#anyway ramble over <- hes said that like a million times today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evie-sturns · 2 months

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𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 - 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: you and matt had previously dated for a few years until him and his brothers grew famous, where matt became arrogant and self centered. fast foward to to present, a couple years later. you have moved on from matt completly until you run into him at an influencer party, what will unfold when you approach him? will you two rekindle or will the wall stay strong between you two.

contains: angst, arguing, swearing, fluff, making out.

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(2 years ago)

i lay on the couch next to matt, my head resting on his shoulder as the tv rambles. hes invested in his phone, typing every few seconds.

hes been filming videos with his brothers, chris and nick, for the past year or two, and they've just hit 3 million subscribers.

matt clears his throat before moving my head off him, "i gotta talk to you, yeah?"

my eyebrows furrow, i look over at matt who has an unreadable expression on his face. I nod slowly with a hum, "i don't know how to say this, but uh-... nick chris and i have decided to move to l.a with laura."

what?

"what?" i instantly reply, my stomach drops to my knees.

"gotta chase them dreams." he shrugs casually, picking up his phone.

anger starts to bubble inside of me, why the fuck is he being so nonchalant about moving across the whole country? what am i gonna do, just be left here and forgotten about?

"what the hell matt!" i say, raising my voice and slamming the phone out of his hand, he throws his hands up defensively. "are you being fucking serious right now?" i yell, "calm down bro?" he mumbles, picking his phone back up.

i stay silent, waiting for matt to speak, or atleast a solution. he just stays silent, looking around the room. "matt, what am i gonna do." i sigh, trying to contain myself.

"uh.. not sure?" matt leans back on the couch. "like you can come with if you want but i won't really.." he pauses for a few seconds

"have time for you..? i mean we're staying in lauras apartment which doesnt have enough space anyway but you could always sleep on the couch or something."

i scoff, "so this is it?" tears start to roll down my cheeks. "if you can't handle my fame and me moving then thats not my problem." he runs a hand through his hair before standing up.

without another word I'm upstairs and packing my suitcase, I'm leaving.

(Current time)

ever since matt and i's messy breakup ive been moving around alot, i spent the first month or so living with my parents, where i started content creating on various platforms. i would be lying if i said i didn't get popular, over the past 2 years ive gained a few million followers.

a year ago today i moved to l.a, where i've been thriving.

9:38pm

"y/n come on!" i hear yolanda, my roomate, shout from downstairs, today i've been invited to a party for influencers, i think. i run downstairs in my baby pink stiletto heels. yolanda is wearing a long shimmering black dress with a large slit up to the mid thigh. "hottie" i tease as i walk past her.

"shush" she replys with a wide grin, i walk outside to find our uber waiting patiently "yoyo!" i yell back to her as she scrambles around to find her purse.

i climb into the uber, "my bad, my friends coming now."

yolanda comes running outside, swinging open the door to the uber and crawling over me. i laugh slightly at her, she glares at me while applying lip gloss.

"you okay?" i ask her, "just nervous, its weird being a plus one to a party where i know famous people will be." she replies with a breath.

"you'll be okay gorg, i have no idea whos even going so we'll just stay together hm?" i say comfortingly, watching the lively streets of l.a outside the window.

the uber comes to a stop outside a large beachside mansion, i give him a quick thankyou before grabbing yolandas hand and approaching the house. the blaring music is audible from outside the house.

we walk up the stairs together, our heels clicking in sync on the marble steps. the doors to the house are wide open, the first person i see when i come inside makes my heart drop.

christopher sturniolo

my breath hitches in my throat, theres thankfully no sight of matt, i mean hes never really been one for partys. i feel physically sick when me and chris lock eyes, i guess i look different since the last time i saw him, 2 years ago.

I haven't really thought about matt since i moved to l.a, the last person i wouldve expected to see here is his triplet brothers.

i shoot yolanda a look, she looks equally has disturbed as me.

i decide to keep navigating through the various bunches of people, i look back and yolandas gone, flirting with some random instagram male model. i scoff with a smile.

i turn my body back around, an audible gasp escapes my mouth as matt sturniolo stands infront of me,

alone.

he smiles awkwardly with a wave, he looks me up and down while he clutches the cup in his hand so tight his knuckles go white. "you look different." matt says, his voice shaking from nerves

"charming." i roll my eyes.

"no!- no i meant in a good way, i mean in a platonic way, but you look different, sorry-.. how are ya doing.." matt rambles, stammering over every word.

a small smile forms on my face, which instantly drops when i remember the events of what happened the last time i saw him. "i've been doing really good actually." i reply, nodding my head slowly.

"yeah, i saw !thats awesome you got selected for that peoples choice awa-rds..." matt says before stopping himself, i laugh slightly.

has he been stalking me? that got announced an hour ago.

"thanks matt, how have you been?" i ask, he takes a small breath "i've been good, yeah.." matt says, he clearly doesn't think the world revolves around him like how he did 2 years ago.

another silence fills the air between us, but he breaks it. "do you wanna come with me?" matt asks abruptly, my eyebrows furrow "sure?"

he reaches out a hand subtly, i take it.

he guides us through hundreds of people, yolanda eyes me down with her jaw slack, i shrug my shoulders with a smile back at her. the night hair hits my revealed skin as matt lets my hand go slowly.

"should we go sit on the sand?" i ask quietly while we walk side by side on the footpath.

10:12pm

matt and i have been walking side by the shoreline for a few minutes, catching up on the past 2 years of no contact

"wait so you're at 6 million?" i laugh in shock, he shakes his head with a smile "shut up!!"

"no like, congratulations matt thats really awesome."

he shrugs it off with a playful nudge to my shoulder,

the past 30 minutes or so neither of us have brought up the last time we spoke, our last interaction, the final fight. i think we both don't want to ruin what we have going on right now.

a silence forms as the ripple waves crash onto the shore, my palms are sweating from the warmth from the night. "wanna go sit up there? in the dunes?" matt asks, pointing up the beach. "oh-..oh yeah!" i agree chirpily, snapping out of my somewhat 'trance'

he leads us away from the water up into the sand dunes, the mound of sand and grass behind us acting as privacy. he flops down onto his back, laying down on the sand. I lay down close beside him, our legs touching against eachother.

"i want to talk to you about what happened that night." i blurt out softly, just from the plain moonlight i can see matts cheeks are a deep maroon. he nods "yeah." with a shaky sigh.

"i was an asshole, like proper crazy." he says in a serious tone.

"honest to god i think the fame was making me go insane, i thought i was so much better than.. everyone? i never shouldve told you like that, or moved in general" he rambles, guilt painted in his voice.

"matt, moving was best for you." i cut him off, but he instantly snaps back

"i don't think it was? i miss you so much."

i sit up, the loose sand falling off my back "and i never really moved on, i'm so grateful i found you tonight 'cause the guilt has been eating away at me, and im so sorry, i am so fucking sorry." matt mumbles slightly.

i nod understandably "i think we needed the break, i can see you've changed a lot, for the better."

matt sits up too, sand grains scattered in his brunette locks as his tongue pokes out quickly to wet his lips. his eyes stare into mine before he reaches out a hand to grab my jaw, right under my ear.

"can I kiss you?"

i nod frantically "yeah-of course"

matt leans in, his body shifting on the sand while the calm waves crash onto the shoreline.

his lips meet mine, a distant familiar feeling that i hate to admit but ive really missed, even though ive forced myself not to.

his tongue asks for enterance, which i quickly allow. his tongue slips into my mouth,

i move my hair to one side before hooking one leg over his thigh, moving my body to straddle him while keeping our lips connected.

our kiss turns from gentle, to desperate. craving what we've missed for the past 2 years.

after a well-needed few minutes, we finally pull away from each other to catch our breath. panting fills the air before he pulls me into a tight hug his arms moving over my back as i stay seated on his lap. leaning onto his chest.

"i think we should retry, everything." he matt says into my hair as i rest my chin over his shoulder

"gotta agree with you on that one matthew." i laugh, joy overpowering me.

"matt there you fucking are!" a familiar voice yells from a few meters away. i look up, breaking matt and i's hug.

chris and nick are standing side by side with a shocked expression on their face. "holy shit!" nick laughs,

nick used to be one of my closest friends, but after the breakup with matt and i we were forced apart, i think after his brothers caught me ontop of matt it gave them the all clear to interact with me again.

i climb off of matts lap, running across the sand towards nick before leaping into his arms, the long fabric of my dress drowning nick.

"someone please fill me in" chris says cluelessly.

matt walks over to us 3, nick puts me down "uh yeah, we are retrying stuff after a chat, a really good one actually." he says, scratching the back of his head.

"oh my god thank you y/n, matt has not shut up about you for the past 2 years holy fuck." chris says after a dramatic gasp.

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this took so long to write i hope u guys really like it!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #nicolas sturniolo

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kiddbegins · 5 months

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Cuteness Aggression - Connor Rhodes

Requested: yes

Word count: 707

Warnings: random facts that are boring included

A/n: these are all facts I genuinely just… knew…

masterlist

Something you always managed to do in your free time was find a way to learn some random information or fun fact that you could spread around to those around you. You’ve randomly educated everyone about the great molasses flood of Boston in 1919, that William Mitchell created pop rocks by accident in the 60s while trying to make instant soft drinks, the fear of long words was hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (which you could spell easily) and bucket loads more.

Each time it was met with excitement, your friends always adored hearing about them. No matter if it were history, science, english, anything based. If it was a fact coming from you, it was interesting. Sometimes you got the annoyed person that had had a bad day or just didn’t have the capability to soak up information that night but usually you were fine.

First and foremost on your biggest fans list was none other than Connor Rhodes, boyfriend of five years and fiance as of two weeks ago. He loved hearing you talk or ramble. Gave him the perfect excuse to just sit and listen silently.

He was never much of a talker and usually that meant that his lovers would get annoyed when he was too quiet. But you never minded. Of course you’d make sure he was alright if his vibe was off that night but usually he was just content in listening to you.

Like a couple days ago when you went on a whole spiel about the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers and how the Missouri river was considered the longest river in the country when half of it was actually the Mississippi river because the two merged in St. Louis and the Mississippi is the one that leads down and out of New Orleans. Granted it was only by a mile but that mile still doesn’t make up for the fact it was stealing its length from the Mississippi.

Did he care about which river was technically longer? No. But the way you genuinely got worked up over it made him smile so wide his eyes crinkled. Which in turn made you grin because truly his eye creases were just one of your favorite things about him.

“Connor, wanna hear what someone at work said today?” You happily asked, falling onto the bed and looking over at the man who was already shirtless and under the covers. Of course he nodded, pulling you to lay down properly.

As soon as your head hit the pillow your smile grew, “So, I was talking to Annette right? And she was telling me about her cats and that she has an orange cat and a calico cat, which they’re adorable. I'll show you a picture after,” You interlocked your fingers with his as you spoke.

“Anyway, did you know that most orange cats are boys and most calico cats are girls? Isn’t that cool? Like no matter what-” You were cut off by a long and lingering kiss to the lips, followed by peck upon peck to your cheek, forehead, temple and all the spaces in between.

A giggle built up in your throat as you scrunched your face up, Connor’s nose bumping against yours as he pulled back slightly, “What was all that for? You trying to shut me up?” You teased, knowing full well he’d never try and make you stop talking.

He shook his head, placing a light kiss to the tip of your nose, “No, you’re just really adorable when you get excited over the stuff you learn.” Connor spoke softly, his heart feeling like it grew a million and one times just by looking at you.

Your cheeks tinged dark red, a bashful smile on your face, “I- oh,” You muttered, always flustered when he complimented you. Whether it was on your appearance or something smaller like this it made butterflies fly all throughout your stomach.

“God I can’t wait to marry you.” He mumbled, pulling you forward for another kiss, this one more sensible since he wasn’t overcome by cuteness aggression. His hand slid to the side of your face, simply holding you there.

You brought a hand up to cover his, pulling back just enough to speak, “Neither can I.”

JOIN CONNORS TAGLIST HERE!

Tags: @winchesterszvonecek @everything-fandom @thebejeweledwatercat @mrspeacem1nusone @wnbweasley @alexxavicry @halsteadbrasil, @natashamea18 @katieemazz @firetruckstuckley

#connor rhodes one shot #connor Rhodes #connor rhodes fic #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor Rhodes and reader #chicago med #one chicago oneshot #one chicago x reader #one chicago #chicago med one shot #chicagomed #connorrhodes #teddy writes #teddy writes connor rhodes #teddy writes chicago med #teddy writes one chicago

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kiyoumie · 1 year

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featuring: timeskip!kenma (kodzuken).

warnings: cringe probably, very cliché plot, gn!reader.

note: pls this was a writing after like 3 years, i’m sorry if there are incorrect grammars :’

the lights in his room are dimmed, only his gaming lights are switched on. kenma's sharp eyes stings when he turned on his desktop for the ninth time of the day.

he gets his live ready, he just hit 10 million subscribers and now he wants to celebrate it with a Q&A with his fans. well, he promised his fans anyways, there's no going back now.

as his live starts, the camera turns on and he sees the chat run saying their his and hellos. some fans notice his eyebags, worrying about his appearance. some are donating already, throwing thousands of yens to him.

his appearance is quite bad. eyebags visible and you can literally see the tiredness in his eyes. his shoulders looks weak. but he can't back up now, he tweeted that he was gonna be live to celebrate his new achievement.

kenma giggles, “thank you for the dono.. kodzulove. yes, yes, we’re doing a Q&A today. don’t worry, i promised you guys..”

he looks down searching for something. it took him a second since his room is dark. he shows his fans his favorite black hair tie and begin to tie up his dyed hair into a bun. a lot of his fans goes crazy over this, kenma doesn’t realize why though. somehow it’s hot to them.

