he had. some were private messages, and one group chat. he tapped a group chat that was titled Crofters Cookies for some reason... he didn't mind, he actually quite liked it. there were five members in the chat, including Virgil. of course, it was the internet, you can't just reveal your names. so, Virgil went by the user ✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘. they called him Anx, even if Virgil would've preferred to be called Anxiety when he can be labeled as the living embodiment of Anxiety.

   like any group of friends, each friend had a label- not the bad kind, but that it was used to reference to someone as a shortcut. one user went by 🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶; just by looking at the user, one can perhaps tell this user really.. really loves animals, especially puppies. he was a male who went by Morality as his nickname— for his friend label- he went by Dad, because we was pretty much a father figure to his sons (let's not dwell on the topic that no one actually calls him dad).

   another user went by L o g i c 🎓, and also just by his user, he went by Logic, immediately knowing the outcomes of other peoples' nicknames for him. he was called nerd a lot, that was definitely a common nickname, but, someone else in the group chat was very, and i mean very creative when it comes to nicknames for Logic.

   this user went by ✨Ɛŋƈɧąŋɬąɖơཞ✨, you'd think he was some charming, dashing, lovable prince who can swoon any man or woman within a matter of milliseconds; he was. a kind, thoughtful prince, and quite a warrior, although, he was still a bit of a, nuisance, to how Logic phrases it. this.. Princey dude was a bit, no, that's a lie, he was an egoist and he was self-centered. he also loved Disney, and he was pretty indecisive. at least once every week, he'd change his icon about 3-7 times.

  the last user was someone who went by Foster Dawg who was not very well active in the chat, he'd pop in from time to time, but the rest were very active. although an inactive member of the friend chat, it was like all four of them knew what was best for them. whenever he was dealing with emotions, Morality would step in. if he needed new ideas, prompts and plots, Princey would provide those. if he needed anything like an objective opinion, or something from an logical perspective, or have a question, or perhaps begin a debate, he'd go to Logic. Foster Dawg went to Anx when it came to certain doubts, insecurities, fears, and his own fairly heightened anxiety. all four of them were always of great help, to one another. it was strangely remarkable on how all four and each of their personalities form Foster Dawg all together, if ever possible. it's not like the four would be parts of Foster Dawg's personality; impossible, there are similarities, but, a person can't be a one's living embodiment of a personality trait. would it be a miracle? a coincidence? a curse?

   that isn't the main focus right now. Virgil wasn't feeling very.. pleasant at the moment. he felt like throwing up everything he had just eaten, feeling quite uneasy. he typed a couple of words, stating how his social anxiety wasn't helping, but, out of nervousness, deleted his response before he could send it. yes, Virgil had a habit of doing that, but he would know to what the reason is. this time, he knew something was wrong, but he couldn't understand as to why he is feeling this way. the overwhelming thought that these, annoying emotions, were- or are the reason to his unanswered questions and complicated thoughts. moreover, Virgil isn't used to expressing himself, or venting in all general. he sighed quietly in defeat, looking over that list of members in the chat, tapping on a familiar dog icon. after a few more shaky taps, he'd finally entered his private message chat with Morality. he didn't even bother with scrolling up in their conversation, he really needed someone to talk to, unless he wanted to drive himself up a wall.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: my chest feels heavy.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: it's bothering me.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: it

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: itbhurts

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: *it hurts

    Virgil was still shaking as he typed his messages, his quick breathing becoming louder. he didn't want it to be heard, so he tried to take a deep breath in. it worked.. for a bit, until he saw the small text pop up at the bottom left corner of his screen, just above his keyboard.

       🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶 is typing...

      the small text disappeared, which didn't help Virgil at all. he refreshed the chat, almost sighing in relief once he saw the small bubble pop up again.

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: Why? Is something wrong, Kiddo? Are you ok??

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: i.. i don't know.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: i just feel really weak, thinking about it makes me light-headed.

      it really was weird for Virgil to express how he was currently feeling, especially with the voice in the back of his head, telling him he didn't deserve to be helped. he was always looking after the rest, which meant if he can balance out their problems with his, he can go just fine with his own. he thought wrong. he waited as he watched the small text bubble, showing that Morality was typing; he averted his gaze from his phone, looking anywhere else. his eyes landed on the three almost-forgotten-friends with him, chatting with each other every now and then. Deceit and Remy were both complaining that they were hungry again, the anxious companion couldn't help but laugh at their nonsense. they had just eaten, now, they want desert; not that there's a problem with that, it's just that Virgil wasn't particularly hungry, even if he ate quite little for dinner with the mentioned people with him. Emile stood up from his seat, quietly groaning as he excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Virgil to hold his phone for a while. he took Emile's phone and placed it in front of him-

     the sound of glass falling scared the living hell out of him, resulting him to dropping Emile's phone on the table; thankfully, it wasn't too high off the table's surface, but it added to the sudden noise, and stating the obvious, it didn't help. apparently, Remy was moving something and it tipped an empty glass over, making it fall. Deceit almost jumped from the sound, his first instinct being to pick up the glass and stand it right up again. he then glanced at Virgil and Remy, before stifling a laugh as his shoulders shook slightly. Remy saw this, and smirked, Virgil couldn't tell if he was embarrassed, but he was laughing, so he chuckled nervously. he took deep breathes,

