#it was especially irking to see every single fucking building i passed while in the bus had big signs showing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs | Tumgik

#it was especially irking to see every single fucking building i passed while in the bus had big signs showing

the-love-i-crave · 1 year

Text

i hate advertisements and marketing so fucking much. i cannot go a few fucking meters without seeing a sign of a tavern, without seeing an ad for a café. theres advertisements on modt buses, theres advertisements on traffic lights. theres advertisements inside of buildings. i hate this

#i was in athens the last few days #spending the last days w my fiance there #and i am frothing at the mouth thinking abt it #it was especially irking to see every single fucking building i passed while in the bus had big signs showing #shit off #i cant do this #evan is talking tag //

2 notes · View notes

bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

Tumblr media

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

244 notes · View notes

fafulous · 4 years

Text

Take Me Home (2/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I dedicate this chapter to my LOML @sinner-as-saint. Happy Birthday Darling! ILY!

Part 1

Tumblr media

Warnings: Small Hints of Abuse.

—

It was your full day shift at the library

You still couldn’t stop thinking about that horrid graffiti left out on Andrew’s Garage door. Why would anyone write something so horrific? It is never a common occurrence to accuse someone of being a murderer; Besides, you didn’t even truly know who the man was.

In one of your breaks while sipping on your hot cocoa, your curiosity got the best of you and googled about him. Those amateur press reporters wouldn’t crowd around a random vandalism; you knew something was up.

To your dismay, you came across terrifying articles of his family. Specifically, about his son.

You read about how Andrew Barber, the Local district attorney of the Newton County was found to be tangled in a murder case because of his son. You didn’t bother to read further for the headlines were awful; described how his 14-year-old son was in trial for the murder of his own classmate.

The details were too horrifying. The press reported every court proceeding but you didn’t proceed to read about what happened. Perhaps his son went to jail? Or he was declared not guilty but was separated from his family? You thought how a good handful of weeks passed and he had absolutely no visitors to his house. Best decision you made was to close the articles for it made you sick to the stomach.

Not only did it feel like you were invading on someone’s privacy, it was also not difficult to picture your son in Jacob Barber’s shoes.

You felt bad for the man, you really did. But then you recalled how he questioned your parenting. It takes years to build self-confidence, but just one statement to shatter it all.

It didn’t feel right reading about your neighbour, it felt like you were a stalker. And so, you resumed to stock up and label the new pile of books.

The Librarian desk was placed in such a way that you would immediately know if anyone entered the library. It would normally be teenagers and college go-ers labelled as nerds who would spend hours and hours of studying and reading. But this time, the one approaching your desk was the last person you ever wanted to see.

Nikolai’s father.

A week ago, Chad did make an appearance into your life out of the blue, asking you to take him back. But you couldn’t for you believed in two things: Your self-respect wasn’t weak, and that Nikolai didn’t deserve a pathetic excuse of a father. After you found out about his infidelity, you mentally decided not to take him back and that was a final decision.

You dropped whatever you were doing and made a beeline to Chad. “You can’t drop in during work like this.”

Quarter of an hour perhaps was spent on arguing back and forth in whispers. You will never deny that how it would be perfect for Nikolai to grow up with a father, but you kept reminding yourself not to give in to him.

“Listen Y/N. I really am sorry for barging like you on this. I want to make things right. “

“You can’t Chad,” you whispered, “I can’t. It is not fair to Nikolai and to me. Just go.”

Chad suddenly pushed you back to one of the bookshelves by gripping your shoulders. His shoulder touches were something that he used to do to offer you comfort at times of distress. But now this was causing you stress.

He gritted his teeth. “Why can’t you just fucking take me back?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who slipped into my co-worker’s vagina!”

Before you realised Chad was going to get unpleasant with you, another familiar voice interrupted the small run-in.

“Hey everything alright?”

You turned around to the stern voice only to see your neighbour, Andrew. You were fixated on him to the point where you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

He looked so handsome.

He was wearing a formal dark navy suit, his tie almost matching his hair colour. His hair and beard were neatly groomed with just a hint of messy. His beautiful trench coat accentuated his arm muscles. He did look like a textbook District Attorney.

Andy on the other hand exchanged looks between the both of you, glaring at the man who dare pushed you back against the bookshelf. He got near to them which made Chad leave his grip and take a few steps away from her.

Chad continued the conversation with you without acknowledging the intruder’s existence. “I’m going to leave now. Think about it. I’ll come in a few days to pick up Nikolai.” He soon left, making sure he didn’t make eye contact with the formal dude who seemed to be much taller to him.

Andy approached you cautiously while your hand pressed the wrinkles off of your shoulders. “Couldn’t help but hearing the whole co-worker slipping into your vagina statement. That man your ex?”

Dealing with two arrogant men simultaneously was not something you signed up today. “Be careful Mr. Barber, the attorney in you is showing.”

Andy stiffened his shoulders but did not let go of his grin. He liked a woman who was snappy, especially when he has seen the caring side of you. “So, you know about me?”

“I can take care of myself,” deflecting from his question. You didn’t want to admit about your slip up that you read about him from an online article. “You didn’t have to do that whole saviour stunt on me Mr. Barber,” you walked away from him, heading outside the library to catch a breath of fresh air. Andy followed you like a puppy would.

“You didn’t have to do it alone too, Miss”

You noticed how he didn’t call you formally. “Andrew, I told you I-I am never going to have a conversation with you ever.”

“I know I know.” He paused and you crossed your arms, waiting for him to say something while you admired the beauty of his trench coat on his frame.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy. M-my shift ends in an hour.”

“I can wait.”

“No Andrew, my car is in the repairs and I’m bailing on my assistant to drop me home-“

“I can drop you. We literally live next to each other. Please Y/N,” He neared you, anxiously looking over at you, “Give me this tiny speck of a chance.”

You stood there trying to pull off a stern look, trying so hard not to display you inhaling his musky cologne that made you excited. Who would’ve thought you would fall for a meanie who just had a pair of needy, blue eyes?

“Alright fine,” you said giving in. “Read a book or something inside.”

Andy was happy at his sweet victory.

In that time Andy decided to look through the well-ventilated library. It was quite spacious, his senses hitting with the smell of old books and natural pesticides to keep the books from deteriorating. There were enough tables for people to sit and read at their leisure. He even recognized familiar books he used to read with Laurie every night. It was an intimate ritual for them; so eventually for the past few months, he gave up on reading.

Andy then noticed you scuttling around for a while till you plopped on your desk. Your work attire was silk white blouse with a yellow pencil skirt. There was a strut of confidence every time you took a step or gave orders to her assistant.

Neither of you would deny the lingering glances you gave each other in that time.

An hour passed and both of you stood outside near his beautiful black car.

“What is it Andrew?”

“I wanted to sincerely apologize to you. This is not right I know. I know I’ve hurt your feelings and this apology doesn’t even cover it. I stepped out of line many times even though you remained to be kind to me.”

You puffed out a breath of air. Judging by the tone of his voice, you knew the man before you were being sincere.