“alright. let’s start! first of all, congratulations for me for hitting 10 million subscribers. but of course i wouldn’t achieve this without you all …” kenma continues to ramble about his achievement and his gratitude towards his fans.

“.. okay, i’ve rambled too much. let’s start the Q&A now, remember that i can’t see every question because you guys are going fast in the chat. maybe i should turn on slow-mode.” kenma sighs into the mic and coughs before starting.

he reads out a question, “why did you start your channel?”

“pretty much because i liked gaming since i was a child. then i found out i can make money out of it, so.. yeah.” he smiles.

“can you prank kuroo again?”

kenma laughed as he read the question, he remembers the day he pranked kuroo by wasting his money to buy fucking apple pies from the nearby bakery, “soon. maybe. that might be a death wish though.”

“when can we see you play observation duty?”

“ah, right! i’ll play that soon, the horror game won the poll i started right?”

after a few questions, kenma got bored until he finds an unusual question. his fans mostly questions him about him and his gaming industry. only a few would ask him about his private life, his true fans knows that kenma doesn’t like being questioned about his real life.

“kenma, how’s your partner?”

he reveals a sweet smile before speaking, “they’re doing great. they’re currently doing their essay in the room beside mine. you know, they brought me dinner and dessert to my desk today just before i started this live. i said thank you but i genuinely feel like i can’t show them the love they deserve.

my partner has been spoiling me these days and i just wanna say that it’s cute. when i got home yesterday, my desk was clean. no, my room was clean. then i saw them sleeping on my bean bag..”

kenma stops and reads a comment, “yeah, the green bean bag one fan bought me. thank you for that by the way.”

“but anyways, i just wanna say that i love them so much and i feel like i don’t deserve them. yeah, yeah. i get it. i never say these type of things. but really, i feel like i don’t appreciate their love enough. what do you guys think i should do for them?” he leans down to his chair for awhile.

his chat goes crazy, a lot of awws and suggestions were said. donations flows in quick and he can hear the notifications in his ears.

‘take them out to a date!’

‘get them a gift!’

kenma gets up and giggles while waving his hands in front of his camera, “i’ll do your suggestions. okay, enough of that. next!”

kenma knows that you’re doing your essay right now, but what he doesn’t know is that you have him in the background while you do your work.

you are absolutely ready for a surprise tomorrow.

#haikyuu fluff #kozume kenma #kenma fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #nekoma #kozume kenma fluff #anime #kodzuken #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #kiyoumie writes 🧸

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smileyvillainarc · 9 months

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so this is inspired by a darksun one shot that i saw on ao3

young, drunk and alone - regiulusblack

but instead of Barty being the one to drunk call James, it’s in reverse and takes place during 5th year as Barty starts to realise how messed up James really is and how much holding in his feelings is literally crushing him alive !!!

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Barty had got stood up. Officially speaking it had been about four hours since he been stood up but he had decided to give it a couple of hours just in case James had been running late or his ADHD had hit him and he had temporarily forgotten about him but four hours in he could no longer make any excuses.

He was pissed of course. That’s how he should be feeling, but he was also feeling this slight ache in his chest that made him feel sad. He didn’t quite understand that part. It wasn’t as though James had been required to come tonight, they only had makeshift plans from last week that he had never reconfirmed. He had probably forgotten. He had never forgotten before.

It was in this angry, confused and partly upset state that a patronus appeared in front of him.

“Barty”, James sighs. His voice is heavy with an exhaustion that Barty didn’t recognise.

“Did you know that muggles don’t have an instant remedy for healing a bone?” he sighs and then yelps slightly as though he were injured.

“You probably do, you’re smart like that- my genius boyfriend,” Barty didn’t know but he was too happy that James was calling him his boyfriend to care.

“I thought you might be wondering why I didn’t show up tonight, I’m sorry. I tried sending this like a million times, the muggles here actually thought I was drunk and started to feel so bad for me that they gave me some free alcohol- it sucks,” he then chuckles in that self-deprecating way that Barty feels his heart break a little.

“Anyways, I was feeling a bit sad today and Moony says that I should be careful when I’m sad because I do very dumb things and maybe just maybe I’ve done one of those things,” James starts, “ Okay this is definitely a very dumb thing to do, especially considering Padfoot banned me after the last time, but it’s okay - I’m okay, I’m in total control.”

“It’s why I sent it to you Barty, you won’t get like super mad at me because you don’t know yet,” he goes back to cackling as though he just made a funny joke.

He then suddenly pauses his laughter as though he remembers that he is still sending a patronus and a slight hustling noise is heard as James moves from a busier environment to a quieter one.

“I told them about you, you know. It’s funny how much they kept telling me that I should get over you, that I shouldn’t care for someone that would break my heart. They again they also said that I shouldn’t call you when I’m drunk but you know I’ll probably die before that happens,” he continues rambling,his words slowing at an alarming pace, “I think I love you - but it would be easier to die for you than to date you, Barty.”

And then the patronus dissipates and Barty is left only with overwhelming dread.

#james potter #maraders era #barty crouch jr #marauders #marauders era #darksun #james x barty #barty crouch junior #bartemius crouch jr #killerchaser #sirius black #remus lupin #prongs #padfoot #moony

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multiverse-imagines · 1 year

Note

Hiii, I love your writing and I finally came here with a request!👀✨ Could I have some relationship headcanons with reader and Legato please? (Sfw/nsfw is ok) How does reader get him to trust them enough to open up/get into a relationship? How about reader genuinely caring about him for once in his life, reassuring him etc.? THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ABOUT MY BOY OUT THERE, HE DESERVES BETTER!!😭😭

Thank you for listening to my ramblings :P

Have a good day✨ :D

A/N: omg of course!!!! Legato needs all the love! Feel free to request anything for Legato anytime! All of the Trigun characters are just so "My boy" to me, so I shall write for our boy! There will be some TriMax spoilers within, but I'll keep them as vague as possible. Because they're super heavy topics, and I want this to be digestible for readers!

Triggers: Slavery mention, and SA mention

Legato Bluesummers x Reader Headcanons

Sfw

Legato Bluesummers first love for the longest time was, of course, Knives Millions. His savior, his Master. The one who saved him from his miserable former life.

Which is why Legato is quite confused when he first meets you. You were the first being besides his beloved Master that he found… aesthetically pleasing (absolutely freakin' beautiful).

He saw you in a town that was near the base of operations for one of Knives' little side operations.

He first interacted with you at the local bar. He had seated himself in a distant corner of the bar counter, and you walked up just a few seats down and ordered your drink from the bartender. He caught your eye as you vacantly stared around the bar, lost in thought.

He saw you glance over his features, a light rush of blood settling in your cheeks. He hoped you wouldn't interact with him. Receiving your drink, you meandered back to your friends across the bar. He thought that was the last he'd seen of you.

He was wrong, of course.

Your next meeting was on his way through town, just an overly dressed bystander, making his way towards a warehouse. He felt something collide into his chest. It was you. Your body tensed up and your face turned a bright red.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" You apologized.

Legato could have killed you right then and there. Such a filthy human bumping into him and spoiling his clothes? Disgraceful! But he made the mistake of looking into your eyes as you calmed down, waiting for his response.

"It's… okay. Please watch where you're going next time." He said flatly before stepping around you, and walking off.

A few more chance interactions like this befell the two of you before you stopped him as he was about to walk off again.

"Hey, wait a minute!" You trotted along beside him, introducing yourself and asking his name. Legato was hesitant. Why did you need his name? He supposed it didn't hurt to indulge this Little One with the name of who would be their killer someday.

"Legato Bluesummers." He curtly responded before once again walking off.

Whenever you saw him around town, you would insist on saying hello and try to get him to talk to you more.

This aggravated Legato to no end. Why wouldn't you leave him alone?

"Oh, hey, they gave me an extra cake at the bakery today, would you like it? I don't really need it." You offered a small red velvet cake slice with a delicate white frosting.

"I'm sure I can find someone who wants it back at… the office." Legato fibbed. Why did he care if you knew he worked for Knives?

From then on it was little gifts here and there. A few bread rolls, a soda pop, a can of soup, stationery supplies. Eventually, the two of you sat in the central square chatting for hours at a time.

It was an odd thing for Legato. You didn't care about what he did for work; though he hadn't told you yet anyway. You enjoyed his fashion style, and you seemed to enjoy being around him in general.

"Legato, would you… like to join me for Dinner?" You sheepishly asked. Legato tensed up. Where was this going?

"I can't tonight, I have some work to finish." His reply caused your shoulders to dip and your face a frown, "but if we reschedule for tomorrow night, I'll… I'll make time for dinner with you." Your smile was wider than an ile, and Legato learned he liked something. Your smile. You nodded excitedly.

"What would you like to eat? Do you like.. curry? I make a really tasty curry!"

"S-sure." He hadn't had curry before. He preferred sweeter foods, typically.

"Do you like spicy or sweeter curry? I'd like to make it to your taste!" You said, mentally preparing to go off to the store to gather supplies.

There was a night the two of you sat on the roof of your home watching the stars. The two of you chatted about stars, space, and anything in between. It was there you told him that you loved him. You enjoyed spending time with him, sharing food with him, and the person he was around her. He frowned,

"I… I've enjoyed our time together as well, but… you don't know enough about me to tell me that you love me. You may know I enjoy the color blue, and like sweet food, but… you don't know what I really do for work, who my employer is… my past… I've kept you my little secret because you will get hurt. And I thought I buried the emotion of fear down so far it would never return."

He looked into your eyes. Your beautiful eyes that twinkled like the stars above, illuminated by the light of the moons, "You're only gonna get hurt."

"Legato. I don't care. Remember that time you kept my water glass from falling over? You caught it with.. some sort of telekinesis. That's an amazing ability!" You'd seen that? And you weren't scared?

"I know you could keep me safe. I don't care what you do. I don't have to go with you, either. Your home can be here, with me. Whenever you need a break from whatever plans this employer of yours has."

"You saw… my threads. I can use metal threads, thinner than the eye of a needle, to move anything as I wish. To cut anything I wish." He admitted to her.

He then proceeded to tell her about what he did, and what Knives' goals were. He was astonished to see you shruggingly agree with Knives, and the fact that humans had been pretty irresponsible with plants. You didn't think everyone needed to die for it, but some sort of balance had to be achieved, right?

That's when he knew he had truly found love. You weren't scared of him, you didn't completely disapprove of his deeds, his frequent evisceration of humans. You truly cared about his safety and his own well being. And in the end, that was acceptable to him.

Nsfw

Now Legato has a terrible past when it comes to physical intimacy. His childhood as a slave, and being used for sex still haunts him, and fuels his hatred for humanity as a whole.

He's created quite the barrier to keep people away, so sexy fun times are very rare.

He does however, make them nights you'll never forget.

You had to teach him about kind love, and not being so rough. You often let him top, since he is usually uncomfortable with feeling so vulnerable on his back.

Your first time you asked to be intimate with him, he shut down like Fort Knox. It took a good hour of coaxing him out of it, allowing him to tell you about his atrocious childhood.

"I… I want to be intimate with you. I just…" he'd forgotten what fear felt like.

"We can take things slowly. We'll do what feels okay to you, and I'll give a very gentle nudge sometimes. Is that okay?" He did eventually respond with a nod.

You couldn't touch Legato once your clothes are off. The skin contact triggers him, and he sobs uncontrollably. He hates it, but feels fortunate that it's only in your presence.

He holds you to the bed with his abilities as he presses kisses to your form, and loves to hear the noises you make while he makes love to you. They keep him in the moment, and allows him to continue just a little longer.

It's only super recently that he's allowed you to tangle your fingers into his hair while he kisses you in such a position.

#trigun #legato bluesummers #legato x reader #trimax #trimax spoilers #because thats the only place theyve revealed legatos backstory #tw: slavery #tw: sa mention

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thewolfwarriors · 1 year

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15 Years of HTTYD! ANNIVERSARY POST!

tl;dr: Ive been in the fandom since the far off ancient year of 2007 so this is a brief reflection of all that

Posting this today on the Winter Solstice, an important day for the Vikings, seemed fitting. Expand for the full text (there's pictures too!)

In the Winter of 2007, my middle school English teacher took us to our weekly Thursday trip to the library. I'd check out any book with the word 'dragon' in the title. I came across How to Train your Dragon by Cressida Cowell and immediately checked it out. I became so obsessed with the book that I learned the hard way that you can only recheck out a book so many times. Thankfully, my parents had given me some money for Christmas and took me to Books-A-Million after the new year! I think the specific date was Jan 8th.

To my ecstatic delight, there was not one, but THREE BOOKS now! After buying them, we went to Cici's Pizza and I had to convince my parents to let me bring them inside. I promised them I would be careful not to get any pizza on them.

I carried those books around with me daily! They were always with me at school. They got scratches all over the covers but they were my friends so I always had them around. I made so many stories of my own through them.

I have this memory of my dad walking into my room while I was reading How to Speak Dragonese.

"You're reading that again?" he asked.

"Ye...."