In. one.. two.. three.. four..

Hold. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

Out. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

  Virgil was silently thanking himself that he only had to do that breathing exercise only a few times; usually, he'd have to them for at least 15 minutes, especially that he was in public. knowing he isn't as overwhelmed as he thought, it was a clear sign to him that..

        maybe he was just a weak person, whose problems weren't that big of an issue like he thought.  

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: Aw.. Kiddo..

       out of pure fear, Virgil had typed and sent without thinking twice. fuck.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: im sorry im bothering you with whatever the hell is happening to me

     shit. shit, why did i send that? fuck, oh no, what is he going to think? i'm such an idiot. i know this is Morality- but—

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: No, wait- Kiddo!! calm down. You aren't bothering me,

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: Why would you even think that you're bothering me??

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: because i don't like to vent. i don't like expressing myself, despite my loud, sarcastic, self. i always aim to protect and prioritize others over myself.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: it's like.. whenever people come to me, looking for advice, their issues take a toll on me; why i'm reluctant to vent myself, thinking i'm being a burden to the person i'm talking to.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: i also dont want people to worry about me, because i don't have feel the need to be helped, i don't deserve it.

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: plus.. my problems are literally nothing, yet i'm whining and complaining about them.

      🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶 is typing...

       see, you don't even know how to reply. see how much of a burden i am? all i do is weigh others, you down. god, why did i think going to you was my first thought? i could've gone to Logic, but, no, i'm bothering someone i care most abo-

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: C'mon, Kiddo! Don't think like that!

          too late, Morality-

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: You aren't bothering me at all! Heck, if I have problems, I go to you or Logic! You both always seem to have the right words to say, and I'm really grateful!!

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: gasp

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: morality typed heck

      yeah, joking around wasn't necessary at the moment, but, Virgil couldn't help it. he wasn't sure why he did that: either to avoid the topic, or he just unknowingly chimed in.

     "Virge, want anything? Dee and i are getting desert." Remy spoke, his eyes meeting Virgil's gaze after noticing he's been staring at his phone for what he assumed was ten minutes or more. Deceit stood up from his seat, about the same time Emile walked back over, and taking his seat. "Picani, do you want anything?" Asked Deceit, adjusting his outfit and earning an unsure shrug from the other. "well, i'm getting the Golden Oreo Ice cream- whatever that is, it looks good."

     "hey, i'll get everything!" exclaimed Remy, even if he didn't have the menu in hand. "no-?" chuckled Virgil, "well, let's get everything, for all of us to eat, hm?" Remy earned a joking glare from Virgil, "no!" he snickered as Remy shrugged. "whatever floats your boat- i'm hungry! i will get everything!" he exclaimed, standing up with Deceit to go over to the counter and order. Emile giggled and playfully rolled his eyes, "you sure you don't want anything, Virge? don't think i noticed you ate quite little earlier," said Picani, tilting his head slightly at Virgil, who turned his head away to avoid the other's gaze. "i.. don't know, what's on the menu?"

      Emile stood up and walked over to a table, where an unused menu laid. he took it and walked back over to Virgil, sitting himself down still next to the anxious companion. "here; we can share, if you want? the desert Dee mentioned earlier did sound appealing," he said as he opened the small booklet up, flipping through the pages to reach for the Deserts section. he pointed at the desert Deceit mentioned earlier, something with a Golden Oreo with ice cream? that looked good, but, who was going to pay?

      "Emile, who'll pay?"

                               "oh, i think Remy will."

      Virgil frowned, "only him? if that's true, then i'm not getting anything." it seemed.. you know.. uh.. he couldn't think of the word, but, it just didn't feel right. if Remy doesn't want to get his money, then he isn't getting anything. "Virgil, it will be fine, besides, it was Remy who insisted. you know he visits this place a lot, he's practically known here," which wasn't a lie; Remy did visit this place to eat, or just hang around to talk to the staff. it's a fond little thing he did, pretty cute, too! Virgil then sighed, giving in to the offer. "alright, alright. we'll share, right?" Emile smiled and mused a giggle from Virgil's reply. "yes, of course! i'll go and tell them of our order, ok?"

      before the anxious friend could reply, he had already gotten up and skipped his way towards the pair by the counter. he grinned softly, glancing back to his phone. he had missed three messages from Morality.