“Just let me make it up to you one day at a time please. It would kill me if I didn’t do anything.”

“Y-you don’t have to anything Mr. Barber. Its just-“

“I know take your time. I hope we could hit the refresh button excluding the part where I make it up to you.”

“Yeah no um- I also owe you another thanks for helping back at the Library- uh Chad? The bloke you interrupted me with?”

Andy nodded. “It was nothing really. So, can we start fresh?” He extended his hand to you and a firm handshake was exchanged.

“Apology accepted I suppose.”

Soon you found yourself in Andy’s car, who was kind to even open the door for you. Chivalry isn’t dead.

For now.

The ride back was quiet, you observing in the interiors of the sleek black car. The seat felt so comfortable, along with the man beside you. A comfortable silence prevailed the drive back home, Andy popping in superficial questions about your work and Nikolai and vice versa.

“So any plans for tonight?”

“Nikolai wanted to watch a Disney movie tonight with some Chicken Lasagne. Oddly, specific I know but kids these days, right?”

“Yeah.” You noticed how his face fell slightly and so you tried to change the topic. “What about you?”

“The usual. Netflix and Takeout. Trying to cut on the beer though you know with the new job and all.”

“Thanks for the drive back home Mr. Barber.”

He took this as a good sign. “From now on you can call me Andy.”

“Listen Mr. Barber- Andy I have to get something off of my chest. “

Andy unbuckled his seat belt and faced you, unsure of what she wanted to say. “Sure please, go ahead.”

“Okay Andy. I just want to clear the air that only know about you as an attorney because my curiosity irked me after your whole garage shed incident. I didn’t dig much because I felt like the inner me was being like a creep.”

He raised his eyebrows heart slightly sinking that you had already become the judge of his character. “So, you do know about me then?”

“Not more than how your son was involved in a murder trial,” you fumbled. “I don’t know the outcome and I don’t know why I am telling you all of this oh my god.”

Andy chuckled to see you covering your face in embarrassment, feeling a little relieved to know that you didn’t have much of an idea of who he was. He reassured her that it was completely fine, and you saw you going back home.

The next couple of days went smoother for both you and Andy. After a week it seems you and Andy always left home for work at the same time, passing casual morning greetings…which you had to do by successfully covering your blush because he never failed to look nothing less than good looking even though he was now just a swimming instructor.

Andy told you that day he apologized to you at the library was the day when he gave in an interview for the Swimming Instructor position opened at the community gym. He said it was something he used to do in his free time, and he wanted to give it a shot

You weren’t even surprised to find your mind in the gutter when you thought about Andy in skin-fit Speedos that stuck to his thick thighs and broad back. Or would he just wear trunks? You smacked your head; this what happens when the last time you got laid was two years back…

No offense to your expensive vibrator.

Andy would drop you to work if you didn’t feel like it and pick you up too. He even would take Nikolai alone for car rides which he enjoyed.

“Mommy! Wandi car go zooooom!”

He once popped into the library telling you that he would like to be a member. You would have never thought that this man was a bookworm. He soon told you how he used to have a habit of reading a book every night and now that he wants to revive it.

Normally for new inquisitive children or young adults who wanted recommendations to begin the practice of reading was handled by your assistant, Tracy. You weren’t surprised when Tracy was almost proactive when she saw Andy. But to the utter dismay of your assistant, Andy wanted to hear it from you.

Its not like you won a battle with your assistant, but you happily concurred with you head held high. He wants me. (You smacked yourself mentally again, jealousy is an ugly stain).

“How do I know you’re not bluffing Andy?” you whispered.

“Hey hey,” he leaned nearer to your ears. “I’m new to this place and I want a couple of books and recommendations that’s all. It can get lonely at home sometimes.”

As Andy and you spoke over books, you saw he had no shred of the hostility he had in these past few weeks. Andy also noticed how you looked much more comfortable than you were initially. For the both of you a new friendship was blooming.

For now.

“What kind of books are you into Mr. Barber?”

“Well I was the thriller and mystery kind, but things have changed, looking for a change rather. Nothing old sticks on to me now.”

“Ah yes. Every reader has that phase and I have just the solution.”

He was almost puzzled when you took him to the young adults section and handed over two books or rather two parts of a beautiful story.

“Harry Potter? Isn’t that a children’s book?”

“Objection your honour!” You went on to tell him the premise of the books without spoiling much for him. It suddenly struck him that Jacob had these books at home too. But he was able to push the twinge away when he hears your sweet whispers of excitement. He did complain he has watched the movies but the bookworm in him knew that books are always better than the movies.

“Okay okay! Objection is sustained.” He laughs. A genuine laughter after what seemed like eons.

You didn’t want the conversation to end. It felt refreshing to talk to Andy and so you felt generous.

“You can drop the usual food takeout today yeah? When was the last time you had home cooked meal?

Andy thought for a while. “An awfully long time Y/N. It’s okay-“

“Dinner is at my house. No excuses.”

Andy found a little purpose to be excited in life.

–

On Mondays, Andy comes home with a bottle of wine to beat the heat of a horrid Monday morning.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Andy flaunts his cooking skills to you and Nikolai. Surprisingly, he has not lost his touch over cooking. He loved it how the little boy gets the food names all jumbled up and how, much to your embarrassment, he would ask him for food requests. Can we have Pawsta and bwed? Or Can we have spwagety?

Wednesdays and Fridays, Andy chilled out on your sofa having a tea party or fighting an alien invasion with Nikolai while you effortlessly cooked to your delight.

It’s almost become a ritual over as the weeks go by. Andy and you talk a lot, but never about each other. Both of you talk about books, or debate over politics or even talk about movies.

It was in these nights when both of you unintentionally spills the beans of your past.

First was Andy when was discussing about how he loved the Harry Potter books you suggested that the waterfall of backstories began. After dinner got over both of you sat on your couch talking about the day’s work, while Nikolai fiddled with toys on the cushioned chair. He mentioned how Jacob had these books.

“Who is Jacob?”

Andy looked ahead at Nikolai sitting at one of the comfort chairs with a couple of his figurines while his eyes fought with slumber, “My son.”

“Oh, how is he? Is he with his mother now?”

Maybe it was too soon to ask. You literally saw with your own eyes how Andy’s eyes drooped, and his figure slumped before you. It even became confusing when he shook his head slightly sideways.

Realising you may have overstepped a line, you tried to steer the conversation to another direction, but Andy blurted it out as if he needed to remind himself the truth.

“Jacob died in a car accident and his mother is in prison for the very same.”

Whispering a oh my god underneath your breath while covering your mouth didn’t stop your eyes from pricking with tears.

Andy narrated the events of the trial briefly while he grabbed the bottle of wine drinking from it directly, not getting in too detail. He mentioned how his son was dropped of all the charges and how after one vacation, everything changed. He mentioned how his now ex-wife successfully attempted to kill Jacob in a car crash because she was convinced that her son was the actual murderer.

Andy was numb to this story (the kinder version where you didn’t know he was the son of the murderer Billy Barber) and he didn’t realise the kind of reaction it would evoke from someone who had no idea about his past. Guess he was surrounded with nosy people all his life until now.