"We need to get you some new books." was all he said.

It used to say Mew on the inside of the cover before I decided to put the date down instead. That was my first internet name from my ye olde Neopets days. I named myself and all my characters that because I was so bad with naming.

I came up with Mew (now Mewgull) as my first HTTYD OC! She was the an heir to a large kingdom and she turned into a wolf ( I was obsessed with Wolf's Rain and nu-metal AMVS ok? )Then came along her brothers, the Dreadful Drones and the Wolf Warriors as a whole, my first LGBT+ characters (that I can remember at least) and many many more. Mew became my first mascot for my art and eventually I made my own "fursona" (before I knew what that was) based off her.

Annnnnd of course, tons of fan art, animations and even a Doomfang fursuit head. Most of this stuff was lost to time but some I was able to keep! I'll be uploading what's left of my old artwork here soon! I plan to do some redraws as well! ^_^ Some are already on my ancient sarcophagus of a deviantART account

For memories and funnies: here's my Fishlegs cosplay for "Dress up as your favorite book character day" at school! I don't know if it's embarrassing or endearing but hey, man, it was 2012.

I made the helmet and the necklace myself! I kept the luck lobster claws for a long time but I guess I got rid of them. :( Maybe in the future I'll make another pair! And yes, that's my Horrowcow I'm holding! Thanks mom for takin the picture!

Anyway, if you stuck around this long, I sure do appreciate it. These were all some of the many core memories I had and I love talking about them. I'll probably have many more sentimental ramblings like this in the future (... Sure hope "the Dreadful Drone" doesn't take on a new meaning) and of course, my old art. I'm really happy with how well of a reception my art was got on here so far. Thank you all.

Until next time, Peace.

Signed,

Mr.Hatman aka Mew -Dragonologist, Wolf Rain's AMV lover, System of a Down/KoRn fan, Poke'mon Master, Cosplayer, Irken Invader, the most Random Epicest Artist xDDDD :3

#httyd #httyd fandom #httyd books #how to train your dragon #httyd how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon books #childhood #fishlegs #httyd fishlegs #httyd nostalgia

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andreajingling · 4 months

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[A theres a knock on your door! When you open it.. There's a rather large present, with a note on top! the note reads as follows:

"hey im your secret santa. merry arcmas? meant to get this out earlier but busy. sorry for the delay. should still be arcmas for you right? hope you like the gift. just make sure your mons dont eat the chocolate of course. -rs"

Within the large box is lifesized Flareon plush! It's very fluffy... There's also some Konpeitō, chocolate chip cookies, and a Spell Tag.]

// this is the perfect chance for some lore lets gooo /lh ~ | The place was BUMPING when they first got there, lights all over the place, music blaring from inside both the house and the restaurant next door, both Christmas related and, not.. I could swear one song over in the restaurant next door sounds like it's singing about talking in your sleep.. Odd branding too, who's that yellow bear? | ~ ~ | Well anyways, after the knock, a voice echoed from in the house, one that was drawing closer with footsteps. | ~

"WE'RE NOT BUYING ANYTHING, IF YOU TRY AND PAWN OFF THOSE SHITTY KNIFE SETS ON US I SWEAR TO THE GODS ABOVE AND THE DEMONS BELOW I WILL- oh."

~ | The Brunette in a Santa Outfit was cut off as she realized it wasn't anyone, rather, anything. She examined the box for a second, before pressing her ear onto it to make sure nothing was ticking. Too many times Tavish put stickies in there, so says her memoir. After confirming that it wasn't a collection of bombs that her scottish father figure had sent to detonate again, she slowly brought it in, the party inside still bumping as she did. | ~

"Looks like we got mail folks. No clue from who, thought postal service didn't run today..

~ | She paused, pressing a worried hand to her chin.. | ~

"percy and the other mail services d i d get the christmas mail done yesterday right.."

~ | Another woman, taller than the brunette by what looked to be two or so inches approached, resting a hand kindly on their shoulder, faded gold eyes matching Andrea's own shimmering Sapphire, and black hair drifting down her back. | ~

"Yes honey everything there was sorted don't worry, I listened to your ramblings last night.. What's it say?"

~ | The brunette at last decided to properly look at the box's tag, reading over the note left on it. As she did, two other figures walked over, the child, and the cannibal. Both were taking an interest in the box, listening to their mothers converse about it. | ~

"hey at least one of us does Cassidy."

~ | Andrea jested, giving a small peck on the cheek to the spiritual woman next to her. And as usual, the ghost melted into her wife's grasp. Lesbians. | ~

"Ok from what I've read, it's from that Secret Santa thing we signed up for back at the start of the month. Forgot about that thing somewhat.. Hey they got the time zones right it's still Christmas here on the Pacific Coast.."

"Then why does it say 'Arcmas'."

"Might be a different name for it, different religions, cultures, ways of celebrating, y'know."

"Ooh. Yeah fair enough."

~ | The two women took a step back, as they looked to the kid and the demon girl who are still eyeing the gift. | ~

"Have at it you two."

~ | As SOON as Andrea said those five words, the two began to rip open that gift's wrapping with the might of the demons below which, honestly makes sense considering one's dead, and one is actively possessed. | ~ ~ | Eventually, the two finally got the box open, and pulled off the lid to reveal the contents inside. | ~

"COOKIES. MINE."

~ | Mary rushed off, cookies in hand, the feast shall begin. | ~

"Oh FUCK yeah! Spirit Tag! Been looking for one of these! Shed will love this."

~ | Maddie scurried off to the couch, showing her Shedinja the tag, and carefully securing it to him in a way that wouldn't make him shatter into a million pieces, not only using it for the fact it's a Spirit Tag, but also as a Name Tag, just in case he takes another joy ride on the railway out back. | ~

"No way, no fucking WAY bro! I remember HAVING this shit as a kid! My parents ALWAYS put this in my stocking!"

~ | Cassidy grabbed up the Konpeitō, ripping it open, and taking a good handful, putting it into her mouth and MELTING at the flavor.. | ~

"Mmmph! Oh my god that is, really, really nostalgic.. Honey?"

~ | Cassidy turned to see what her wife was doing, only to see the woman on the floor, holding the life-size Flareon plushie in her arms like a child, or more accurately those like *gently holds* memes with the yellow creatures. Her own Flareon 'Coasteon' was looking at it with great intrigue as well. She was practically frozen, just, holding it close. Cassidy couldn't help but chuckle, sitting next to her, and snuggling up, giving her a soft, yet loving hug. | ~

"Lost a lot this year, I know ya did. But, hopefully next year has a lot more promise. Merry Christmas Honey."

~ | And with her quiet words, the brunette leaned on the black haired spirit, and quietly, the two enjoyed the last fragments of the season together. | ~

// OOC // WOO! I LOVE writing! Always a wonderful Christmas treat to be able to absolutely print like a mother fucker. Thank you for the wonderful gifts, honestly wonderfully thought out. No idea who sent em but if you're the one let me know! // Also I think it's time for an update to that character post. Wife Time.

#andrea posts #cassidy posts #maddie posts #mary posts #pokeblogging #rotomblr #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #fnaf #cause i mean there are mentions of it so yeah it kinda fits #ttte #it's got some mentions too so #tumblr rp #rp #oc rp #in character #roleplay

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sanebrainofshane-blog · 2 years

Text

Year (1)2

**this post was written on 7/2/22, but I took a day to edit. So sue me! (please don’t you have no grounds!)

It has been exactly 11 years ago today was my last post. I don’t know why I thought about this blog today as I have not thought about it, at all, in years. One of those weird things, like when you have exact change (for reference, change is an old expression used to describe a physical currency. Also known as cash, money, moolah).

When I first moved to LA to get into the biz I did the thing where my grandparents, family friends, and former camp counselors were all putting me in touch with whoever they knew in the entertainment industry. Any human with a pulse and a single IMDB credit was enough to be a foot in the door. Cause, “Natalie Portman was discovered in a pizza shop” (she wasn’t) and “Barry Setler got his big break when he was a grocery bagger and he charmed the pants off a hot shot agent” (Barry Setler isn’t even a real person. I made him up. So, you can see how these examples are bullshit). And the number one reason to accept any and all set-ups in life is, and remains, that “You never know!”

One person I connected with by email was a legitimate Hollywood write who had written a big blockbuster and was, at the time, on production on their directorial debut which they had also written. A big deal. Let’s call them Person-Who-Made-It. I never got to meet his individual in the flesh because their time was, rightfully so, occupied by a multi-million dollar movie set and the weight of their budding career. They didn’t have spare time to get their own latte (oat milk wasn’t a thing back then so it was definitely real milk) for their cousin’s Hebrew school friend’s Mom’s coworker’s kid to ask questions like “How do you get an agent” and “What’s your favorite Bergman movie?”. Trust me, I get it. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend a half hour more with myself than I had to. I was a schmoozing gonna-take-this-town-by-the-balls hot headed kid. But I masked my confidence by being a good listener, so I came off as being someone you’d like to talk to more than want to punch in the face. (I assume this since I’ve been talked to a lot and never hit in the face once. But maybe that clock is still ticking).

Anyway, Person-Who-Made-It came across my blog (the one you are currently reading), which I had been contributing to on a semi-regular basis since I had moved to LA. “How did they find my blog?” I wondered! “I didn’t send it to them. How did it find it’s way to their screen? Are the successful elite of Hollywood taking note and interest in my quips and ramblings and sharing among themselves for respite from their busy, stress filled days? At the Chateau Marmont bar there are two conversations happening. 1) Who has the best diet and 2) who is this Shane kid?” It was either that, or the link to my blog was on the signature of my email. Either way, he found it and read it.

In one of our email exchanges I remember Person-Who-Made-It gave me a really kind compliment with some satient, wise and extremely obvious piece of advice. They wrote, “Take it light. Keep writing. I like the blog, man!”. This email made my day. My week. I was moved that my writing had been read at all, let alone enjoyed or appreciated. My ego inflated the compliment quickly and I soon figured Person-Who-Made-It was experiencing such joy and bliss from my writing that it was in their best interest that I continue my blog. That without my blog they would lose their highest and only source of entertainment or joy in their world.

As I write this down exactly 11 years to the day from my last post, two things are clear to me.

One: The Person-Who-Made-It was right (God, no wonder they had made it!). The best way to get good at something is to do it. Nike had been telling me the same thing my entire fucking life! How dense am I? Over the past 11 years I have received zero offers for a book deal. Nobody has ever sought me out and said, “We miss your good grammars and awesomeness. We will pay you for more! PLEASE SHANE! PLEASE! I can’t sleep knowing you continue to exist out there in the world, and that I can’t know the anxious, disruptive and humorous thoughts churning in your brain because you have stopped putting them in print. It is driving me crazy! I can’t hold a conversation with another human anymore because my attention is elsewhere. It is with you, and the missing blog posts of the last decade plus! My husband left me. He told me that he could no longer look into my forlorn eyes as he tried to find connection. He knew my only connection in the world was to your writing, and since that writing has gone I have been untethered from any humanity. I’ve gained so much weight, Shane. So much. I am no longer interested in my appearance or physical well being. My skin has developed a rare disorder where I develop dry rashes around my eye sockets.I scratch the rashes, not to relieve them from the itch, but to feel something. Because I know the burn of my skin will never burn like the fire that burns for the Sane Brain of Shane.”

Nobody has ever said that to me. It would have been crazy if anyone had.

Two: It is clear to me that if you stop doing something, there is no way to be successful at it. Journaling this morning I wrote (said) in my journal (to myself), “What would have happened if I had continued writing Sane Brain of Shane way back when. If for the past 11 years I had kept with it? How many entries would I have had by now? How talented of a writer would I be? Would I have my own website/channel/media empire? Would I be bigger than Goop? Equal to Goop? In the Goop conversation? How many books would I have written? Sold? How many times would I have appeared on late night talk shows promoting my work? Or just chumming around with the hosts because I am such a good guest on the couch? How many celebrities would I have dated, having met them backstage at this gala or that event? How many tabloids would have caught me picking my nose with the headline “Ewww!” or looking at other women as I was out to lunch with my, then, girlfriend? Who would she be? What would she look like? How the tabloids would be enraged and pin their readers against me for having wandering eyes, when in truth my partner and I would have had an open relationship. How I would have actually done nothing wrong in the eyes of the relationship, but only in the eyes of the world. But the chatter would have gotten so loud about the issue that it would have caused fights, hardships, and eventual separation between me and my, then, girlfriend. How we just weren’t built strong enough for something so difficult as the spotlight, and the world actually showed us the truth about ourselves without knowing they had. That we weren’t built to last. How I’d have my own whiskey brand, Sane Whiskey. How, from the brand photoshoot of me smelling barley and torching barrels it would appear I was really knowledgeable and involved in the process of making the whiskey, but in reality it would have just been a licensing deal to use my likeness, and because I know nothing about whiskey there’d be no way for me to run recipe testing or processes. I would have been faking it. But the whiskey would turn out well and it would be a nice income for generations of Shane’s to come.

But none of that happened, because the reality is that I did stop writing this blog. I dropped it and looked around in other places to see where I could find happiness, success, pay.

It was 2011. I worked on a TV show pilot as a Production Assistant and I didn’t do a great job. But I enjoyed being in the mix, being on set, being part of the machine that made people laugh. I was not asked back when the show got picked up for a season order. But I didn’t keep writing the blog.