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: At least I don't type such foul language, Anxiety.

                oh shit. he used the entire name, not the nickname. oh no, he's in Dad™ mode-

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: Don't think you're less than what you think and say to be, you know very well it isn't true. Don't let your negative thinking ever convince you, or drag you into its void. Like I said earlier, you aren't bothering me. I come to you whenever I'm not in the bestest mood, you always manage to cheer me up, even if you're that dark and strange! Know that you're heard, and you can come to me if you ever have any problems!

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: I worry about you, Anxiety, which means I care; yes, this is the internet and we're all strangers, but, our group is like a family! I would give up anything to meet you all! Also, you should let people help you. it may be difficult at first, but, really, it'll help you. A lot.

       a corner of Virgil's mouth was tugged, forming a small grin on his face. not many people the ones Virgil's has come to were able to help him, but, he knew he cared. Morality, however — had the right words, and showed that he really did care and did his best in helping. Virgil appreciated Morality's efforts a lot, thankful he had met someone with a kind heart like his. maybe the thought of meeting Morality wasn't so bad...

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: i

✘ ṃʏ ċһєṃıċѧʟ ԁıṡѧṡṭєя ✘: thank you, morality i really appreciate it, like a lot

        🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶 Is typing....

🐶 ᎵᏌᎵᎵIᏋᎦ 🐶: Call me Patton !

[damiennazario]

The Girl With the Broken Smile

Pairing: Maxwell x MC

Summary: In which Maxwell’s rooftop confession comes a lot later - at Liam and Madeleine’s wedding.

Genre/Warning: Fluff, PG

Words: 4,754

Notes: boi ... i never expected to slide my booty over to maxwell. but y’alls prayers have been answered and now this ass belongs to him. i dont know a liam and neither does the mc in this fic. enjoy this overly-fluffy piece of garbage!

You’re watching King Liam and Queen Madeleine's first dance as a married couple.

The two look as stiff and awkward as ever, despite their obvious skill in the Cordonian waltz as high-ranking nobles. Liam is standing a quite notable distance away from his so-called bride, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, and her face is pasted with a flimsy smile. Nevertheless, the King Father, the Queen Mother, and all the other nobles that are present look on at the king and his wife as they glide across the floor - if you could even call it gliding, Liam looks as if he’s dragging Madeleine across - with thoughtful reverence.

Of course, all of the other nobles except for the members of House Beaumont, Drake, Olivia, and Hana.

You should be more hurt to see this farcical display than you are at present. But the truth is, you just feel numb, the same way you've been feeling ever since the events of the Coronation; and now even more so, given that Tariq has disappeared without a trace, and took along with him your chances of gaining your rightful place alongside Liam, reigning as Cordonia's true queen.

You told Liam that things would be over between you two once he married Madeleine, because no matter how much you loved him, you couldn't stand any more lies or sneaking around, especially considering that it would only get harder to be together once they got married. He and Madeleine may even be pressured to start a family together, while you remain the other woman with no happy ending in sight for either of you. Go figure - starting a family in a loveless marriage while the woman Liam truly loves is left to suffer. How could you possibly keep yourself in a situation like that?

Deciding you're sick of reducing yourself to watching this charade play out - because, after all, you had to sit through the ceremony - you promptly excuse yourself without a word. Everyone's so busy watching Liam and Madeleine that they don't even notice you leaving, but even if they did, they wouldn't care. You were essentially part of the common rabble, anyway. You didn’t have much of a right to be here.

Suddenly, you hear your name, clear as the peal of a bell over the din of the music. It's none other than Maxwell, running up to you with a bewildered look on his face. His presence - and voice, for that matter - seem to shatter the spell induced around you, and a few nobles break their attention away from the dancing newlyweds to scowl at you two.

"Hey, where're you going? I've been looking all over for you," he says, shoulders heaving with the gasps of air he's taking in from running. The last you saw him, he was sitting beside you at the ceremony, holding your hand tightly in his and rubbing his thumb in circles against the back of your hand for encouragement and giving you tiny squeezes every now and then, while you held his hand lamely and gave him weak smiles every time he looked over at you with sadness in his eyes. He gave you the strongest and longest squeeze when Liam kissed Madeleine on the lips for the first time, officially declaring them man and wife. Since then, you felt like you needed some space, since a usually-cheery Maxwell giving you all these pitying looks was too much for you to handle, so you tried avoiding him as much as possible, along with all your other friends.