He internally panicked to you see your tearful state.

“Andy I’m so sorry.”

In an instinct you pulled Andy to you, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug. Andy needed a hug so bad he may have wrapped his arms around you an inch closer while he rubbed your back in assurance. He heard your small sniffles, which made him hug you tighter.

His hoarse reassuring whispers that he was alright made you even more devastated. “Hey look Y/N. I am alright okay?”

You pulled away from his embrace in embarrassment. Andy’s heart was hard as a rock, he gave you a half-hearted smile, “God I’m such a fool sometimes. Quick to come to conclusions. I shouldn’t have been so judgmental.”

“If you’re forgetting that was me a couple of weeks back.” His gently touched your cheeks wiping a tear or two away. “Hey come on now. Tears don’t suit you momma bear.”

“So, I’m a bear now huh?”

A little giggle came out of your lips and Andy felt warm. Your mind was fluttering as Andy still stroked your cheek with his thumb. You never realised could be so soothing until a worried Nikolai tried to scramble up on both of your laps.

“Mommy why you cwying?”

“Nothing peaches. Its just-“

“I ate your mommy’s cookies Nikolai,” Andy interrupted earning a dramatic gasp from the little boy while you stifled your laughter.

“Its okay Wandi. Mommy you can take the cookies fwom my jahr. Don’t cwy mommy”

After a series of awws from the two adults, Nikolai went back to his toys. It was time for Andy to leave, standing on the threshold of your house.

“This fresh start is not happening for me at all Y/N. You have been such a wonderful person entertaining me these nights but, I still can’t sleep you know. It’s haunting.”

“Andy,” you still sniffed. “The minute the garage incident was over, that was the minute you stepped away from prying eyes. No one is going to bother you now Andy. You can start fres, infact I think you already did. You bagged a Swimming Instructor shift at the local gym, you have got a new house and most importantly, or not, is that you have Nikolai and Me.

“We all have skeletons in our closet Andy, that’s the unfortunate truth. Its not going to be easy but life has to go on because little do you know you have people depending on you.”

Andy knew you were referring to Nikolai, but for him he had no one depending on him. What was the point of moving on?

“Good night Y/N”

He only left the threshold after he realised you had placed a kiss on his cheek and gave him a hug on your tiptoes.

Another night, it was your turn.

Andy soon realised Nikolai wasn’t anywhere around the house. The toys were neatly placed, and the Television wasn’t running. Music was playing from your phone, but it was low and from the smell of it, you were cooking Chicken Lasagne, Nikolai’s favourite dish.

“Where is Niko? Is he sleeping?”

“He is with his father and the grandparents.”

The dinner went awfully quiet, sure he tried to sneak conversations here and there, but he wasn’t able to hold it. He learned how you decided to actually listen to Chad’s wishes under the conditions that his grandparents would be around. Andy saw your little smile when he learned that Nikolai was extremely reluctant to go with his father. A rational side of you didn’t want to separate Nikolai from his father.

It was while you were flipping through the channels that you broke out like a dam.

“You know Andy, what you heard that day in the library was the truth you know.”

“Niko’s father Chad?”

“It was Nikolai’s first birthday. We were all gathered at home for a small birthday party. Chad and I called in our co-workers that day. In the name of this little one everyone began drinking by around four when we scheduled the party at six.”

Andy noticed how you sardonically laughed in between.

“Before we could cut the cake, I went in search of Chad because Niko wouldn’t cut the cake without him. So, I went around searching for him because I remember Chad was kind of drunk. And then I find him in our room fucking his co-worker while he screamed her name.”

You looked below and began fidgeting with your fingernails. “The next half an hour went in a haze. The guests left. Chad and I went hysteric. We were at each other’s throat. I screamed at him and Chad somehow became sober and began to um- hit me uhm-“

You were breaking and Andy didn’t want to ask you to stop narrating. You must have trusted him enough to talk about something that you evidently found traumatic. Andy scooted closer and took your palms in his hands.

“And I didn’t even realise how I was scarring Niko. He was sitting on the couch all alone scared at our hysterics. In that half hour I- I- forgot about him. The guests were gone, and he didn’t cry. Niko just sat there with his beady eyes clutching his figurines, looking at me in horror after that bastard went up to his room like nothing mattered. I’m the reason for Nikolai’s state.”

“Hey what state Y/N?” Andy stroked your cheek; the lines of formality were blurred between you two. Right now, it was just one soul comforting another in a time of agony. “Nikolai is such perfect child. I have never seen such a brilliant three-year-old in my life.”

You whimpered, “N-Niko hates birthdays. The sight of candles on a cake make him cry and disturbed. H-his nursery is left incomplete because he has these terrible nightmares when he is left alone. He comes crying in horror even if I try to let him sleep alone for once. He always sleeps with me. W-what if I damaged him Andy? Wh-what if he likes his father more in this visit? What if he leaves me?”

You sobbed uncontrollably into Andy’s chest. He didn’t hesitate in cradling you and stroking your hair. He pulled you closer, leaning back at the couch. He waited for your crying to die down.

“You’re such an amazing mother darling,” he whispered, the loving nickname going unnoticed because it seemed so right, “So caring, so kind. Nikolai loves you, you know that right?”

He felt you nodding your head at his chest while none of you bothered to acknowledge how both of your legs were intertwined now. Andy scooted lower on the sofa, lying down with you still cradled to him.

“Chad was a fucking scoundrel okay? Anybody would have reacted like that like you did.” Andy gritted his teeth when he recalled that he hit you but suppressed his emotions because his emotions wasn’t important now. “Nikolai is going to be simply fine. When he comes back, he’s going to run into your arms and say how much he missed you and then proceed to ransack the living room with his toys.”

That genuinely made you laugh. You didn’t want to let go of Andy. His cologne was calming. His sweater shirt was soft. You even felt his little belly; he did mention he was drinking a lot of beer and whiskey when he can’t sleep in the night. It felt so intimate; it felt so right in spite the fact the neither of you are dating.

“You’re a good man Andy.”

Andy places a chaste kiss on your forehead. He saw your cheeks scrunch up, like you were blushing. His lips felt soft on your forehead, a warmth running through the both of you. Andy decided to leave but your grip on his meant something else. Looking down, he felt your soft breaths on his neck now for you tucked your head on his neck. You must be clingy he wondered, but he didn’t mind. He needed a dose of clingy looking at his current state of life.

“Good Night Y/N.”

He was supposed to get up slowly and untangle from your limbs and spread a blanket on you before he left. He was supposed to go back inside his house and have another round of sleepless nights.

Not cuddle and have a good night’s sleep peacefully with you in your soft sofa?

–

Finally, Saturdays and Sundays are the lazy days, ironically both of you don’t hang out as much on the weekends for deep inside Andy thought he was invading Nikolai and yours family time.

When Nikolai was back the next day, just like Andy had mentioned, he ran into your arms and kissed you so much. He even hugged you harder and said he didn’t want to go back to his father.