I went on to work for a reality TV company that made programming about pregnant fashionistas and rude bartenders who caused mad drama. I quit when my boss was yelling at me for not doing a good job. Quitting felt good. Being broke without a job felt bad. I scrambled and luckily, eventually, I got a job that was considered “cool” and “exciting”. I worked for a celebrity. People respected me for it. I liked the attention. I didn’t want to let it go.

Like all close relationships, professional or otherwise, there was love and there was pain and there were ups and downs in that job with that celebrity. I was good at that job. I did not write any blogs. I did not write much of anything. I lived for someone else. I quit that job three times and went back twice over the course of three years. The third time quit, I let it go.

I did the same with a serious romantic relationship I had at the same time. A girl I was living with and loved. We had a dog and an apartment and a life. I broke up with her three times. I went back twice. The third time, she let me go. I don’t blame her. It was a wise choice.

I learned to meditate. I thought it would change my life. I did it for a week. It didn’t change my life. I let it go.

I was unemployed. I was single. My parents split up. My Mom came out of the closet and my Dad was broken hearted. I was broken hearted, too. For them. For myself. Losing the girl and losing the dog, unsure of which hurt more, I was broken hearted. I couldn’t let it go.

I started meditating again. I did it twice a day, every day. After a month it changed my life. I felt better in every way. I decided I wanted to share this healing with others. I could have written about it in my blog, but I wasn’t writing my blog. I wanted everyone to feel what I was feeling. I was feeling better. I would never let it go.

I drove cross country from LA when I moved to New York. I got a job at an organization bringing meditation to people who needed it. I wasn’t bad at my job. I wasn’t writing this blog. I lived on my friends’ couch for four months cause I was broke. They were generous to have me and I love them for it. Friends are there to hold you up when you can’t hold up yourself. That’s what friends are for. You have to let them do it for you, and you don’t forget to do it for them. I’ll never let them go.

I experienced my first winter in New York City. 2 degree Fahrenheit winds froze the snot to my mustache hairs. Winter won. I moved back to LA. New York and I liked each other, but we didn’t love each other. I let it go.

Moving to LA cost me my job. So I got a new one working for a designer. I was okay at that job. I fell in love with a woman the moment she sat on my lap, getting into the crowded back seat of an Audi coupe. We thought that we would change the world together. On our first date we hopped a fence into Runyon Canyon at midnight. She was a better climber than me. We hiked to a bench at the top lookout. She was a better hiker than me. We kissed. We were both good kissers. Kissing takes two. It felt staged. We held each other like we were in a movie. We didn’t want to let go.

I got a new puppy to go along with the new girl. The puppy went everywhere that I went. She grew from eighteen pounds to eighty pounds. She flew under my legs on a dozen flights as an emotional support animal using forged emotional support documents. She would eat a pack of pita bread or half of her bag of dog food if she had the time to get into them. Then her belly would puff up like a balloon, skin wrapped tight to her insides. It was adorable and scary and sweet and sad. She’d eat it all up, and I would have to clean it up when she let it all go.

Me and my girlfriend wanted to move away from LA. We chose San Francisco. I got a job there. I was not writing this blog. She got into grad school there. She wasn’t writing a blog either. I moved to San Francisco, and she would meet me there. Then she decided she didn’t want to. She stayed behind. We broke up. We let it go.

I got a job in finance, in tech. I was as far from my home and as far from my truth as I had ever been in my life. Film school to Hollywood to meditation to design to tech. No wonder I couldn’t remember having a blog. I was far gone from where I’d wanted to go.

I started to write short stories, short films. My therapist made me do it. “Write something shitty”. So I did. It wasn’t terribly shitty. It was average shitty. So I wrote more. I made short films. The first one I threw in the trash, as I was embarrassed one day someone would possibly see it. I made more. I didn’t throw them away. I showed them to people. Some got into festivals, won awards. Small awards, but awards nonetheless. And people didn’t hate them. I wanted to make more. And more.

My siblings all moved back to Philly, to home. “Everyone always comes home,” they say. I stayed in California. Then my brother and his wife were expecting a child. I moved back east for that. Fucking hormones. I moved to Brooklyn. 90 miles from Philly was close enough. And New York seemed as good a place as any to make films. It’s kind of one of New York’s things.

While crashing on couches and trying to land an apartment, I had a friend of a friend watch my dog, the pita-eater, while I got situated. Rather than crashing on couches in tiny apartments with me, she went and lived in a big suburban house with a big suburban yard and another medium suburban dog. They all fell in love with each other. The family offered to keep the pita-eater indefinitely until I found my footing in New York. Or forever. Guilt overwhelmed me, but it felt like the right thing to do. I let her go.

I dated a lot of women. I’ve loved almost all of them but committed to none of them. I have a hard time giving in, and a hard time letting go. I keep those relationships close, in arms reach, without holding them close enough to attach. I feel I am losing something if I let go, even if it is something I do not want. Eventually the lack of commitment and lack of certainty drive them away. Eventually, someone will let go.

My niece was born. I loved her before I met her. She did nothing. She laid where you laid her, cried and ate and couldn’t see for weeks cause her eyes didn’t work cause she was an infant. And I loved her for it. I held her tight and never wanted to let go.

A new respiratory disease spread rapidly from China to Italy to the US. People got nervous. People got sick. People died. We had to stay indoors. We had to stay away from each other. We thought it would be over quickly. It’s still not over. I still wasn’t writing this blog.

I stayed in my apartment for five months alone. I had no one. I learned how to bake bread (I know…) I fostered a dog (I know…). I taught her tricks. She peed on my bed (that wasn’t one of the tricks). She got adopted. I was alone again. I called one of the girls who had let me go. She took me back. She was the first person I touched when we weren’t allowed within six feet of other humans. It felt foreign and normal all at once. Misbehavior and human behavior all at once. Happy and sad, all at once.

“Everyone always comes home”. After six months of loneliness I moved back to Philly. I didn’t know how long it would last, but I had nowhere else to go. I had another niece. I did nothing, but I play hard and act a fool when I see them. I’ll do anything for a reaction. Make silly faces, do silly dances. I didn’t even have to write a blog.

I tried to be social. All my friends are married with kids. Being social means sitting on the floor and picking up blocks and picture books, sharing my hopes to find love and my confusion about my career in between games of Duck, Duck, Goose and Peek-a-boo. I love them. My friends and their kids. I realize we will never be young again the way we were. Untethered, unhinged, unbound. Just me. And the kids. But we can’t do it together. I’ll have to let that go.

I put on a play. It wasn’t a blog, but I wrote it myself. I picked the actors myself. I directed it myself. I enjoyed it myself, but others enjoyed it, too. I know they did cause they told me so and we won an award (Yes I am bragging. Yes I am proud. And yes I have to say it now, cause who knows if it will ever happen again?) It was a practice in Zen. Work hard, make sure everyone does as they are instructed, then watch from the back of the theater as the show unfolds, while you are unable to interfere or interact at all. You have to let go.

I fell in love again. Our first date was at nine in the morning. We got a coffee and went for a long walk. Long enough that at the end of the walk we got another coffee. We didn’t kiss. Later that day I baked her a loaf of bread. When I dropped it off she showed me her house plants. Then we kissed. We feel madly, deeply, grossly in love. I met her family and she met mine. We did all the things. We weaved into a single organism, I told her I was afraid of her, that she had a special power over me. The power was that she could hurt me. She said we had to cherish our connection, our bond. It was special and we had to nurture it. Then the weave got loose and the ends split. We fell apart. Her power came to be. I was let go.

I bounced back. I went on trips, visited friends and family around the country. Got tattoos. Grew my hair out. Grew my beard out. Went to concerts. Lots of concerts. Too many concerts. I’ve been tired a lot. I stopped writing plays. I stopped writing films. I didn’t write this blog.

I don’t sleep very well. Up too late, up too early. I thought it was my mattress but eight mattresses, three general doctors, one physical therapist, one orthopedic, one sports medicine doctor, one voodoo doctor and three types of natural sleeping herbs later I think the mattress isn’t the issue. My brain is the issue.

I am surrounded by babies in my life and the Supreme Court has decided that there will be more. Lots and lots more. Wanted or unwanted. Planned or unplanned. Safe or unsafe. By choice or by force. More babies will come. More women will suffer. More men will shrug it off. More lives will be lost. And it doesn’t matter whether or not I am writing this blog.

I feel lost. Confused. Concerned. What will become of me? Who will I be? What will come next? What is the next human right to be disqualified, the next disease to sweep the lands, the next celebrity crush I will fixate on from two AM to five AM?

What will I be when I grow up? More adults ask themselves than children, it seems. And few know the answers. And as I think about it I think back to things that came naturally. Things that seemed obvious. I want all my friends and family to tell me, “You know I always saw you as a ____”, or “You’d be an amazing _____. And you’d make SO much money from it!”. That’s what I am looking for as I navigate the world around me. The freedom to stop navigating to be guided by others.

I meditated today, away from the city for a weekend to find peace and solitude and not “try” but definitely try to find the answer to the questions I have been asking myself. And I remembered this blog. I remembered Tumblr used to be a thing and I used it. I had to reset my password as there is no way in hell I would have remembered my password from 2011. Probably a fart joke or something. And as I clicked around I saw the last post was called “Year 1”. A year after I had moved to LA.

When I lead people in meditation, I always remind them to focus on their mantra, their breath - whatever it is they are meditating on. If you have meditated before, you know what I am talking about. (If you haven’t, email me and I will charge you $500 for a thirty minute session). And when you meditate, you keep your attention and your awareness on a specific thing for the duration of your meditation. In this example, let’s use “the breath”. I would say, “If you notice your attention drifting away from your breath - whether you’ve lost concentration for ten seconds, or ten minutes - as soon as you notice your attention has shifted, very gently and without judgment, shift your attention back to the breath”.

So here I am. Year 12. And I have not been writing this blog. So I figured I would, for a change, write this blog instead. Because whether my attention has shifted for ten seconds, ten minutes, or ten years, I can very gently and without judgment, shift my attention back.

Person-Who -Made-It would be proud, right? That I kept writing. He’d ignore the fact that my attention had shifted and in the meantime there’d been three different American Presidents, seven Dawes albums (but they are super prolific so maybe not a fair metric), and over a dozen actors playing Colonel Sanders in the KFC commercials.

Out of curiosity, I looked up Person-Who-Made-It on IMDB just now, wondering what they have been up to since they were generous enough to reply to my emails back in 2011, when they were on set directing their first big Hollywood movie. The movie they were working on at the time was released in 2012. That movie remains Person-Who-Made-It’s most recent IMDB credit. Nothing since. I don’t know what they are up to, but if they are actually a fan of this blog, maybe they will see this. And if so, well, I want to give them a piece of advice. Cause we are all a mirror for each other, right?

So, Person-Who-Made-It, “Keep it light. Don’t stop writing. I liked your movie”.

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miekasa · 3 years

Text

bad romance

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genres and warnings: friends with benefits au, friends to lovers au (well i guess that’s open for interpretation lmao), modern au—college au?, explicit smut, mentioned/implied virginity

+ summary: friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school is probably a bad idea. friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school who you’ve also been in love with for the past seven years—all for the purpose of her gaining ‘experience’ so she’s not nervous to do it with some other guy she has a crush on—is probably a really bad idea. levi ackerman is not known to make great decisions.

+ word count: 3.5k

+ notes: truth be told, i don’t even know if i like this; i took this from an outline/draft of a series i’d planned but know i’ll never complete. it’s kind of unedited too heh, also if you’re a minor pls do not interact

Levi doesn’t think anything of it when he finds you on his doorstep on a rainy Saturday evening. It’s very much like you to show up unannounced and attempt to drag him into whatever activity you want to do that day. He’s fairly certain that Hange picked that up from you. Someone should tell her that it doesn’t work so well unless it’s you tugging on his arm sleeve and interrupting his otherwise peaceful evening.

So, for a while, everything is normal. You make fun of him for his use of, admittedly overpriced, organic butter when he toasts you a bagel; he makes jabs at you shuffling around his apartment like a semi-wet chihuahua, and all is right with the world.

Until it’s not. Because half-way into whatever stand-up comedy Netflix special you’d persuaded him into watching with you, Levi’s had enough of your nervous ticking. He doesn’t know if you think that he wouldn’t notice, but he does. And he knows it’s not the result of you still being wet or cold from the rain, seeing as you’ve long since dried off and warmed up.

You’re focused on the show (ironically, focused to a point of distraction), you’ve been twiddling your fingers since it started, and you’ve been fidgety since you stepped foot into his house. Quite frankly, he finds it insulting that you think he wouldn’t know something’s up by now.

So, he bends his knee, turns his body towards yours, lifts his elbow to rest atop the edge of the soft, and presses his cheek into his palm: “Alright, spit it out.”

“Huh?—What do you mean?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes. He looks back at you with unamused, expecting ones.

You crack a nervous smile, attempting to laugh off his command as incredulous, but instead, your voice comes out in what sounds like a pathetic attempt to cover up a lie—probably because it is, “What? Can’t I spend sometime with my favorite, surly psychology student?”

Levi scoffs at your batting eyelashes. The look he throws you seems to do the trick as you drop your facade with a sigh and shift yourself to face him on the couch too, your bent knees almost touching.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” you sigh, hands resting in your lap, “You, um... you know how you said you’d help me with, like, uh... sex and stuff?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. Of course he does. He watches as your eyes dart around the room waiting for his response. It’s cute as heck, and if the topic of conversation at hand weren’t about to get so compromising, he’d have probably teased you about it.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… okay, so, you remember Jean, right? The guy I told you about?”