You smile a sad smile. "I'm just going out for some fresh air, Maxwell. I'm fine, I promise."

Maxwell pouts, his deep blue eyes darkening dolefully. It pains you to see him like this because he's worried about you. Where's the Maxwell you know and love, remaining optimistic and bubbly in any situation? It definitely would've made you feel at least a little better to see that his mood hasn't changed, but now he's much too preoccupied with concern for you to even bother with his mischief, intentional or not. "But you're not fine. You're my best friend, I know when you're not fine. Drake, Hana, me, and even Olivia - we're really worried about you. At least let me keep you company."

You sigh impatiently. "I don't need you all worrying about me. I'm fine. I just want to be alone right now."

Maxwell sighs in return. He knows better than to argue with his little blossom, especially considering how scary you could get when you get angry. Of course, you’ve never once directed your anger at him, but he didn't want to keep pushing your buttons and find out what it would be like on the receiving end of it. So he concedes - if only a little.

"Okay. I'll let you go... on one condition." His lips split into a wily grin. You roll your eyes, cursing whatever it is you said about missing his mischief, because there’s a time and a place for that, and this is definitely not either of the two. Even so, you cross your arms, knowing there's no way you can stubborn your way out of this one.

At this point in time, Liam and Madeleine have separated from each other completely with a mutual curtsy as their dance and the music comes to an end, and the nobles circled around them begin to clap and cheer.

In the midst of the applauding nobles, Maxwell says, "If you're really fine.." he holds a hand out to you, the corners of his mouth turned up in a full-fledged smile that reaches his once-again bright eyes, "you'll dance with me."

You start to turn around exasperatedly. "Maxwell, I don't have time for this -"

Before you can turn around completely, Maxwell has already grabbed your hand, pulling you back around slightly to face him. "Come on, it'll be fun! Don't you remember how fun it was practicing it together? We can show Liam and Madeleine how the Cordonian Waltz is really done."

You sigh and avert your eyes from his expectant ones. Despite Bertrand's ever-growing list of complaints and critiques about your footwork as he observed you both, you did have a lot of fun dancing with Maxwell; he was an amazing dancer and an even better partner, always encouraging you and patiently guiding you every step of the way, literally. And he always managed to make it fun, what with his goofy faces and terrible puns - that is, until Bertrand would reprimand him to stop and ‘train his face’ so he would regard you stoically, as is customary with the dance - or at least Bertrand thinks so.

By the time you've mastered it enough to do it for fun, it felt as though some of his talent and confidence rubbed off on you, and you were more than grateful to him for being such a great teacher. Perhaps, in a way, this would be paying him back.

Against your better judgement, you sigh again and cave to his demands. He cheers and pulls you to the dance floor without missing a beat, barreling through and knocking your body against clusters of several nobles and evoking annoyed outbursts in the process.

Luckily, the two of you have reached the dance floor by the time the next song begins, all angry nobles aside. You recognize it as a pop song you’ve heard back in America a few years ago - perhaps it was selected for its time signature, perfect for waltzing. It’s quite a strange selection when you consider the people involved, especially since this is a royal ceremony, but the fact that you recognize it will make it easier for you to get comfortable, so you won’t be tempted to look over at Liam and Madeleine every two seconds.

Maxwell smiles down at you and pulls you in closer to him, one of his hands acting as a gentle presence on the small of your back, while you lace one of your hands in his opposite hand and place your other hand on his back just under his arm. The good thing about this dance is that there’s no Bertrand here to nitpick every move you make - you’re not the only ones on the dance floor, nor are you the focus of the dance itself, so you don’t have to worry about ‘performing’. Like Maxwell told you, it’d be fun. You take a deep breath and surrender under his gentle hold, allowing him and the music to take you away and lead you into the first move, the box step.

I’d never gone with the wind Just let it flow Let it take me where it wants to go ‘Till you open the door There’s so much more I’ve never seen it before

You feel Maxwell’s hand applying a gentle pressure on the inside of your palm, and thanks to your various lessons, it automatically registers in your head to begin to move backwards, so you do, and he follows your lead. Throughout all your lessons, though, you’ve never once noticed how soft and warm his hand feels against yours. It had simply never occurred to you - it was like a new feeling entirely. You squeeze his hand and look up at him through your eyelashes shyly, and he responds with a smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You look wonderful tonight."

You giggle and feel heat rushing up to your cheeks from the compliment. You’re more than used to getting compliments from Maxwell, but somehow, this one was different. More.. intimate. “Thank you,” you say bashfully in return.