“He’s not like Wandi. Wandi likes tea pawties. Papa says tea pawties is for guhls and not for boys.”

“Peaches that’s not true, you can play tea party any time you want. You can play with me and Andy okay?”

“Yeah okay. Can we play tea pawty inside Wandi’s cahr too?”

“Niko!”

Your little boy also managed to change your mother-son ritual into a mother-son-neighbour ritual. He persisted you into calling Andy for the everyday evening picnic at the lawn. You knew your son loved Andy but a little voice asked if this was too much.

Apparently it wasn’t. Andy was extremely happy to join you and Nikolai. He kept asking if it was okay but a few reassurances later Andy joined you with a jar of lemonade. “I may have peaked out of the window and seen your daily picnics. None of them have this baby.” (Of course he was talking about his lemonade).

“Mommi look, Wandi made lemonade! Yaaaay!”

He runs over and hugs Andy as tight as his little hands can.

“I bake this boy five types of cookies and he falls for your lemonade? Blasphemy Andy. What are you doing to my son?” you ask him with feigned wound in your heart.

“Oh Y/N. He’s just found a new friend. Don’t be jealous now.”

Seeing your son and Andy bond made you heart make a little small wish; that Niko and you find a companion like Andy. Wishing for Andy himself is like wishing for a star. Why would this perfect man fall for a broken person like you?

Andy and you spoke while the little boy ran around the lawn with his toys and it was then his senses came alive and he took in his surroundings.

A pink stained sky; clouds imitating to be cotton candy. A beautiful house in a quaint neighbourhood. The faint smell of your warm cookies and refreshing lemonade while your son ran around. A woman of his dreams weaving her palm through the strands of her hair. This was a dreamland.

And in that moment, he scooted near you and he entwined his hands into yours. You were perplexed at what he was doing but you went with the flow. He wanted his utopia.

“Andy? What are you-“

“Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

After a few minutes later, your answer gave all the reassurance that he finally got his fresh start; that he can finally start a new life without the demons in the closet.

Right?

–

Part 3

–

Taglist (IS OPEN): @art-estrange @sinner-as-saint @captainscanadian, @kakakatey @bluevelvetsam @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @anqelicstarc @lcandothisallday @https-bucky @readermia @chrisevansforever @ruthyalva96 @thedarkplume @sammyfresh @bloglovelylady @stuckys-dirty-girl @rindaastridfreakinreign @buckys-plums3 @marvelouspottering @sweetlittlegingy @emilykjhgsj @poppunkdork @bval-1lovepeacefood @captainchrisstan @hista-girl @xlanawriter @denisemarieangelina @xoxabs88xox @adreamemporium @yoncevans @oceanlenny @ididntchoosethislife @evansinlove @ninaminaromina @sodonutnutnut @nickysurfer28 @captainchrisstan @charmed-asylum @lovepeacefood @trashboggart @elementoffire1988 @kelbabyblue @princess-evans-addict @secretlyactivated @harryismyonlyangel @agentmstark @firstangeldragonranch @tessa-bl @morganclaire4 @i-ship-it-ironically @kiza4 @morganclaire4 @may-machin @shikin83 @lovingonshawn @turtoix @tenaciousperfectionunknown @in-a-constant-daydream6 @dangerdolns @fckdeusername @missus-rogers @themadhattersqueen @heatherhollowayst @littleprincessma @this-is-serenaa @youllbemineandillbeyours @cevans-is-classic @funfickgirl22 @mery-be @jojo-lindholm @evans-dejong

#Andy Barber #Defending Jacob #Andy Barber x reader #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #defending jacob spoilers #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #defending jacob finale #andrew barber #jacob barber

575 notes · View notes

pandemilkbread · 4 years

Text

paubaya (angst!oneshot)

authors note: hello! i had an angsty dream last night and instead of pouring out my thoughts and using it to write on my story... it made me write a oneshot. also, the new moira song had me thinking— why shouldn’t i make this into an angsty oneshot too... hm.

anyways. please enjoy :>

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Paubaya

noun /pa·u·ba·ya/ origins. filipino

summary: You were far from being a pessimist; but you knew, you utterly knew, that loving Bakugo Katsuki would end in heartbreak.

intro.

You loved reading. Your favorite part? The ending. Especially when the villain’s wicked schemes go haywire at the hands of the prince, who in the name of love saves his beloved from their wicked hands.

As a past time, you would imagine the days when your own prince charming would sweep you off your feet; promising his unconditional love for you. Showers of light glistening all the way to your magnificent castle.

But by the tender age of nine did you start doubting those acts of prose in fairytales. Maybe, just maybe, if you believed hard enough he would finally show up.

And by the miserable age of eleven, when your own father left your home for the final time, the only words of assurance your mother could give you were:

“Oh, honey. Sometimes the hardest kind of love is the one you have to leave behind.”

first verse.

You loved writing. Your favorite part? The words. How they instantly relieved yourself of thoughts that lurked deep within your subconscious. Your hands scribbled endlessly on the pages of your notebook, professing your love for the kind boy in class (oh, please someone save your sweet heart).

The contents of your diary will forever remain confidential. The objective? You thought by writing down how you felt for him could you move on from his clutches. He wasn’t necessarily a villain, but to you— a fragile girl at the age of thirteen, he could easily scar you for life.

A bit over the top for someone so young; but you like to think about it this way. To save yourself from the embarrassment of rejection, to save yourself from bawling your eyes out thereof; keeping it to yourself was the best course of action.

When the burden became too heavy, you continued writing every single feeling down until you were left empty to the core. What’s left to do? Rip out each and every page and burn it.

Yet, it was a mishap really. When the gods decided to play you like a fool when the medium of your leaked thoughts disappeared. A joke? Not a funny one at all.

And only on the rooftop of your middle school building did you realize where your missing item went. Into the hands of the person you liked.

By now, you were fuming. How dare he take something that did not belong to him? How dare he—

“How stupid is it of you to believe that any fraction of kindness anyone gives you is equal to love?”

He was right. You were stupid enough to fall for his good looks and kindness, you were dumb enough to be swayed by his charms. Though his angelic persona couldn’t stop you from punching the lights out of his face.

(but the cries of his friends hiding behind the door did.)

pre-chorus.

Bakugo Katsuki was an enigma. It was near impossible to comprehend how someone that attractive could be devil’s reincarnate, you even felt the heat of Hell radiating out of his body.

He was no prince charming; no one convinced you otherwise. And yet, you couldn’t help yourself but fall for the antagonist. The epitome of a fairytale villain right in the flesh.

You first met him in high school, your first year specifically, in the nurses’ office. As a student intern for Recovery Girl, you spent most of your days in her office handling paperwork. Quite surprising really how a quirkless student like you made it into the prestigious school in the first place.

Well, where you lacked you made up for. You had your brains to thank. It made up for the lack of power, good enough to get you in the general department.

Anyhow, if someone came up to you and said ‘you’ll be swept of your feet, baby!’ you’d scoff and retort back in laughter. But when Bakugo Katsuki came into your life, it was a pretty close demonstration of what it felt like to be a princess— one that was blasted of her feet.