Levi hums. Yeah, he remembers Jean, but only because you can’t seem to shutup about him, not because he’s particularly memorable otherwise. He seems to be kind of a prick and a huge idiot, if you asked Levi; but, that’s kind of his default impression of most people.

“Jean and I hung out yesterday, and it was normal, you know? We just talked and ordered food and watched a movie,” you rub your palms along the fabric of your yoga pants—another nervous tick he’s been observing, “I don’t know if it was a date or not, because he didn’t say it was, and I don’t want to assume, but Marco keeps saying it was, and that Jean wants to actually ask me out.”

Levi blinks. “And?”

“And if he does ask me out—or even if he just… I don’t know, wants to try something the next time we hang out, I don’t want to look like a complete idiot!”

He refrains from letting a noticeable grimace take over his features; and washes away the unsettling feeling in his stomach with a nonchalant comment, “I doubt he’ll try anything on your first date.”

“But what if it’s not a date! People hang out just to hook up all the time.”

“I thought you wanted to date him?” Levi questions, but his it comes out as more of a deadpan statement.

“I do,” you answer, your response a little delayed and drawn out, “But, I wouldn’t mind just sleeping with him, either.”

“Bold statement from someone who’s never slept with anyone before.”

“Have I told you today that you’re an asshole?” you roll your eyes at him, “Come on, Levi, you know what it’s like to just want someone, but not want them, don’t you? You’ve had one night stands before.”

That’s true, Levi knows it, but it’s different. He wasn’t actively seeking advice from his friends about how to pursue and potentially please his one night stands because none of that mattered—well, the pleasing part, probably, but not the pursuit, or the feelings that came with it. Besides, Levi hasn’t felt the desire for any of that in a long time.

“That’s not the same,” he responds, trying to dismiss the muddy feelings crawling up his throat, “Look, if your Jean guy gets horny when you’re hanging out, just make out with him—make him jizz his pants or something.”

“That’s terrible advice,” you frown, “Plus, he’s probably done that with a million other girls.”

“Probably. Sex tends to repeat a few basic actions here and there.”

“For a psychology student, you sure are a terrible makeshift therapist, do you know that?”

“That’s not even the kind of psychology I study, never mind that I never asked to be your therapist.”

Levi takes great amusement in your huffing and the frustrated pout settling into your features, though he does his best to not let his own smile shine through. It’s probably futile; you can probably see through his facade, anyways.

“I just don’t want to bore him, Levi.”

Any trace of his smile vanishes as those words leave your mouth. Levi doesn’t retain much about this Jean guy you keep going on about, and he doesn’t care to in all honesty—but maybe if he did, he could understand why you’re so hellbent on pleasing the kid.

Levi doesn’t like it, not one single bit. His own feelings for you aside, he doesn’t like how Jean has managed to worm his way into your head and make you think that he’s deserving of any kind of affection from you, whether it be platonic, romantic, or sexual. Because he isn’t; Levi might not know him, but he knows that much.

Still, he sympathizes with you. He understands the pressure of navigating dating and hookup culture, especially in a university setting; never mind the additional expectations set on you as a girl. It’s shitty, all of it; the stupid feelings, the sense of uncertainty, the dumb-ass college pricks. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that.

“You won’t,” is Levi’s simpler response, “Just don’t crush his dick in the process.”

“I wouldn’t do that, fuck you.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve never been the most coordinated person in the world,” he taunts, “If that’s what you came here today to ask me to help you with, it’s fine.”

“Really?—I mean, okay, I know we said that’s okay, and stuff, but I didn’t know if—well I don’t know what’s on the table or not? I do want to do that with you, but I also wanted to know if we could do… more? But I didn’t want to ask for too much and make you uncomfortable! Do we need a lesson-plan of sorts, because I can make—”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Stalling,” Levi tells you, “You know, how when you get all nervous and ramble, then run out of breath or things to say, then get super quiet, and let the conversation die and be awkward again.”

You throw daggers his way with your eyes, and Levi has the audacity to smirk. “Forgive me, it’s not every day I ask my best friend if I can suck his dick for practice.”

“You can,” Levi replies, a little too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “If you want. I don’t mind. As for a lesson plan, that’s weird as shit, so don’t do that.”

“Really? I can?” you question again, an ironic child-like glimmer of joy in your eyes.

Levi chuckles lowly at your enthusiasm—your appreciation is so genuine, he finds it nothing short of adorable. And oddly enough, he’s a little turned on by it, too.

“Yeah,” he nods his head shallowly, “You can.”

You still have that gleam in your eyes, but Levi can feel the hesitation creeping up on you, and offers his guidance before he loses you to a shell of yourself. He shifts over to you just a bit, loosely holding your right wrist in his grip; holding eye-contact, he carefully pulls you up to stand in front of him.

“You can start,” he says, slowly tugging on your wrist, “By getting on your knees and taking off my pants.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, you’re already kneeling in front of him, and the sight is already enough to have Levi semi-hard in his pants; an almost embarrassed flush washing over his body as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s thought about this visual more times than he cares to ever admit.

You fumble with the zipper of his jeans, pulling them, along with his boxers to pool around his ankles. Your actions are careful and calculated, but you seem comfortable—maybe not with your skills, but with Levi.

His eyes stay glued on you, when you finally hold his length with a single hand, the other resting hot on his thigh. He leans over again, this time to rest a comforting hand on the back of your neck, eager to wash away any remains of your nervous resolve.

“Start slow,” he instructs, feeling your thumb swipe along the head, “Just move your hand up and down a bit, like—ah, yeah, like that.”

You seem follow his words carefully, focusing on the way his dick jerks in your hand. Levi observes you carefully and mentally notes that while he’d have liked it, not making out with you before this was probably the right call—he’d probably have creamed his jeans before this could have begun.

“You can grip it harder,” he tells you. You listen, applying slightly more pressure to your grasp; and it makes Levi groan, short, but strangled, above you.

“Okay?” you question, the genuine concern in your voice enough to make Levi’s gaze soften.

“Yeah, that’s—you’re doing good,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the nape of your neck habitually, “Twist your hand a little when you go up, you can—fuck, okay, yeah, that, like that.”

You snap your head up to look at him when he lets a moan slip through; nothing but pure enthusiasm and satisfaction dancing in your eyes. Levi grits his teeth when you do it again, your thumb sliding over the tip when you reach the top of his dick, and, Christ, you’ve got to stop looking at him like that.

You work your way into a steady rhythm, letting Levi’s moans guide your movements. You feel him harden to full length under your touch; and when he does, you move your hand faster, twisting your wrist around the length and squeezing just a pinch harder at the tip, without instruction.

He watches through lidded eyes, using his thumb to press lightly into the back of your neck. You move your free hand from his thighs, eager to add it to the mix, but Levi freezes.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head.

It prompts you to stop your actions, tilt your head and look up at him, and Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so sinful. Your complete focus on him, neck craned obediently, eyes twinkling under your lashes; your position makes him want to kiss you or choke you or something in between.

“What—did I do something wrong?” you ask with wide and innocent eyes that make Levi feel bad for worrying you, yet send an erotic pulse throughout his body.

“Not at all,” he reassures you, fingers treading into the hair at your nape.

He’s setting himself up for failure, and he knows it, too—because, really, who agrees to teach a friend how to suck dick? Having you on your knees in front him, crane into his touch, and keen to all his desires, does nothing to mask the painful fire in the pit of his stomach.

It’s stupid to be this hungry, this possessive over you when he knows you come to him in hopes to learning how to please another man. But one, precious thought is enough to cloud over all of that, enough to put that sadistic smirk back on his face.

“You said you wanted to give me a blowjob, right?” he questions, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at the shallow nod of your head, “Okay. Open your mouth for me, yeah?”

He barely pushes the tip past your lips when your head dips forward, tongue peeking out to lick the very top. Levi sucks in sharp air between his teeth, relaxing into the couch when your head bobs further, enclosing the tip of his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice hoarse when his hardened cock rests against the velvet wet of your tongue, “That’s it—just keep going, like that.”

He watches intensely as your head bobs onto him. It’s hot and wet and so much more than he’d imagined it would be; and he’s not too shy to admit he’s imagined this with you. He moves his hand to brush away the flyaways of your hair, smoothing them back and tangling his fingers at the back of your head. He carefully guides your movements.

It’s slow and steady, and normally, it’d take him a while to cum like this, but with the visual of having you on your knees for him, Levi can feel a faint warmth of his orgasm already beginning to bubble inside of him.

“This is okay, right?” you pull back, a thin line of spit trailing from your mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he answers immediately, unaware of his tightening grasp on your hair.

With a shy smile, you continue, taking more of him this time and carefully gauging his reactions. You move your head further down, testing your own limits, until you feel like you’re choking. You pull back again, with an embarrassed cough.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says softly, rubbing soothing circles into your neck with his fingers, “Guys can’t actually tell the difference between a regular blowjob and being deep throated, no need to choke yourself.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, resting you bum against your heels.

“You seem so surprised.”

“That’s just so… disappointing,” you crinkle your nose, “Men and porn make deep-throating seem like the end all be all of giving head.”

Levi chuckles in genuine amusement, “Well, it’s not, trust me. If any guy insists on being deep-throated just to cum, he’s a fucking liar. He’s getting off on the submission, not the actual feeling.”

“The submission?”

“Getting someone to be willing to listen to them, telling them what to do, how to please them,” he shrugs, “Makes you feel like you’re in control.”

“And that… that works?”

“Yeah,” Levi says, “But, judging by the tone of your voice, and how willing you were to suck my dick three seconds ago, I’d say the idea of being dominant doesn’t really appeal to you.”

You scrunch your nose again, “Does it appeal to you?”

Levi pauses, thinking over his answer, before giving you a simple, “Yeah. Most of the time.”

“Oh,” you hum, “I… I don’t think I’d like that. I think I’d rather be told what to do, seeing as I don’t really know what I’m doing, anyways.”

“Ironic, considering you’ve never once listened anything I tell you do.”

“I was listening when you told me how to suck your dick,” you correct him, “You seemed to enjoy that.”

Levi pauses with a raised eyebrow. You don’t seem to back down, that matter-of-fact smirk on your face still mocking him. He leans over slowly, using his right hand to guide your head closer to him, and uses his left hand to grab your jaw between his fingers.

“You can be such a fucking brat, you know that,” he all but whispers, pursing your lips together in his hold, “Since you like listening to me so much, then shut up, and we can finish what you started.”

You blink, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression. He’s right that under any other circumstance you’d probably run your mouth off about him telling you what to do. But something about the way he knows what he wants and tells how he wants it makes you listen without an argument.

You nod, slowly wrapping your lips around the tip again, and bobbing along his length. Levi’s breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks slightly, a rough hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

“You’re really—god, okay, you’re good at this, you know,” Levi praises you, letting his right hand resume its position at the back of your neck.

If you had any doubts before about being submissive, the look on Levi’s face seemed to have wiped them away. Watching him throw his head back, his fingers gripping at your nape, his cock in your mouth—pleasing him seemed to be enough to please you, too.

“I wanna make you cum, Levi,” you voice your thoughts, letting a hand lazily jerk him off in the mean time, “Tell me what I have to do to make you cum.”

“If you keep going, I’ll cum,” he answers too quickly, a groan slipping through his words, “Trust me.”

“Come on, Levi,” you push, rolling your thumb over the slit of his dick. It makes him inhale sharply; you’re getting a little too good at that; at all of this. “Can—I mean, do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Shit, shit. Don’t say shit like that,” he curses, blunt nails raking and scraping at your scalp, “You don’t have to—I can just—”

“I want you to,” you tell him earnestly, “Please?”

Fuck, he was pretty fucking certain he’d told you to stop saying shit like that. Levi bites the inside of his cheek, paces himself; uses both of his hands to hold your head gently, while you use yours to wrap around his cock.

He grunts with a shake, and rolls his hips up, pushing himself further into your mouth, but not so much as to hurt you. It’s soon after that hot strophes of cum wet your tongue, and Levi lets you lazily jerk him off until you’ve milked his orgasm.

The room is silent save for his low moans and the squeaking of his thighs against the leather couch. When he’s finished, he slouches back, looking at you through hooded eyes, sweaty and panting, when you close your mouth and swallow.

You use your fingers to collect any remaining cum from his softening cock, and hum contented as you put your fingers in your mouth. Levi locks eyes with you again, cheeks flushed as you pull your digits out of your mouth, and he has to grip at his own thigh to gain the self-control to not get hard again.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him some day.

He shakes his head when you move backwards with a cute smile and pulls his boxers up, then his pants as best his can, not bothering to zip them up. When he’s done, you stand to your feet then straddle him on the couch, laughing lowly at his post-orgasm haze.

He doesn’t think twice about the way your hands clasp at the back of his neck, or the way his find their way to rest on your hips. You grab ahold of his jaw with both hands, holding his face in place. He thinks you’re going to lean in, but you don’t; just stay like that, your eyes roaming his glassy eyes.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me all day?” he questions, lips pulled into a knowing grin.

“Can I?” your question makes him frown in confusion, “Dunno, I heard some guys don’t like that after getting head.”