I was trying to fly, but I couldn’t find wings But you came along and you changed everything.

You lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around You make me crazier, crazier.

As these lyrics play, he quite literally leads you into a spin on your tippy-toes that could dizzy anyone, but you’ve trained for this; you’re accustomed to the dizziness by now, and you know to focus on something stationary to ground yourself, so you pick Maxwell. You feel yourself being lifted off the ground in accordance with the lyrics, and squeal with glee because nobody's stopping you, not even the guests dancing around you, and because Maxwell's never done this during your lessons, lest he get a tongue-lashing from Bertrand. But he doesn't have to worry about him now. It's all about you both, and it isn't at the same time. His bright eyes capture yours as you're giggling and squealing and it's as if you're weightless, soaring through the air, free as a bird - you never knew Maxwell was this strong. But the moment is short lived, because he unceremoniously plops you back down on the ground, winded. Looks like he isn't that strong after all.

Feels like I'm falling and I I'm lost in your eyes You make me crazier, crazier.

Maxwell blows a tuft of hair out of his face and smiles at you sheepishly. "Sorry," he says, quickly taking you in his arms again and leading you into the next move, a slower twirl. You can't help but chuckle and shake your head, saying, "It's okay. I was gonna tell you that I didn't know you were packing so much heat under that button-down, but I guess I stand corrected." Maxwell chuckles bashfully in return, leading you back into the box step.

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own Every sky was your own kind of blue And I wanted to know How that would feel And you made it so real. You showed me something that I couldn't see You opened my eyes and you made me believe.

As the chorus repeats, Maxwell begins to spin you again, but knows better now than to bite off more than he can chew and lift you this time. But lo and behold, you focus your gaze on Liam and Madeleine as you spin, and it's like something's knocked the breath out of you as soon as you see how close they are now. You hate yourself for feeling this way. You know what they have is not, and never will be, real. So why does it bother you so much? You suppose it's because they got their happy ending and you didn't, and it just isn't fair. Watching them for so long makes you lose your footing, so you collapse into Maxwell's arms, dizzy. Luckily, he's quick enough to catch you.

"Hey, hey," he says, rubbing your back and tilting you forward so you can stand on your two feet again, "I've got you." But you don't budge. You keep yourself splayed against his chest, burrowing your head deep enough that you can hear his heartbeat, whose rhythm is slowly but surely picking up.

"W-what's wrong?" He babbles, obviously flustered, but making no move to remove you from his chest. He doesn't wait for an answer, though - all he has to do is look beyond you to see Liam and Madeleine, and he knows. He sets his jaw in consternation.

"I just... wish I never put so much faith in fairytale endings,” you say, your voice muffled from speaking against his chest. “I should've known they could never happen to someone like me."

"What do you mean?" Maxwell questions, sounding genuinely oblivious.

Baby, you showed me what living is for. I don't wanna hide anymore.

You pull yourself away from his chest to face him, tears brimming in your eyes and your voice shaking like a leaf. "Don't you get it, Max? I'm nothing special. I'm just some nobody waitress who grew up in some nobody town. I don't know anything about royalty or being royal beyond Disney movies and Henry VIII's wives. I don't have a title or fortune to my name, and because of that, I lost out on my happy ending. I'm starting to wonder why I even thought I could ever get it in the first place."

Maxwell's face begins to become more sorrowful. "Hey, don't say that -"

You cut him off. "Don't say what? The truth? You said Bertrand had faith in me, but I know he's always seen me as the nobody I've always been, and always will be. So does everyone else in this God forsaken country. They don't think I deserve a happy ending, and it's time I realize that they're ri-"

And just then, as the chorus plays one last time, you feel Maxwell's hands on your cheeks, pulling your face to his and pressing his lips feverishly to yours. You're rendered momentarily immobilized by this gesture, powerless to do anything but close your eyes and relish how soft his lips feel meshing against yours.

But just as suddenly as it started, it ends the same way. Maxwell yanks himself away from you, looking completely startled. You can still feel him lingering on your lips. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I’m such a screw-up, I’m sorry, I-“

“Maxwell,” you cut him off abruptly, reaching up slightly to brush his cheek and to turn his head a little to face you, his longing eyes holding the image of a rolling sea under the moonlight. “It’s okay.”

He uses his thumb to rub away a dried stream of tears from your cheek. “I just can’t stand hearing you talk like that. I think you’re amazing, and you’re the strongest person I know. I’m really sorry you had to go through this tonight, but I know your happy ending is out there waiting for you to find it. That’s a promise.”

As the song comes to an end, you let go of him, offer him a mutual curtsy, and a “M’lord” and “Milady” exchange, but when he looks up, he does not meet your eyes.