(and you didn’t mean it figuratively. nope, he really did blast you off your feet.)

chorus.

How it happened? Simple, a rage visit to the nurse.

The door slammed open revealing an irked pomeranian covered in bruises. Bakugo marched over to your desk looming an irritated expression. For someone who’d look like he could blast you into smithereens, you stared in awe. He was really attractive in person.

You’ve heard of the boy from passing conversations in your department. His name frequently mentioned when the words sports festival and kidnapping popped up. His reputation couldn’t prepare you for his good looks, you would never admit it but, god does he look good.

And with that, he said his first words to you: “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Ah, yes. How romantic. You held back an eye roll and stood up. Predictable. He was probably looking for Recovery Girl to fix that bleeding gash on his temple, but sadly the latter was unavailable. Something around the lines of quick bathroom break or teacher meeting.

“She’s not here. Bear with it for a sec, let me get something to help.” You mumbled.

Being the only intern for the office had its perks, you freely practiced first aid when the paperwork was bearable and no one was around. You cleaned the wounds with an antiseptic, then proceeded to patch them up with bandages and some gauzes.

You found it amusing how the loud boy remained quiet on the chair while you were working on him. You finished your treatment with a pat to his head, “Good boy, you can leave now.”

Your words just seemed to rile him, ending the conversation with a “What’dya call me, ugly!?”

second verse.

By now, you were well-acquainted with Bakugo’s bunch of friends that you call the semi-crackheads and the real-crackheads. It was easy to differentiate the members into the two categories. All you had to do was think: among all of them, who had the most potential to burn down the school in flames?

Bakugo obviously stands at the top of that list followed by Kaminari, and Mina. The other lesser two evils, Kirishima and Sero, were safely sorted into the semi’s.

How you met? Simple, repetitive gestures you did whenever you saw Blasty.

After the events in the nurses’ office you’ve come to notice the boy more at school. Whenever lunch came around your eyes would instantly search for his figure, darting around for any sign. When it ends in vain, you sighed.

The next day however, you found him by the corner of the cafeteria with his friends. You focused your time gazing at Bakugo’s mop of hair, and in turn, he looked up and met your own. You sent him a nasty grin and for some reason, he sent a glare back.

The boy, obviously distracted from the conversation at their table, caused sets of eyes to turn to the source of his focus. Now gazed upon not one, but five sets of faces with undiscernible looks. So this is what being the center of attention feels like.

(you sincerely hoped it would stop. though you only have yourself to blame for it.)

pre-chorus.

Time flies quick when you’re surrounded by people who make your life difficult. And when you mean difficult, you mean constant trips to the nurses’ office when any of the quintet manage to injure themselves. Unsurprisingly, this happened frequently.

Apparently, the pomeranian revealed you worked for Recovery Girl and made his friends intrigued. Especially when he called you “ugly” more times than they could remember.

You were already on your second year of high school when Mina proposed you joined their group study session. Evidently, you had the best grades in the general department, well— except for math, and they wanted to use it to their advantage. You willingly accepted though, with the exchange of having blastboy teach you your weakest subject.

(only after being taunted.)

You felt the rush of heat that swirled in your stomach when Bakugo meets your eyes, grinning. It remained in your thoughts the night after, the feelings rising and falling every second that passed.

By then, you knew you were screwed. Oh god, he was going to break your heart.

chorus.

“Do you like someone?” You muttered one day. The other four members of your so-called study group (more like a cramming team, you’d retort.) missed out on today’s session as they had other things to do.

This left you and Bakugo as the only participants. The silence was unbearable, truthfully you had done enough reviewing to last a year, but you wanted to attend for the sake of seeing his face.

You knew he was a loud one, a potty mouth at that, and it was worrying to see him so... silent. You wanted to break the peace by riling him up and to your disappointment, he remained silent.

He did reply though, minutes after.

“...Shut up, extra.”

His usual snap backs always made you laugh. Even when it looked like he was going to send you into an early grave. But the way he said it right now, made you nauseous. Something akin to dread swiveled within you. No, it couldn’t be?

One of your many talents lie in the skill of perception; and perceptive you were. More so when it involved the people you cared about, and you more than cared for feisty boy.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look into your eyes. The tangerine color of the sunset couldn’t hide the pinkish hue that was plastered on his cheeks. Funny as it was, a part of you wanted to scoff. The Bakugo Katsuki likes someone.

With that, a small part of you shattered. The remaining bits of pieces tied together by a string hanging loosely in anticipation, was it you?

“Who is it?” You whispered.

You were far from being a pessimist and you held on to that hope so tightly. Please give me a chance, please don’t break it. In that matter of seconds before his answer, you prayed ever so gently.

And when he breathed out a name that clearly was not yours, all hope died.

(and you with it. if you had just kept your mouth shut.)

bridge.

Her name came up more often than you thought; and to your dismay, you noticed the growing grin that came along with it. Bakugo sported a different kind of vibe the moment any conversation stirred towards the object of his affections.

And more often than you liked; the feelings of anguish mixed with the bitterness twisted ever so constantly in your chest. Like a weighing anchor falling into the sea, an endless rope diving deep into its waters.

As cheesy as it was, you but feel... hurt? For what reason? You hardly knew yourself. Though a deep part of you truly hoped, maybe, even a tiny little bit, that he liked you.

Seemingly, your fondness for the boy must have clouded your senses by the time Kirishima showed up at the library one afternoon. With all knowing look, he sat down opposite of you and mumbled:

“You know, for a guy that’s pretty smart. He can be real dense sometimes.”

Your heart leapt. You took a deep breath and counted. One, he couldn’t know. Two, he shouldn’t know. Three, was it that obvious? Four, does he know? You flipped the pages of your textbook, pretending to be so immersed in the subject that—

“He’s never going to know if you don’t speak up.” Was he reading your mind now?

“How’d you find out?” You sighed, dropping your head into your palms.

“You’re not the only observant one.”

Of course. Besides the dense Bakugo, there were four other sets of eyes in your group. One of them must have noticed how stiff, or how unusual (more like miserable) you’ve been acting. You gotta hand it to them though, they work fast.

“It shouldn’t be like this. Why am I so miserable?”

A pause, then two, then three. Kirishima weighed your options, and like the supportive friend he was, he gave you an answer.

“You should talk it out. Let him know. Because at the end, you’ll be the one who suffers the most. Just try.”

outro.

And by some interference of faith, more like some intervention from Mina and coaxing from Kaminari, you waited outside the 3-A homeroom for the so-called love of your life. You’d prefer to stop the cheesy antics, yet your nerves were all over the place. You needed something to calm you down.

Earlier that day, you sent a message to Bakugo asking him to meet you halfway. 6 PM. Outside 3-A. Don’t be late, stupid. Minutes pass and there was no sign of the guy. Figures.

Just as you were about to call quits the man of the hour finally showed up, sporting a look of annoyance.

“You finally decide to text me back, extra.”