“Bunch a fuckin pussies,” he grumbles, leaning forward to close the gap between your mouths. He can feel you smile into it, and mimics your grin when you begin to press short, repeated kisses against his lips.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

He laughs when you continue to press quick kisses on his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You kiss him on the cheek, wet and dramatic. “Love you, Levi.”

Your face is right in front of his, but he averts his gaze, a different kind go warmth spreading throughout his chest when you flash a smile at him. He lets you kiss him again, longer this time, but still slow and sweet. He likes the feeling of you resting against him, affection lingering on your tongue when you kiss him.

It’s dangerous, but he likes the way you spark a fire in him. Sweet or sinful, it makes him feel boneless, wanted, loved.

Levi leans forward, rubbing his hands up your sides, and captures your lips in another languid kiss before pulling away to peck the corner of your mouth. “Love you, too.”

And he means it of course, but if Levi thought he had it bad before, he’s in deep shit now.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #eren x reader

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that.

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

Can you write a pure angst, using 10 and 35 please ( Idc about the characters ) :)

Getting hurt with the haikyu boys part 3 (Iwaizumi)

Part one Part Two Part three

Word count: 2.8K

Genre: pure angst

Authors Note: I am sorry for just how shit it is lol. I had an idea and it kind of got worse as it went along but I hope you like it anyways.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant before you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

Iwaizumi first approached you at your job, some shitty dinner that only paid you enough so you can make ends meet. You could tell he had money, the way he dressed, his demeanor even the way he talked. ‘What was a man like this doing here?’ you thought.

Apparently, he’s seen you around for a while, your city was small you’d only really leave this place if you had a fair god mother or died and of course you are clearly alive and don’t have a fairy god mother...until you met him.

He ordered a coffee, didn’t drink it though (probably knowing that your boss spat it in whenever he was in a bad mood or because he just needed an excuse to be around) just waiting for you to finish your break. You sat in a corner booth for ‘privacy,’ not that anybody was even in the place.

“My names Iwaizumi Hajime” he said keeping a blank facial expression

“What do you wan-”

“Miss L/N, I think I’ll do the talking here. Okay?” he said with a smirk appearing on his face after seeing your slightly shocked face when he revealed knowing your last name.

“I’ve seen you around for a while now, you’re beautiful you know that right?” he said making your cheeks heat up a bit. “Anyways, I think you’re gorgeous and a man like me needs a pretty girl like you on his arms. By the lack of response to my name, I assume you don’t know who I am...but I guess that works in my favour”

Your face is getting bored by the second not really listening as he rambles on about himself, “I need you to be on my arm every night that I go out to one of my boring business meetings.”

“Business meetings?” you ask

“You know, a bunch of ‘business’ people go out and talk ‘business’ together.” he said sarcastically as if you were stupid.

“I know that, I just thought you’d elaborate about it.” You sighed “What do I get out of this?”

“Finally, you’ve gotten to the interesting part, you my dear get money and lots of It” he says finally catching your attention “I’ll pay you 1 million Yen per night, and all your dresses, outfits and expenses will be paid for so you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about finances again” he ‘smiled’ at you.

“What's the catch?” squinting your eyes

“The catch is just that you have to accompany me to all my events.... and you have to stay in my condo.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry dear, it’s a nice place” interrupting you “probably better than any shithole you live in”

“Fine, fine” his words were convincing you “Is there a contract you have for me to sign?” you ask wanting to at least be somewhat ‘protected.’

“No contract, just this verbal agreement. Between me and you right here right now.” he winked “so you’re in agreement of our arrangement?”

“Yes.”

That was your first mistake believing Iwaizumi Hajime.

Sure you could defend yourself now and say ‘I was poor and in need of help’ but you’d know it would just be you in denial talking.

The first time you attended a meeting with Iwaizumi, you came home from quitting your job since Iwaizumi said ‘you’re on my payroll now.’ You found a beautiful red dress laying on your bed accompanied with shoes and accessories and note saying, ‘I trust you to be able to do your own hair and make up my dear – I.H’

You didn’t have any family, or any friends. Most people that have had even a single encounter with you have deemed you to be ‘Not Likeable’ saying you’re not a people person or just lack any sociability. You were stuck in this town because of the debt your father has left you in before he supposedly ‘passed’ away. Leaving you drowning in all his financial woes, meaning you couldn’t go to university or become a professional *insert dream job here* like you wanted to be.

When you exited your building, you saw Iwaizumi leaning against a flashy car parked outside. “You chariot awaits m’lady” he says with a cheeky grin on his face making you roll your eyes. You got in the car and he started driving, humming along to a random song slightly agitating you.

“So, when are you moving to my place? It’s a part of the agreement.” he said in a sing song voice in the tune of what he was humming.

Iwaizumi reminded you of JD from heathers, he was nice when he wanted but he did have a screw loose that was triggered when things didn’t go his way. Like a small child who didn’t get the toy he wanted when he had a million other toys.

Him being the child. You being the toy.

“Our agreement is bullshit, just verbal.” you say mockingly “remember?”

“don’t start with me Y/N I'm not in a pleasant mood today” he says gritting his teeth “and I don’t need you fucking with me tonight.”

He puts his hand on your thigh, a little too harshly making you internally wince. “Okay here’s the rules for the night. You stay on my side for the night, only speak when spoken too, don’t drink too much since no one likes an alcoholic of course.”

“Oh, so all I need to do is sit pretty like a good little girl.” you say sarcastically

“Precisely” he lessens the grip on your thigh making you breathe in relief.

The event was boring to say the least, you did as Iwaizumi said stood next to him with a fake smile plastered on your face all through the night. You’re sure that people did ask you questions, but you were in your own little world only stepping out of it when Iwaizumi either pinched your arm or gripped your thigh.

The end of the night was ‘eventful’ to say the least, before you entered the car a hand wrapped around your waist and you were pulled into a back alley. “We couldn’t end the night so boring, could we?” it was Iwaizumi, of course it was.

He started peppering your neck with kisses and roaming his hands all over your body. He eventually trailed the kisses from your neck to your lips, leading you both into a full blown make out session. It was fast and you couldn’t really think straight. Iwaizumi was getting a bit too forceful, gripping and kissing harder than he needed to, leaving marks as if to say ‘you’re mine now.’

That was your second mistake. Getting sexual with Iwaizumi Hajime.

He said you had to go back to his house which was basically now yours. You complied, obviously had no other choice since he didn’t offer or ask. He told you too.

Waking up in the Iwaizumi residence was an ‘experience.’ Iwaizumi wanted you awake when he was awake and asleep when he was, never giving you a moment too yourself. You swiftly came to the learn of the reason why he wanted you in his ‘care’ (as he called it anyways) he wanted his eyes on you all the time.

You carried on attending the events bored out of your mind and the nights went the same way. Fancy dress, long car ride, not paying attention, getting fucked in the back alley then sleep in Iwaizumi’s expensive silk sheets.

You didn’t know much about Iwaizumi besides what you could find. In the day time, Iwaizumi spends it cooped up in his office whilst giving you the ‘permission’ to roam around the house. Iwaizumi kept all his important stuff in a small box under a creepy floorboard in his basement original idea I know. All the information in there was just stuff about generic stuff about his childhood. Him being brought up into wealth, how much he weighed as a baby and all the allergies and boring shit that he had.

Iwaizumi Hajime was an enigma.

You and Iwaizumi did get along. Sometimes. You did do things that weren’t strictly fucking and going to business meetings. He took you on what you could only be able to describe as dates, and outings showing you off to all his actual friends. That’s when you learnt the difference of the ‘two’ men, Iwaizumi and Hajime.

Although they were the same person by name, Iwaizumi was rough around the edges and cold at heart not caring about you at all. Hajime, whilst still being rough around the edges, basically made you out to be his girlfriend giving you the love and care you needed. You really liked the times when you were with Hajime.

That was your third mistake, falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

As things progressed, your quality of life seemed to dwindle (not that it was great in the first place.) Iwaizumi was barely in the house, claiming that for these particular ‘business meetings’ he didn’t need you.

On one night, a simple phone call definitely changed your whole dynamic.

“Yes babe, I’m coming over tomorrow I can’t wait to see you and the girls again.” he said to the other person on the phone.

“Why do you question my love for you, of course I love you.” he said again

“I love you, the girls even the dumb dog that Haru forced me to get for her 8th birthday I love. You guys are my family. My lovely wife and out girls”

Your stomach churned, you backed out of the hallway that you were in. He had a family, of course he had a family. You went into the guest room, where you kept all your things, you couldn’t do this anymore. Although you pretty much lost all your morals when you formed this whole agreement but you refuse to sleep with a married man with kids. You couldn’t. Being the reason why a family might break up is something you wouldn’t ever do.

Iwaizumi heard all your commotion and entered the guess “Woah darling who’s moving out?” he asked jokingly

“Hmm probably your wife and kids, after they realise their husband is a CHEATER!” you spat

“Woah, woah Y/N” he said getting closer to you “You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about”

“I think I know pretty well; you’ve always been a pompous ass Iwaizumi; it was my bad for thinking that you weren’t married throughout all of this.” You finished packing up as much close as you possible can and headed out the room.

“You need to watch your mouth Y/N” he says aggressively

“Or what Iwaizumi, or should I say Hajime” you shout “Or is that only reserved for your WIFE!”

This seem to really tick him off, “You don’t know anything Y/N, you really think I could love a dirty slut like you? Huh? Well, I didn’t know that you were important enough to be able to know the details of my personal life.”

“I'm not a slut” you mumbled. Which was completely true, Iwaizumi didn’t notice that the first time you slept together was the first time that you slept with anyone.

“repeat that again for me y/n?” he said mockingly

“IM NOT A SLUT!” you shout in his face

“You are what I say you are darling”

“Fuck you.” You try and push past him hard, to get out the house but you’re no match against his anger and brute strength. So, when he slams you against the wall, he banging your head. Leaving you concussed and bleeding. Before you completely pass out all you hear is a repetition of Iwaizumi Hajime murmuring “I'm sorry, I’m sorry” whilst wrapping his arms around your comatose body.

You woke up, thinking that was all a dream but the ache in the back of your head proved otherwise.

“Y/N, darling your awake!” he said making you flinch

You moved away from him when he sat on your bed looking at you with ‘love’ and ‘care’ in his eyes. He goes to stroke your cheek whispering “you’re so be-”

“Fuck off” you say. That bang to the head was a wakeup call literally reminding you of all the hot and cold moments you had with Iwaizumi that you submerged into your head for the sole reason of ‘wanting to be happy.’ But you weren’t happy. Deep down you knew that.

“But y/n, darling I love you.” he said and you closed your eyes shut wanting to tune him out “I love you Y/N.”

“You don’t" you replied back harshly with your eyes still shut tightly

“But I do Y/N, I love you” he repeated the ‘I love you’s’ over and over making you want to scream out in frustation.

“Shut up!” you yelled “You don’t love me, stop saying that” your head throbbing with every word “Just stop. Make it stop! Kill me if you have to! Just make it stop” you say thumping at Iwaizumi’s chest becoming a hysterical crying mess. You weren’t talking about the physical paint he caused you (even though that hurt ALOT) you were talking about the constant heartache it was just being around him.

He didn’t know what to do. So, he just put his arms round you again and you yelled your frustrations about him to him into his chest.

You woke up into a new place, not your old one or Iwaizumis just something brand new.

With a note on your bed side table saying:

‘I love you and I’m sorry’

Making you tear it up and toss it out.

You had no further contact with Iwaizumi, you figured that the new house you lived in was already paid for, but you didn’t want Iwaizumi to show up one day saying that you owed him money so you decided to get a job. A small one, that didn’t require any strenuous Labour or heavy shift times.

It was a few weeks after Iwaizumi left you and you felt sick and heartbroken. After finishing your shift at your job you felt hot headed and extremely ill making you run to your toilet to spill out your guts.

Which lead you to your predicament now.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant befonhre you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

You didn’t know what to do. There was only thing you could do, but you certainly didn’t want that. ‘Call him’ the voice in your head urged. ‘That would be the best option right?’ you thought ‘I mean he did love you afterall...’

It took a whole day of pacing around and wondering on what you should do. But you knew that leaving the situation longer would only make it worse. So you kept his business card on you when he gave it to you since that was the only phone number you had. He was all you actually had.

You called and the phone rang 4 times, your heart beating faster and faster as it rang.

“He-”

“Hello this is Sakura Iwaizumi speaking” a feminine voice said “Who is calling?” you hear someone say in the background. ‘Iwaizumi’ you thought, your face smiling. You realised you haven’t responded so you rushed out

“I’m Y/N L/N, I need to speak with Iwaizumi.”

“Haji dear, there's a girl on the phone for you... someone of the name called Y/N L/N”

You heard muffles in the background and Iwaizumi saying “Just hang up the phone she’s not worth it.” Your heart stung ‘She’s not worth it.’ Did he really mean that? As much as you claim to hate him, you didn’t really. As you’ve said before you always liked his loving and caring side over his cold hearted one.

You put the phone down and just cried, wailing your heart out for him. Why? You don’t really know to be honest. This was all a dumb agreement, he used you because he was bored and he probably already knew you were pregnant from when he gave you that concussion. But ‘he doesn’t want you’ you reminded yourself because ‘I’m not worth it.’