“So. A deal’s a deal,” he says flatly.

“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I said I’d leave you alone if you danced with me, and you did. So if you need me, I’ll be on the rooftop.” He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond - he just pivots on his feet and eases his way through the crowd, towards the elegant spiral staircase to the rooftop. It doesn’t take you too long to lose sight of him completely.

With that, you’re left feeling lost and completely confused, and that damn tingly feeling still on your lips. What kind of guy kisses you like that and exalts you to the moon, only to leave you so abruptly? Sure, a deal was a deal, but you never would’ve expected him to actually leave you alone after something like that - especially not Maxwell. What the hell is up with him?

Meanwhile, out of the corner of your eye, you see two people seemingly fighting over a microphone - or, rather, one person is pushing the microphone in someone’s face, while the other is pushing it away from their face. When you walk towards them to get a closer look, you see that it’s Drake and the wedding officiator, probably fighting over the best man’s speech.

“Look,” you hear Drake say, “If you think I’m going to put on a show and say some bottom of my heart nonsense about that viper, you’re out of your damn mind, friend. I’m only doing this for Liam, so I’ll only acknowledge Liam, got it?”

The officiator shakes his head and shoves an index card in Drake’s face, most likely listing what it is he should say to the royal couple. Drake responds with, “And how am I supposed to wish them ‘fertility and prosperity’? She probably lays eggs.“

At this point, the officiator has given up, throwing the card aside and muttering something about commoners as he walks away. Now that he’s out of eyeshot, Drake, currently nursing a glass of whiskey, spots you and waves you over, so you take a seat beside him.

“What’s up, New York?" he says to you, sliding you a glass of champagne with one hand as his opposite arm is slung around the crest rail of the chair. "Haven’t seen you since the ceremony.”

“Oh, you know,” you say, shrugging and looking dejectedly into the glass, “I’ve been here and there.”

He lowers his head a little to look into your eyes. “You holding up okay? I realize how hard this must be on you.”

You keep your eyes trained on the bubbles in the honey-colored liquid as they drift to the surface. “I’m fine. Just confused, is all.”

“About?”

Finally, you turn to face him, wrapping your fingers around the stem of the glass.“Well… say you were in my situation. How would you feel if your best friend just kinda kissed you after you were whining about never getting a happy ending just to get you to shut up because he thinks the world of you, apparently, and then just runs away?”

Drake raises his eyebrows, his eyes widening almost comically. “Wait.. don’t tell me this is about Maxwell.”

“The one and only," you say into your glass as you take a sip.

He mirrors you and takes a sip of his whiskey, still looking surprised. Then he chuckles. “Jeez. That’s definitely something. Never knew he had it in him.”

“What do you mean?” you ask warily, setting the glass down.

“Well, to me, it sounds a lot like Maxwell’s holding a torch for you, but doesn’t know how to deal with it. Explains why he kissed you so out of the blue like that, and then left you so easily. He might’ve been embarrassed or afraid he’d come on too strong, especially after all that’s happened to you. This might be his way of giving you time to breathe, out of character as it is for him.”

You furrow your eyebrows pensively and stare at your glass again. Maxwell? Holding a torch for you? That couldn't be right. He's acted as nothing but a good friend to you all this time, always there when you needed him. In fact, he was always the first one there when you needed him. When you left for your flight back to New York after the Coronation, he was the first one at the airport - along with Bertrand, of course. But you remembered what he said to you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders; "We could never forget about you! We came here as soon as we could." It was so like all the other encouraging things he's said to you, yet so.. distinct at the same time. It was exactly what you needed to hear.

After a while, you realize you've drifted off. Drake waves a hand in front of your face. "Earth to New York, do you read me?" he asks in a deadpan tone. You shake your head and blink a few times, apologizing.

"So now that you've had some time to breathe and reflect.. allow me to pick your brain. How do you feel about all that's happened?" he says, crossing his arms. It's now that you realize that Drake could be an excellent therapist.

You shrug noncommittally. "It's.. really strange, actually. I'm.. picking up on little things that happened throughout our relationship." You then go on to list the various sprinkles of things that you've discounted before, like when you danced with him and told him there was no place you'd rather be, and he said you shouldn't talk like that, because you're here to become queen on behalf of House Beaumont. You tell Drake how great of a friend Maxwell has been to you, always there to pick you up when you're down, and how he's always been your number one cheerleader, no matter what. Liam might've wanted to be there for you after the events of the Coronation, but the fact of the matter is that he wasn't. You didn't resent him for it, but his intentions didn't make you feel any less alone or hurt. At least you found solace in the fact that Maxwell was there for you, if no one else.