Of course he was mad, you ignored his texts the past week. Avoiding him like the plague.

“Hm. You missed me?” You heart beats frantically in your chest.

“Who would miss you, ugly.”

And there it was, the whomper. Giggles erupted from your mouth and you wiped the almost tears in your eyes. Although his words seemed derogatory, the way he looked refuted his words. He was visibly upset at your attempts of ignoring him.

“I’m sorry. The exams were really difficult.” You consoled. “I missed you too, Katsuki.”

With that, you saw the cogs twisting and turning in his head. His face showing a definite ‘what the fuck just happened’ expression. Of course he did, this was the first time you’ve ever called him by his first name.

You hoped for the best that was enough for you to get your message across. He was pretty smart, but pretty stupid. Oh well.

You sort of realized that even the words pass by his ears and he barely understood a thing, you were happy. Yes, you were still miserable. Yes, you wanted him to love you the same way you did. But, sometimes the best way of loving someone was to let them go.

You didn’t want to burden him with your problems, or even add more to his. So you decided to keep your feelings to yourself. Kirishima must be berating you right now. You laughed.

The journey to moving on would be tough. You knew it. Telling him the truth would be so much easier. You knew it too. Just like your mother said, sometimes the hardest kind of love is the one you left behind.

And no way in hell were you leaving Bakugo Katsuki.

end note: so that’s the end aaaaaa i wanted to keep it as a oneshot but for some reason... part two??? bakugo’s pov??? AAAAAAAAA okay yes reader chan kept her feelings to her self. it’s a bit sad, but you know... that’s life and you don’t always get what you deserve :<

thank you for reading!!

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha oneshots #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #oneshots #oneshot #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios #angst fic

52 notes · View notes

jaegertango · 4 years

Text

Contract

I return to Tumblr after almost two years because fuck learning how to do Ao3 and Twitter puts me in a rancid mood. Have some OC writing with a goblin.

Quel'thalas, home of the High Elves, was a region of legendary beauty and stupendous magics. Its radiant forests and mana-filled skies made it a haven to all spellcasters, as well as made sure every child of the Quel'dorei bore the boon of magical prowess. Being such an effervescent garden of study and bastion of delight made it most of everyone in Azeroth's number one wish to visit – but it was not so easy to travel towards. The High Elves, massively proud of their homeland, were also infamous for their xenophobia, and barred all outsiders from “defiling” their blessed region and taking what was theirs. Not one member of the Alliance, traveler of the Horde, even splendorous mages from Dalaran, were allowed passage to the golden land. For many years, only a scant few outsiders were given permission to enter the borders of Quel'thalas, and even fewer returned back from those woods.

And their xenophobic ways only grew more paranoid after the assault of the Scourge.

Arthas' crusade to the Sunwell, the crown gem and source of power for the Quel'dorei, had left the capital of Silvermoon and much of Quel'thalas in ruin. Their eternal font of magic had been corrupted into an amalgamation, capable only of poison, and the city had been sundered into two razed sides. Most of the Quel'dorei perished horrendously, only to be brought back as wretched shadows of their former selves, seeking only to appease their baser instincts. Only in the recent years, with the arrival of the Alliance and Horde banding together against the greater evils of the Scourge and Legion, could the newly dubbed Sin'dorei – the Blood Elves - attempt to heal their devastated lands and rebuild their ruined city. Despite their fears of outsiders, they demanded help, desperate for even the aid of “barbarians” to return themselves to their former glory once more.

“Mister” Jashuo Blasternut knew better, but he also understood their plight. As he sat in his Shredder, the Goblin was amazed at the sheer magnificence of the city of Silvermoon. He had seen plenty of tall buildings before in his time, but never could he have expected the spires of the Quel'dorei to lance the heavens so proudly, nor enjoy the tidy stone of the streets. Gadgetzan prided itself on its own technology and access to buildings made of metal and stone over wood and mud, but in comparison to how Silvermoon stood, he would've been breathless – were it not for the literal black scar ripped into the capital of utopia. It was the most obscene comparison, as the pilot gazed from extravagant splendor in the shapes of gold, scarlet and emerald – to a twisted artwork of unholy soil and desecrated treasure. It was almost laughable how obvious the comparison was: Jashuo could see a Magister walking in his silk robes of glorious azure, promptly ignoring the wicked burn lashes scorched into the streets not far from his right. Rather than try to admit that their city had been sacked, they instead hid away in what remained of the city, and refused to look at what had been destroyed. Perhaps it was too traumatizing, or perhaps it was an eyesore; perhaps it was both. Mister Blasternut would've understood either one, but that was why he was there: to make sure that Silvermoon City got the supplies it needed to repair itself.

So he waited on the streets in his Shredder, which was continuously coughing out smoke from its double exhausts thickly. Combined with the meaty grumble of its engine, every single Blood Elf in the city was giving Jashuo a wide berth. He definitely stood out among all of the glitz and glamour, and they refused to give such an obnoxious blemish to their amazing city. The Goblin frankly didn't care, though he was annoyed that they weren't giving his crisp suit the time of day. He dressed up for this! The least that the Sin'dorei could do was accept that he was there to help them and not “embarrass” them. At the same time though, it didn't matter. All that did matter was that his contact showed up and recognized that he was there to plot this contract with them properly. Being a benefactor still demanded the proper respect, and the pilot could only hope that the pride of a noble would not get in the way. It certainly would not be the first time...

Eventually though, he was greeted with a small contingent of Sin'dorei riding upon their daintily-decorated hawkstriders. The only reason that Mister Blasternut recognized them from any other clique of elves was due to them walking straight *at* him, definitely showing that they recognized his presence. The Goblin counted five of them – four guards surrounding a fifth. Too many for him to fight; rather, too many for him to fight and get out alive. His Shredder was equipped with enough state-of-the-art weaponry and thick armor to get him out of (and into) any scrap comfortably, but fighting five well-trained Mages would take too much time for him to make a victorious escape. At the same time, this was making the Goblin somewhat nervous: he had neglected to hire any goons himself. The Blood Elves might have been affiliated with the Horde, but he had a hard time trusting uneven numbers. Regardless, he was there to do a job, and all he could hope was that these Sin'dorei weren't trigger happy. Keeping his sidearm pistol tucked into the back of his pants, Jashuo smoothed out the front of his suit and tie, swept his brown hair back and adjusted his aviator glasses. With an easy step, he moved forward to make the drop from his Shredder-

-only to hastily dart to the right as a fireball exploded a foot in front of him. Even if he hadn't made the dodge, the sparks wouldn't have touched him, but the Goblin still yelped and made the effort to move away.

“Not another step, greenskin!” One of the guards growled, his staff held aloft. “Where you stand is already close enough to the Magistrix.”

“Close eno- I'm twenty feet away!” Jashuo hissed, his hand behind his back in a clumsy attempt to snatch at his hidden weapon. He was unable to do so, and now it was obvious that he was reaching for something without actually drawing it. This only made the Sin'dorei more irked, and the other three were now drawing their respective staves and swords. With every second, the Goblin was highly regretting this meeting: these guys were thirstier for blood than Orcs!