AUTHORS NOTE: once again, i’m sorry lol. But im most likely going to do a part two of my ‘long shot’ series with Akaashi or a character of your choosing.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi headcanons #signedwithane😌

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aweecrush · 2 years

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FOUR MONTHS, or what happens between President Clinton's visit to Derry on November 30th, 1995 and Erin and Orla's isolation tape recorded on March 30th, 1996.

November 30th, 1995

Erin feels like shit.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. On the contrary: today was supposed to be grand. Today, the world was watching their little Derry for something actually good for once. Today, they were supposed to play truant and be on the front row of History. Today, she was supposed to meet Chelsea, take her to Lisnagelvin swimming pool, become best mates and spend her next summer getting tanned in the White House gardens. That was easy enough, really.

But life always had to be unfair, hadn’t it, and instead, all she got was her freaking heart broken. Why could things never go her way?

It could have been worse, of course - much worse. He could have gone for good. Could have chosen his mum, London. A life away from them.

She’s very much aware that it could have been worse, and that she should be celebrating right now, take another shot with Michelle and join Clare and Orla’s senseless dance. She will, really. It’s just -

Today, James had told them he decided to leave Derry and go back to his real life, and even though he stayed - thank Jesus he stayed - it still stung. Hurt, really. She’s not actually sure anything’s ever hurt this bad before.

Because he really did consider it, for one. “This was always gonna happen. This was never my real life, it was just - something that got in the way of it,” he’d said. He’d never even loved it here. “I just think I developed Stockholm syndrome.”

All this time, he was just suffering through, waiting and hoping to go back home - his real home.

And it made sense, really. She couldn’t even be mad at him, because it did. They were always so mean to him - always making fun of him, always reminding him how he was English, too much of this, not enough of that. She knew she wasn’t the worst of the group, but it was no excuse. She did tease, too, and she certainly didn’t stop Michelle, even when she thought it was a bit too much, even when she would catch a glimpse of the hurt on his face, and wish Michelle would just stop and leave him alone.

Sure, they love him - sure, he got that now, didn’t hold back any grudges. Still. His words did come from somewhere. He’d felt excluded - sad. He was always so sweet, so soft, still is, and they just made him feel like he didn’t belong. She may judge his mother for how awful she was to him - hate her, really - but the truth is, they aren't much better.

They should have been more supportive, more accepting. She should have been less of a God damn dick. Even being half as kind as he was would have been something - that’d still have been much, much better than how they had treated him for the past year and a half. There’ll always be teasing - he is English, after all - but they should have been more careful about letting him know that in truth, it didn’t matter. That he’s one of them anyway.

He does belong. In Derry, at Lady’s Immaculate - with them. He’s part of them, such an important one, and she can’t imagine life without him. She doesn’t want to.

That’s the second thing, of course. It’s funny to think that not so long ago, she was eyeing down the strange fella with a weird accent trailing behind Michelle, barely remembering his name, and now, her heart had just shattered at the thought of not seeing him every day.

Erin’s aware that she tends to be over dramatic - her Ma always loves to ramble on about it, even though really, she’s one to talk. Everyone does, and even though she would never admit it, she knows it’s true.

But this time, it really was how she felt: in a second, it felt like her heart shattered into a million, tiny pieces. And then, it had hurt, really hurt, until she turned and saw him, his huge grin visible in the distance. Even more beautiful up close, when they finally got to hug him as tight as they could.

She’d always loved his smile.

(The truth is, he may not have considered this his real life, not until now, but it is to her - real, her life, and he’s part of it.)

“Feck, I’m gonna boke!”

Suddenly pulled out from her own thoughts, Erin looks up just in time to see a very green, very hasty looking Michelle running past her and into her wee garden, the November air making its way through the house as she opens the back door. Chuckling, Erins downs her glass of water, and moves to join her.

In a very rare, very uncharacteristic moment of generosity that could have only resulted from both peace and her nephew deciding to stay on the very same day, Deirdre had accepted to leave them the house that night while her and Martin were on night shifts.

There’s no doubt in the world that she’s going to regret that decision in the morning.

Erin walks through the door just in time to hear the lovely, too familiar sound of Michelle emptying her stomach.

“For the love of - ”

“Well, so much for those flowers auntie Deirdre wanted to grow, huh.”

She startles a little, and James smiles apologetically.

She snorts. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say she won’t be seeing any in that particular spot soon,” and they both wince as another God awful sound comes from Michelle. “God, but how much did she have to drink?”

“She’s done even better - well worse, really - than at that party last summer. Didn’t think that was possible.”

They both laugh at the memory (she’d honest to God thought they were going to have to go to a hospital, the girl was so drunk), and there’s a couple beats before he speaks again.

When he does, his voice is soft.

“Are you alright?”

Erin turns to look back at him, and James’ smiling at what must be the look on her face. “You looked a bit lost in thought there.”

She waves it off. “I’m fine. It was just - kind of a big day, you know.”

“Yeah.” She swears she can hear a tinge of sadness in his voice, even sees it on his face in the moonlighted night. Then - “But it turned out pretty well in the end, right?”

In the darkness, Erin grins back at him. She’s so happy, so relieved, her insides feel all warm despite the chilly air.

“It did. I mean, we did get to see Bill, so,” and just like that, he’s laughing.

Not far, Michelle keeps throwing up, there’s still party noises from the street in the distance, Orla and Clare are butchering ABBA, and as she looks at him, head thrown back, eyes crinkled and slightly drunk, she realizes it’s all quite perfect.

“Shame about Chelsea, though,” he eventually smirks.

She shrugs, playing along. “Nah, it’s for the best. The band is good as it is, we don’t need her.”

At that moment, Michelle straddles back towards them, all proud and confident. “All good folks, let’s - ”

She turns white so fast, it’s almost comical. “No, not good!”

A couple of seconds later, and she’s barfing in her mother’s flowers again, and Erin chuckles as James rolls his eyes, and takes advantage of his worried focus on his cousin to take him in. The mess of curls on his head, the line of his nose - the sharp angle of his jaw.

She only hesitates for a second before speaking again.

“I’m sorry about your mum.” He looks back from Michelle and at her, his concerned yet amused expression slightly falling. “I mean, we don’t have to talk about it or anything, I’m just - I’m guessing it wasn’t easy, saying goodbye again.”

He snorts, although there’s no bitterness to it. Not towards her, at least.

“There wasn't actually any goodbye the first time, remember.” He’s quiet for a bit, and she’s starting to kick herself for ruining the night for him when he speaks again. “I asked her if she would consider staying.”

He stops there. He doesn’t need to say more for her to guess the answer, anyway.

“I’m really sorry, James.”

His smile is soft - always so soft.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“No, I mean - Not just for that,” and he frowns. “About us. About how mean we’ve been to you since you’ve arrived,” she adds at his questioning look. “We’ve been real shite.”

“It’s okay - ”

“No, it’s not. It’s really not.” She huffs, annoyed at herself again. Annoyed that she can even apologize correctly. “We were such arseholes, and we’ve treated you badly when the truth is, we would have been miserable if you left.” She certainly would have.

She can’t meet his eyes for some reason, and she can feel the awful thing in her belly as the images of him turning back in the ground come back.

Her voice is not as steady as she would want it to be, but she goes on anyway. “You’re one of us. And - ”

I’m so glad you stayed. “And we’ll make sure damn sure you don’t regret your decision.”

He doesn’t say anything, not at first. When she looks back up at him a second later, the look on his face makes her heart jumps.

And then, there’s that smile again. “I know.”

For the briefest moment, James looks like he’s about to say something else, green eyes dazed and lips slightly parted - but before he can, two arms are hanging over their necks, and turning them back inside.

“Alright - let’s party, motherfuckers!”

December 1st, 1995

“Dear James,

It feels a bit strange writing this. Even though I’ll probably never actually show it to you. But it felt important that...I don’t know...that I had it on record or something.

The fact is I can’t imagine this place without you. I don’t want to imagine it. We’re better off for having you there...at least I know I am. You’re one of my best friends in the whole world, and if you were ever to leave, I’d miss you. I’d really miss you. So please...don’t try anything like that again.

Erin xxx ”

December 8th, 1995

Things are back to normal.

They hang out, study way too late and mess up a geography exam, sing Take That far too loud and get a scolding from her Ma because of it (she’s still not completely over the concert incident yet). It’s all as it’s always been, except there’s peace too, now. Hope.

In the change department, Erin can’t help but notice the way Michelle’s teasing towards her cousin is a little softer now - or at least, more and more followed by a smile, or a friendly punch, and she’s glad. She knows James notices too, and how happy it makes him. It warms her heart a little, seeing him like that.

Things are good again. Better, even.

December 13th, 1995

James seems a bit down today, and Erin is terrified that this is it - that he’s regretting his decision, and considering moving again. She’s been thinking about him lately, what with the big scare he gave them and all, and there’s always that fear that goes with it, the one that never really went away.

She feels sick all morning.

But then, at lunch, Michelle tells them: his mum (his stupid, stupid mum) found an excuse not to see him at Christmas or New Year, apparently mad at him for not helping with her business. She adds a few colorful words to express how she feels about her aunt and her shitty attitude. Erin agrees with every one of them.

That day, Clare gives James her Mars bar and asks him about Doctor Who, Orla keeps jumping on him to hug him for no apparent reason. Erin does her best to make him laugh, and it feels like winning the lottery every time that he does. Even her Ma agrees to a sleepover, even though it’s the middle of the week.

She’s always had a soft spot for James.

The lights have long gone out in her room when his voice rises into her dark bedroom. “Thanks for today, girls.”

Since they were little, Michelle had that habit of speaking out and claiming she’s expressing the group’s collective opinion, when ninety-eight percent of the time, it was actually the very opposite of what the rest of them were thinking.

This time, though, she aims right.

“Anytime, dickhead.”

Staring at his form laying next to her side of the bed on the floor, Erin slowly starts to fall asleep, a warm feeling spreading in her belly - then drifts off completely in a second.

December 20th, 1995

Jumping down the stairs two at a time, she swears under her breath, throwing herself into the living room. “Has anyone seen my wallet?” she tries, eyes already scanning every corner.

For the love of -

“Where are you off to, love?”

“You remember - I told Mammy yesterday at dinner,” she explains distractedly, looking through the pile of aunt Sarah’s stuff on the table. “I’m going to Deirdre’s.”

“You never listen, do you - bloody eejit,” Granda mumbles, eyes never leaving his newspaper.

Rolling his own eyes, her Da turns his attention back to her. “Didn’t Michelle just leave fifteen minutes ago?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to see James - we’ve got an assignment together,” and he frowns.

“What happened to ‘rule number one is to always get paired up with Clare on projects, even if she’s completely mental when it comes to homework ’?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t know - I’m just doing it with James this time.”

Finally putting her hand on the damn thing, Erin throws her jacket on and slides her wallet in her pocket. “He’s just as smart as Clare, anyway. Don’t wait up, we’re going to the movies afterwards.”

“All of you?”

“No: Clare’s got a family thing, Michelle’s on a date with some fella, and Orla - well, I don’t actually know what Orla’s up to, but I’m not sure I want to, to be honest,” she deadpans, making a face.

“Just you and James then."

"Aye. Also, tell Mammy I'll clean my room later, I'm running late so I am, and - ”

"Wasn’t it just the two of you like that as well? You know, when you went to the movies last week?”

Erin eventually looks up, stopping mid movement to grab her snack. Her Da has a small smile on his face now, and she’s not sure why she feels her cheeks redden a little. Why she starts panicking stupidly at the way they’re both staring at her all of the sudden, equally stupidly.

She hasn’t even noticed it was just her and James. Well, she has - obviously she has, but it just happened: it’s not like they intentionally kept the others out of the loop and planned it to be just them or anything.

They had started doing more things just the two of them recently, she supposes, a couple of times. True, it’s not really something they'd done before, but they’d hung out a lot the night of the prom, and it was loads of fun. It was nice, being with him - it is.

Surrounded by mouths like them, he’d often push himself in a corner quietly, but it always had been - James is funny, and soft, and he doesn’t make fun of her all the time like the others did. He actually listens too, when you speak to him, his green eyes all focused with his well-inherited eyebrows all scrunched up, and whenever he speaks, it feels a little - soothing.

She’d noticed that about him before. How nice his voice sounds, and how nice his smiles feel. How whenever it gets a little too loud, or too much, it's nice to be standing next to him. She had noticed, but she’d never really realized it, if that makes sense - not before they thought he was going away forever.

Ach, she really doesn’t like thinking about that day.

Grabbing her bag of crisps, Erin shrugs again, doing everything in her power to avoid Granda’s eyes even though she's not even sure why.

“It was, yeah. Alright, I’m off!”

And before either of them can say anything more, Erin closes the door shut behind her, and heads down the street.

December 26th, 1995

“I don’t understand why our names have to stay secret.”

“Because it’s called Secret Santa, for feck’s sake!”

“But the secret is before the gift! It’s supposed to remain a secret before you offer your present, that makes sense, but not after - how would we thank the person who got us otherwise?”

Rolling her eyes at Clare, Michelle throws herself on Granda’s chair, legs hanging over the side.

“Well, maybe you won’t want to know who got you - maybe you’ll have a shitty gift, you’ll hate the sucker who got it, and he or she will be more than happy to remain anonymous.”

Fear in her eyes, Clare stares. “Please tell me you didn't get my name Michelle.”

“I’m not telling you!”

“How about we try and guess the person who got us when we open the gift?”