You also tell Drake about how Adelaide told you two how cute you looked together, and you joked around saying you did, while he got flustered, but played along anyway. Then, when Penelope was looking for a bachelor, she wondered if she and Maxwell would make a good match, but you tell Drake that you disagreed and listed qualities of someone you thought was his type, and how her saying, 'Someone like you?' really caught you off guard. It wasn't what you meant to insinuate at all, but when you thought back on it.. perhaps those qualities did sound a bit like you.

And then.. there was the camping trip. You regale Drake on all that happened inside the tent with Maxwell - how you tackled him and how nice hugging him felt and how you suggested you cuddle to keep the ghosts away. You may not have been afraid of any ghosts like he was, but you still felt safe there with him.

Finally, you tell Drake how you felt something while you danced with Maxwell tonight. Something was different from all the times you've danced with him before. Perhaps it was the way he complimented you - sure, he always compliments you, but something about it felt different this time. It seems to have touched you in a different way.

You don't understand why it took you this long to figure out, but maybe there really is something between you both. Perhaps it was all the crazy things happening at court and you being too focused on trying to clear your name and secure your rightful happy ending to pick up on all of this, but now you know you have to tell Maxwell.. something.

All the while, Drake nods intently, taking sips of his whiskey. "Well, wherever he is, I'm sure he's waiting for you, so..."

You smile and reach over the seat to wrap your arms around Drake's shoulder in a sort of awkward, yet tight, hug. He's stiff against you at first, most likely taken aback by the randomness of the gesture, but he embraces you back after a while. "Thanks, Drake. I won't forget this."

"Heh. As if I'd let you," he says as you get up and wave at him from over your shoulder, heading towards the elegant spiral staircase that leads out to the rooftop.

The rooftop offers a gorgeous, expansive view of Cordonia. Cute little townhomes dot the hills with their lively light. Crickets chirp above the light hum of the music downstairs, and you catch sight of Maxwell standing at the railing, looking out at the deep purple night sky. It shimmers with stars, a quite unusual appearance in a region polluted with light, but beautiful nonetheless.

You walk towards him and place your elbows on the railing, joining him as you gaze out at the full moon. If he notices your presence, he makes no indication.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You say suddenly. Maxwell jerks away from you with a yelp, startled. Looks like he really didn't expect to see you here.

"Sorry, sorry," you say with a light chuckle, remembering how jumpy he could get.

"It's okay. But, yeah.. it really is." You would think he's referring to the sky as he says this, but instead, he's looking over at you with this longing in his eyes, taking you in as if for the first time. You notice his Adam's apple bobbing.

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, he begins to speak. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I'm a screw-up, and I only made your situation worse by kissing you after all that's happened. I just.. didn't want to keep hearing you talk about happy endings you won't ever get when it's not true."

He pauses to shut his eyes and take a deep breath, then starts again. "I don't know how it happened, but somewhere down the line, I fell for you. I kept it to myself because I didn't want anything getting in the way of you getting the crown... especially not me. I never would've been able to forgive myself. But now that that's gone.. that just leaves us. I know I don't have everything. I can't give you that fairytale ending. But I want to at least give you a happy one... if you'll let me."

"Maxwell.." you breathe.

He keeps going. "If not, that's okay, too. I know you must want some time to yourself after all this. You can take all the time you need. But, again, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for confusing you. I'm sorry for being a screw-up. I'm sorry -"

You decide to rudely interrupt Maxwell's pity party with a kiss equally as sudden and passionate as the one he's given you just moments before, cupping his cheeks. Once you trace your tongue along his lower lip, it doesn't take him long to relent at all. You feel his arms encircling your waist as the kiss deepens, and the brisk evening wind is completely nullified with the warmth of his body against yours.

"Stop apologizing. You promised me I'd find my happy ending, and now I’m realizing that it's been disguised as my best friend all along," you say once you pull away, your hands resting on the nape of his neck. You lean in for another kiss, but he places his hands on yours, stopping you.

"What is it?" You ask.

His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bugged out in his traditional flustered expression. Never in your life have you ever seen anything more adorable. "Well, I just.. uhhh.. was wondering if this means you.. like me, like me," he stammers.

"Depends. Does this mean you like me, like me?" You tease.

"It does," he says without a moment's hesitation, smiling as though he's won the lottery.