“Perhaps once you've tossed away your weapon, we can assume you can be closer,” the first spoke again, his gaze tempered on Mister Blasternut. The woman in the middle merely sat silent, her eyes clearly concerned as she leered at Jashuo. It was not an argument that the Goblin wanted to lose, but he didn't have much of a choice. If it got bad, all he could hope for now was to scramble back to his Shredder before he got too ablaze. Surely they wouldn't do something so brazen though, right? Despite his instinct demanding that he not be that stupid, Jashuo once more paid them no heed, sighing as he pulled out the pistol and set it onto the ground. He held his hands up, trying to pass off his face as stoic, but he could feel his brows knitting together.

“Ya know, ya ain't makin' the best first 'mpression here!” He retorted back, flipping his hands back and forth to show he had nothing in his sleeves either. “I'm just a businessman here!”

The captain of the guard scoffed, but nonetheless nodded as he looked towards the Magistrix. She nodded in turn and began to dismount, her guardians following suit and forming up around her. While they all wore the garb of Spellbreakers, clad in intricate platemail, their lady wore a brilliant yellow dress definitely not for combat's usage. The fabric fluttered and glittered in any ray of light that touched it, giving it an ethereal appearance like that of the sun. She wore a mask in the shape of a phoenix's beak, but Jashuo could easily recognize she was a woman. Her hair was long and brown, a definite mane of well-kept locks in comparison to the Goblin's scruff. The two could not have been more different, the Blood Elf's tall and graceful to Jashuo's short and sleazy.

“Pray forgive the aggression,” she spoke in a polite, but curt tone, keeping her hands folded in front of her. “It is hard for anyone to trust outsiders, especially after our Ranger-General has seemingly returned from the dead.”

“...Seemingly?” Mister Blasternut grunted, and was luckily able to bite back any more sarcasm he had. He didn't need to give these Sin'dorei any more ammo to use on him. “I'm guessin' you're uh... Lady D'anthius then?”

“Indeed – and you hadn't even butchered the name! Consider me impressed,” the Lady D'anthius spoke, and even though she claimed it a compliment, the Goblin was somewhat annoyed at her words. Her tone could have sounded as pleasant as she wanted: it did not change the toxin her words meant.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I'm honored. Let's cut to the chase: you need metal for your city, aye?” Jashuo grunted, folding his arms over his chest. His bluntness seemed to take the Magistrix aback, for she visibly recoiled and responded quickly.

“Yes well I... ahem,” the woman spoke, and instantly the Goblin knew something was wrong. Those three words, combined with how she cleared her throat, wasn't like her previous tone. It sounded unsure and hasty, as if quickly being taken off-guard. Mister Blasternut was oh-so familiar with such a state of being, and even that cough was reminiscent of the many times he had to clear his head to properly talk. Yet, what most astounded him was how natural it sounded, as if the Lady's voice had only just started to make its arrival. When she spoke again though, it was with that same level volume and politeness.

“Indeed. The Scourge brought forth nightmares that have devastated our homes and left our people divided – but not broken,” she spoke firmly, keeping her eyes on Jashuo. “To that end, we need only the supply to return our people to grandeur once more.”

That tone returned, and the Goblin wasn't sure what to make of it. Now that he heard it again, something about her voice didn't sound correct. The words made sense, and they were definitely admirable, but now her tone sounded wrong. The Goblin kept quiet for a handful of seconds, trying to process what he could make of her statement to no avail. Maybe he was just overthinking it.

“Right... so metal for buildings and weapons and all that. Well, bulk's what I specialize in, so ya came to the right Goblin,” Jashuo replied finally, looking towards the destruction of the city to his left. “So uh... how much are we lookin' to buy here then?”

“Buy...?” the woman murmured blankly, though she instantly lit herself up to try and hide that question. “Oh! Well, that is what the contract is for, pray tell!”

There it was again. That tone of voice. It was striking the pilot in such a bizarre way that he couldn't put his finger on. Despite Lady D'anthius having spoke three times the amount of words in that “usual” tone of voice, hearing these other words was ringing in Jashuo's mind. Something was “off” about this woman, like she was putting on a different face and attitude. For some reason, this was gnashing hard against the Goblin, strongly enough that it was only when one of the guards cleared his throat that the pilot finally realized what the Magistrix had said.

“Aye, contract – y'know. Usually has cash to it. Ya are plannin' to pay for this, right?” Jashuo grunted, unable to stop himself from being somewhat snarky towards the Blood Elf as he raised an eyebrow at her. However, despite his own aggression, the woman nodded easily, and motioned for one of her protectors.

“Indeed! This legally-binding contract will confirm that, in exchange for your goods and partnership, Silvermoon shall pay you warmly for your services. The parchment requires only your signature!” Lady D'anthius spoke up as the guardian walked towards the Goblin with a roll of paper and a quill. After reaching upward quite a bit to actually snatch the contract, Jashuo unfurled it, and instantly heard a murmur through the Sin'dorei. He ignored it, quickly scanning the document.

“Er... that is to say, at the bottom,” the Magistrix continued, and it was only when she spoke that the Goblin looked up curiously at the group. They quickly silenced, and it was because of that sudden quiet that Mister Blasternut felt the disturbance in persona once more. This time though, he could see flashes of concern in all of their faces, namely the protectors, and a cruel thought entered his mind. Did they not think he was going to read it?... or did they not think he knew how?

“...Seems all in order,” Jashuo answered lamely, and he could feel a plan forming in his head as he read more of the contract. Any of his former cowardice was quickly being melted out in favor of spite. If there was any way to give him the bravery to do something, it was entirely out of implication that he couldn't. He raised the quill to sign, and now that he was more aware, could sense the tension as thick as the smog belching from his Shredder.

“Yannow, actually...,” the Goblin spoke up as the quill touched the paper, and he looked up just in time to see one of the protectors inhale slightly. Instantly, that reaction made it worth being shot at. “I gotta quick question here, Lady D'anthius.”

“You... do?” She asked, at first trying to keep up that air of significance, but quickly deteriorating back into that gentler tone. Now there was no denying that false attitude, and it brought a genuine grin to Jashuo's face, full of shining, sharp teeth.

“Ayup! Ya'see, I ain't just a goblin of fortune here – I do what I do for a good cause, ya'hear me?” He spoke idly, gauging their reactions curiously. Lady D'anthius seemed unsure of what to make of him right now, but seemed to be agreeing with his words. “When I heard that I could be helpin' rebuild one of the greatest empires ever been 'round Azeroth, I knew what I had to do, see?”

“...Indeed?” The woman replied uncertainly, that fake tone trying to return, but the smugness of the guardians already coming back in full force. She seemed to be catching on that Jashuo was plotting something. He had to admire her thinking so quickly on her feet.

“Aye! So I'm here to help, I'm even here to take you tryin' to hose me with this cheap payment of a 'contract.' But here's the thing, Lady D'anthius,” Jashuo continued idly, then coldly insulted just quickly enough for him to segue into the next part of his explanation. The guardians instantly looked angered at the statement, but the Magistrix kept steady, seeming to predict the Goblin's tone as he kept talking.