She doesn't say this a lot about her cousin, but God, thanks Jesus for Orla - the screaming was seriously starting to give her a headache at that point.

“Perfect! Alright, you go first Orla."

Giddy, the girl all but throws herself at the package with her name on it (carefully written in a non-recognizable way, just like everyone else’s, of course) under the tree, stars in her eyes when she discovers tons and tons of chocolate in different colors and shapes.

Of course, she immediately starts gulping them down, completely forgetting to try and guess who got her, which Michelle doesn’t seem to mind, given the way she starts bragging how she’s the hottest and best Secret Santa in the whole damn town, just like she planned.

Next, Clare opens her earrings and cute scrunchy, and Erin can feel herself grin back when she squeals at how cute they are, and immediately guesses that it was her.

As soon as James opens his, his eyes go wide.

“Orla, this is so cool!”

Aye but it is: on the front of a little, handmade booklet, she’s drawn the cover of ‘The nice wee alien’, the story of an alien who arrives at Derry and is taken aback by the town, its habitants and their ways. Given the few pages that they see, both the story and adventures of said alien are completely mental, of course, but she has to give it to the girl: it’s brilliant. So sweet, too. James’ grin is taking half of his face now. It suits him.

The gifts are to be forgotten for a moment when her Ma gets in with a crying Anna in her arms, and bags for them to carry before putting the groceries away, which franckly, Erin could have done without.

(“Enough with the eye rolling Erin, or I swear to Christ!”)

But as soon as she unwraps the carefully folded paper over her own gift, all signs of remaining annoyance disappear. Inside her belly, it feels like something does a little flip.

Technically, it could be Clare: the way it’s so beautifully wrapped with paper of her favorite color, the nice tag over it. The thought that obviously went into it, the fact that it’s sweet and perfectly dead on, really. She knows it’s not her, though.

She knows exactly who it is.

Legs folded under herself on the floor, Erin looks up directly at James, his comic book still in hand as he smiles at her a little hesitantly, as if trying to read her reaction.

She’d told him about that book a few weeks earlier, now that she thinks about it, but the truth is, she didn’t think he was listening. Well, he was - he’s always listening, the only one of the group who actually pays attention whenever she talks about something she loves or cares about, when Clare and Michelle often nodd absentmindedly at best, waiting for her to finish, and Orla just - well, Orla’s Orla.

She didn’t think he’d remember, though. That he’d go through the trouble of getting it for her, and then go even further.

In her other hand, the small, untouched notebook is beautiful, all hardcover and smooth paper, with an elegant inscription at the top of it.

James shrugs a shoulder, a little sheepish. “I just thought a real writer needed something good to write in. And the book is - well, you know.”

Around them, the girls have started talking again, Anna’s giggling somewhere upstairs. There’s music, too, and yet for a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, there’s that feeling again, and the only thing that goes through her mind is that the Christmas lights are reflecting in the green of his eyes just the right way.

It’s a bit - unsettling. Throwing her off completely, for sure.

“It’s…perfect. Thanks, James.”

Cheeks slightly pink, he grins that way that makes his eyes look extra special, and that has nothing to do with the lightning.

“Of course.”

And then Michelle’s speaking again, and he’s looking away. “Alright now, moment of truth: Erin, hold me my present, let’s see how little Clare did.”

December 31st, 1995 - January 1st, 1996

Erin’s drunk.

Well, she’s not drunk - she’s wasted out of her fecking face. She’s not the only one, though: they all are, and by “they”, she doesn’t just mean the five of them - she’s not sure whether it is the peace, the New Year or both, but the whole town looks and sounds absolutely pissed.

It’s brilliant.

Clare’s been singing her heart out, Orla’s been mixing cartwheels and fancy aerobic steps, Michelle’s beaten the bartender at his own drinking game, and James has been laughing non stop, his eyes crinkling at the corner. The whole night’s been grand, and as they come out of the pub, Erin thinks she’s probably never been this happy. She doesn’t want it to end.

They dance in the street, and they laugh too loud and keep drinking far too much. She’s sure they’re a picture, and knows for a fact that if their mammies see them like them, well, they won’t live to see another day of that new year. It’s still worth it, though.

She’s not sure how they make it to the top of the hill, but they do. Her head is spinning in the most delightful way now, and as they join the song someone a bit further away started, and start dancing along with everyone else around, she can’t for the life of her stop smiling.

James makes her spin a second time, and she lands back against his chest in a soft oof, his hands around her holding her up and his dopey grin still stuck on his face. He’s so close, she can make out every detail of it, despite the darkness and her very, very inebriated state.

“Erin.”

Aye, but she likes it when he says her name.

“Yeah?”

“I - ” For a second, her cloudy mind can swear she feels his heartbeat race a little.

That’s silly, though.

His hand tightens just a little on her hip, and he’s so warm, by the time he finishes his sentence, it feels like it warms her whole body, too.

“I’m very happy I didn’t go.”

#derry girls #jerin #james x erin #erin x james #what happens between Clinton's visit on November 30th 1995 and Erin and Orla's isolation tape recorded on March 30th 1996 basically #because I know Erin's talking about James in that tape (please please please Lisa)#christ i've started this so long ago #i really want to publish all of it before series 3 so i'm getting a move on #hope you'll like it #fanfiction

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hpalways · 3 years

Text

Surprises || Childe

a/n: i swear i’ll get to the requests soon akjdhfjfj sorry for the wait dudes.

BUT YEAHHHHHH ITS CHILDES BIRTHDAY I LOVE U DADDY HAVE A NICE ONE

THROWING a surprise party for Childe was more difficult than one could imagine. He didn't fully admit it, but he was obviously hurt when no one wished him a happy birthday today. And while everyone went on to set the scene for when you would all surprise him, you were given the role to distract him. As the two of you strolled through the streets of Liyue Harbor, his sea blue eyes darted everywhere agitatedly. Repeatedly letting out a sigh, he combed his gloved hand through his ginger locks. You stifled a giggle at his discomfort, sensing that he was too prideful to outwardly question why his birthday wishes were practically nonexistent this year.

He peered at you with disappointment, for he wished to hear those words from you more than anyone else. Wondering if his birthday was really that forgettable, he thought back to the day you asked when his birthday was. The two of you shared the dates and he remembered how elated he was on your birthday, buying gifts and spoiling you with his dirty earned mora. He could still see the grin that was stuck to your face the entire day.

"Thanks for joining me on some errands. I'm almost done," you told him, smiling. Guilt continued to pour into your chest at the sight of him.

He nodded and forced out a smile, coloring his face with his usual facade. "Anything for you, comrade," he chuckled, ruffling your hair in a habit. "I was bored anyway. It almost feels like there should be something important today, but I suppose there's truly nothing."

You wanted to burst out laughing. He was trying so hard to be discreet about it, but you could easily read behind the lines. "Oh? Nah. There's nothing important today."

"Nothing at all?" he responded, voice hollow. "That's strange. Are you sure?"

"I keep all my important dates on my calendar. It was blank for today."

His flingers curled around his shirt, gripping so tightly they shook. You were very organized, but his birthday wasn't on there. Did he mean nothing to you? Did he care for you more than you did him? He was beginning to feel idiotic -- foolish even. Falling silent as he followed you to the next stall, he watched you buy daily groceries, picking out the biggest fish in the pile and bright fruits from the baskets. He numbly carried the bags, groaning to himself. Maybe he should leave the city and hunt down some hilichurls, skewer them so he could release some of his pent up frustration.

While he was lost in his head, too busy thinking about his bottled up emotions, you noticed Hu Tao in the distance, making wide signals. She was dramatic as per usual and you glared at her, urging her to hide within the shadows. Quickly turning away from the merchant, you were relieved to know that Childe had not detect anything suspicious. It was showtime.

"Okay. One more stop," you informed him.

"I... think I should to go," he responded. "I'll drop your bags back home."

Panic seeped into your expression, your eyes growing wide. Oh no -- this couldn't get any worse. You had to stop him before he could leave, because who knew where he would go next? He was such an unpredictable guy, free to roam wherever he liked with that reputation of his. "It's just one more place," you pointed out, knitting your brows together. "Come on, Childe. It will be really quick. Please?" You gave him the best puppy eyes and slipped a hand in his, squeezing it tightly to feel tingles erupt at the contact.

His head leveled slightly at the feeling of your hand, so he slowly nodded. "Fine. But I'll have to go right afterwards. I have some business to do with the Fatui."

That was a lie. The both of you knew that, but Childe didn't want to seem so lame in front of you. He already felt that enough today to last a lifetime.

You pulled him through the crowds of people lingering on the roads beside buildings, making a beeline to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You ignored the furrow of his forehead when he saw the building looming ahead of him. Before he could voice out any inquiries, you pushed the dark oaken doors open, stepping into the darkness. He stayed by your side loyally, his muscles strained, ready to protect you from the weird atmosphere of the room.

The curtains dropped, golden sunlight spilling through the windows to reveal the secret. "Happy birthday Childe!" the entire group called out. There stood in the room were dozens of people, including Teucer, Zhongli, Hu Tao, traveler, Paimon, and fellow Liyue citizens. Tables were set up in the Parlor, banners were hung up on the wall, and food were lined up, including a birthday cake. You turned to look at the red haired man, whose irises took it all in, his mouth parting openly.

"Teucer. You're here!" he gasped, opening his arms wide when his little brother ran up to him. He hugged the boy tenderly, thanking everyone for the throwing the party. They all began to surround Childe, while others mingled and conversed, for the party was starting.

You faded into the background, leaning against the cool wall and feeling grateful that it was a success. It was a lot of work, but with everyone contributing, it went very well, which was a little strange, considering you half expected it to fall apart.

Footsteps sounded, so you turned to the left to see him approaching you. He looked breathless, his cheeks rosy, and his dimples showing. "The party was your idea, wasn't it?" he stated, rather than in question form.

Nodding silently, you took something out from your pockets. "Happy birthday, Childe."

You handed it to him and he took it with a softened expression. Unwrapping the gold, shiny wrapping of the small box, he opened it up to find a keychain in it, blue and twinkling. It was carved into a hydro vision, the details exactly aligned to the vision that sat on his torso.

He kissed you then, crashing his lips upon yours. Hands faltering to the sides, you clenched your fingers around his forgotten present and returned the kiss. He tasted of seasalt and apples, as well as a scent that no doubt came from his homeland. His warmth brushed over to you, spreading through your system and to the tip of your fingers. Your cheeks burned at the contact and your chest pounded, but eventually, you pulled away, embarrassed by the chance of any onlookers.

"There are too many people here," you said, shaking your head, still feeling flustered by the way he looked at you -- as if you were the only thing he could see in this world. He was so unashamed, willing to do anything to grapple at the goal he sought after. He had always been like that. And always will be.

He raised a brow, the corner of his lips curving up mischievously. "Are you suggesting we get out of here and find a vacant room?"

You hit his arm and he pouted, laughing at your reaction. "How rude," you sniffed. "I threw this entire party for you and you're already willing to ditch it. Don't think I'll forget how desperate you were this entire day."

Embarrassed, he averted his gaze from you, scratching his head with an awkward chuckle. "I didn't care for a party, [Y/N]. All I wanted was to hear a birthday wish from you. I was scared you forgot it."

"I would never forget it. Not in a million years."

His cheeks grew red and he seemed content at your answer. Swinging an arm around you, he lugged you towards the food. Then he rambled on and on about something regarding stuffing himself so he could slay a bunch of enemies. Sitting down at a table, he declared a rematch with traveler. On the other end of the table was Zhongli, going on long tangents to the poor victim who was forced to listen in. Hu Tao was scaring off another customer, suggesting deals like the sales woman she was and suddenly talking about the afterlife.

Everyone here was so distinct and peculiar, but in a good way. Grateful to be surrounded by such people, you knew that not a day goes by without an adventure.

"Hey Tuecer," you said to the boy beside you. He was in the middle of playing with Mr. Cyclops, making sound effects with his mouth. "How are you doing, little guy?"

"Hi [Y/N]!" he giggled. "I'm good. Mr. Cyclops is doing good too. He wants to say happy birthday to my big bro too!"

Childe returned from his conversation with traveler and Paimon, on time to ruffle his brother's head like he did with you earlier. "Thank you Mr. Cyclops," he cooed, petting the top of the toy endearingly. You laughed at the scene and he locked eyes with you. "Hey, don't hurt Mr. Cyclops' feelings like that. Right, Teucer?"

"Right," Teucer nodded somberly, growing real serious.

Ugh, these brothers. You rolled your eyes and tossed food into your mouth. Childe's head abruptly dropped to your ear, his breath hovering upon your lobes. You shivered at his close proximity. "I love you, [Y/N]. You know that, right?" he whispered into your ear.

Heart hammering for the millionth time this day, you paused with your chopsticks in the air. "I love you too, dumb birthday boy."

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you-did-well-moon · 3 years

Text

Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count: 2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared.

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty.

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words.

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.

The end of the month was in two weeks.

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building.

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings.

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago.

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago.

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest.

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you.

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut.

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly.

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place.

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue.

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant.

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways.

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something.

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one.

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran.

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?”

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face.

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today.

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears.

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor.

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest.

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”.

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt.

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down.

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand.

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones.

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart.

You felt warm.

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest.

You were scared of it.

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you.

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind.

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered.

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away.

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand.

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone.

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away.

He couldn’t.

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting.

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs.

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself.

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever.

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.

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