"So there's your answer, silly," you say, loping your fingers through his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

[mybukz]

Work-in-progress: Heathen by Deborah Joy Peter

Image: Seduction of Chaos by Martijn Vreugde, licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0

AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 2 OF HEATHEN

My morbid sensibilities aside, Deidra proved a rapturous diversion when I answered the door at first ring of the bell. Mane pulled back in a sturdy knot, her towering neck, complemented by a cream-coloured pendant and dangling earrings that shimmered as they swayed, was every bit the show-stopper. Gently glossed lips cockered me with the twinkle of finely spoken verbiage, causing tingling to a degree. I had half-expected cleavage but her modesty arrived just in time to school me in a modicum of decency. Her collarbones popped from behind bare velvety skin, while an ebony crew neck tee shielded womanly opals from the naked eye. Still, they spoke volumes as loud as double Ds spanning a full 42-inch yield—a wild suspicion that was later confirmed. She stood donned in a silky bohemian drape that boasted mad pelvic engineering on its long way down to accessorised ankles that jangled with every rhapsodic step.

As I prepared to match my hello with an outstretched hand, she inched closer and upgraded my measly reception with a peck to my left cheek before switching to the right. Her light scent was inviting. It was as if a spring burst of freshly-bloomed lilacs had sprung from the garden that was Eden on strict orders from its keeper and landed on my once pale but now flushed face. When the moment was past, she held out the bottle of Chardonnay she had brought with her and affirmed, “For us.” I led her into my living room and gave her the go-ahead to get comfy before I re-emerged with two paper cups filled almost to the brim and joined her on the soft couch. Urgently hoping then that my razor-sharp wit would materialise to show me off, I was left high and dry, and so, sipped white wine instead like the lumbering imp that I was while gawking on sheepishly.

“Excellent choice. Super bubbly,” I blurted out spastically.

Sensing I was overly on edge and unintentionally dishevelled in my organisation of the night’s proceedings, my classy friend opted to have a little bit of fun at my expense.

“So, I bet you swung some fancy roast into the oven,” she joshed, keeping a straight face.

That cheeky kumquat knew I had nothing. I couldn’t help but chuckle in retort before announcing: “Touché! I’ll grab the cheese and crackers and order us a pizza in fifteen.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Wow, a whole pizza pour moi,” she jibed and added, “Boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

She was stupendous, hilarious, and unafraid to show it. Thus, I piled on for mutual amusement. “Hey, I am not a total shmuck. It’s the least I can do and I always try to do the very least.”

She giggled generously, glorifying my impeccably-timed swipe at spontaneous hilarity. “A cutup, are you? Well, don’t exhaust your material all at once.”

That cracked me up. By the end of that first hour, we had warmed up to each other effortlessly and I was right at home in more ways than one. Where I would normally stick out like a sore left thumb at a gay parade, this dazzling thing made a grizzly oaf like me seem normal. How I’d traversed halfway across the globe and chanced upon my unsurpassed complement in a land whose main vernacular was something unheard of anywhere else was beyond me. She chattered and I listened until it was my turn.

“How is your English this good?”

She chewed on her beef pepperoni slice, held up an index finger, signalling for me to hold for a second, swallowed, took a gulp of white, and replied in between chortles, “Gunther, tell me this. Before you landed on our seaweed-strewn shores, did you think we lived in trees, swung from branch to branch, thumped our hairy chests, ate wild bananas, and dangled upside down?”

I was quick to inform her that the thought had crossed my mind once or twice, but she had clued in on my tomfoolery. Then, switching to a more serious note, she went on to elucidate: “I was brought up on Hollywood movies and solid literature dreamt up by the likes of Enid Blyton, Charles Dickens, George Eliot, and Mark Twain. If I stand out, it’s thanks to the nurturing of an English-speaking mum.”

She proved increasingly mesmerising with each passing minute, and I became steadily more inebriated with every shot of Johnnie Walker down my throat during our second hour together. In that short span, I’d learnt that she had come from humble beginnings, secured an education through a life-saving award, loved to write but pursued hotel management at her old lady’s say-so, enjoyed watching the rain, hadn’t seen snow in her life, and was an avid reader who devoured books for breakfast, lunch, tea, and supper.

BIO

As for the book dubbed Heathen, it is a pilot novel project by long-standing Malaysian published specialist writer, business journalist, freelance editor, content strategist, and first-time book author, Deborah Joy Peter, who operates via her self-established bespoke banner, Buzzing Bee Productions.

The literary work is somewhere between a fiction- and nonfiction-type memoir based on the life and times of a self-deprecating older male who uses comedy and/or humour as a defence mechanism to cope with and deflect from the realness of relationships, sex, women, romance, aging, other humans as well as his personal flaws. As such, it is graphic in some parts and funny in others, but assuredly, relatable and authentic throughout. She is a female author attempting to write in the hand of a mildly yet at times fully masculine male protagonist.