“I ain't here to bullshit ya, so I'll make ya a deal. I'll leave ya this supply as goodwill, not a gold piece charged! But it ain't gonna be 'nough to fix even a tenth of what's busted here, or any of that crap I had to pass just gettin' here!” Mister Blasternut stated firmly, his bespectacled gaze now burning into Lady D'anthius' mask. “So I'll be here next week, with more metal for what ya need, and if ya play ya cards right, ya'll be back here next week with an actual contract that assumes I'll read it. I ain't here to bullshit, babe, so ya better not bullshit me back. 'Cause ya should know the first rule of business, Lady D'anthius:”

Jashuo took off his shades, his crimson eyes boiling into the Magistrix's mask as he leered at her.

“If we don't see eye-to-eye, there ain't even a copper to be made here outta yer Silvermoon.”

It was deathly silent as the Goblin glared at Lady D'anthius, and he was surprised in himself that he wasn't fidgeting or squirming under the collective gazes of all five Sin'dorei. Yet he managed to hold on, keeping his eyes fiercely on the woman as he waited for her response. She seemed to be scrutinizing him carefully, as if debating whether to even bother replying to him or simply sending her guards after him. Finally, after what seemed like months, she reached up to her mask to take it off softly, revealing her extremely attractive face, and very piercing green eyes burning back into Jashuo with laser focus as he was somewhat taken aback by her reaction. When she spoke, it was in a capable, natural tone of voice:

“Very well. I... graciously accept your donation, Mister...?”

“Blastanut! Mista Blastanut, please,” Jashuo smirked toothily, getting over himself as nodded in return. “I think we'll be getting 'long just fine, Lady D'anthius!”

“Then I hope that next week marks the... proper start of our agreement,” Lady D'anthius paused, then smiled as she bowed her head politely. Jashuo managed a short bow of his own back before clambering back into his Shredder and closing the lid. With a loud sigh, he felt his nerves instantly relax, but not nearly enough to stop him from making as quick of an exit as he possibly could from the city. It was only when the Shredder had turned the corner that Lady D'anthius shook her head, her captain gazing at her.

“It was probably wiser to detain him, milady,” he grunted, looking supremely tired suddenly.

“He caught our ploy. It was a mistake on our own parts, and thus should I pay the price,” the Magistrix replied, that “familiar” tone of curt politeness returning once more. “These Goblins have proven more cunning than expected: we will be smarter for next time.”

The captain looked satisfied with the answer, but as the woman placed her phoenix mask about her face, she looked back in the direction of where the Shredder had departed, and felt a soft twinge in her chest.

He was a curious one, that Blasternut...

#jaegerwrites

5 notes · View notes

bloody-fists-beating-hearts · 5 years

Text

It’s a Fallout76/Bethesda rant

Bethesda just released Fallout 1st, a horseshit pay-to-win subscription system for their absolute cum-bubble of a game, and while it’s getting the flack it deserves there are people already putting on their kneepads so they can gobble down Todd Howards entire turgid cock, and as someone who likes rpg’s way too much this irked me, so have a massive and barely coherent rant i took off the discord because why not.

I want to start off with this: Every good thing about current fallout comes from the fanbase. The stories people tell, the headcanons, the fanfics, the art, everything fans do for it is made with more love, and more thought, than anything Bethesda’s writing and games design team has done in the last 10 years

Now first of all, I haven’t bought or played 76. People are gonna stop me right there and go ”well you haven’t bought it how would you know its bad!!” yeah, I’ve never eaten dog shit either but I can pretty well guess that I ain’t gonna fucking like it.

I knew the second he said "there are no npcs" with actual enthusiasm that this game was gonna be shit. And if you give me 2 seconds to gloat, I never bought the game and I knew this was gonna happen and I was RIGHT so suck my fat hairy nuts all those fanboys who pre-order things mindlessly just because there's a brand name attached to it. If there is anything you take from this its DO NOT PREORDER. BRAND LOYALTY IS FOR BOOMERS AND BOOTLICKERS. FOR FUCKS SAKE BE SMART WITH YOUR MONEY.

Games like this are fucking 80-90 dollars or more in Australia so I actually have to think about whether this momentary distraction is worth almost an entire days paycheck, and I’m still looking for employment which means I actually haven’t bought shit in a while (side note, anyone wants to commission me for 10 dollars I’ll draw damn near anything. God I need to make rent)

Every executive at Bethesda seems to be playing catch-up to EA's monetisation scheme. Beth has abandoned their model of single-player rpg's in favour of a "games as a service" model. Fallout 76 seems to me like its a weird experiment for just how far they can stretch this and still make money. It actually makes me wonder if they are

a) just completely unaware of fanbase response [no idea HOW]

b) are running into financial problems and are doing this out of desperation

c) todd howard is still mad that obsidian made a better fallout than he ever could and he's doing this out of spite

Games as a whole has become much like the movie industry where publishers will throw big buckets of cash around to development teams, and those teams have CEO's and higher ups that throw lavish meet n greets and have nice fancy suits and cars and then treat their development teams like shit, overworking them to the point of exhaustion, because the product has to be on time for release dates that are scheduled to be the most profitable (christmas is a notable one).

And those products are consistently bland, shitty, shallow experiences. Narrative cum-dumpsters that are purposefully made to toe the line as safely as possible, to be open to as wide as an audience as possible so they can make the most money, and Bethesda is a huge offender. Skyrim was fun, sure, but it was watered down to fuck, it had shitty dialogue, it had bland one-note characters, it had a simplified skill system. It was impossible to lose. Seriously, try and fail a fucking quest in skyrim, other than one or two, it's a hand-holder of an rpg, but it has a huge community of fans that put in monumental effort, for free, because they like the Elder Scrolls, and they like the world bethesda made.

Then Bethesda goes "hey, that watered down thing we made got huge! lets release it about 12 more fucking times, with some of the SAME bugs, with the SAME content, with the SAME limitations and Yes, we absolutely expect you to pay for it, again. Then they release the remastered edition which, to their credit, is free to anyone who already bought the legendary edition (on PC), and does actually have updated 64bit capability and some graphical enhancements (that aren't anywhere near what some goober in his basement cooked up in his spare time, but whatever). Then, seeing that Skyrim was so popular, with kids especially, and made money, they turn their sights to fallout 4, a game that was so anticipated that someone made a fake countdown and caused a small meltdown on tumblr/social media when it was revealed to be fake (i was part of that fiasco, i remember the hype, i was there goddamnit)

So Fallout, a franchise that literally has its theme as its FUCKING TAGLINE, an ADULT game that is equal parts crude, gory and humorous. A game that satirises the cold war era of american my-country-tis-of-thee blind loyalty and openly mocks the way war was idealised, and shows that not even the literal end of the world could either stop humanity's lust for blood or its desire for conquest. Games that showed you the growth of the world - from shady sands to the NCR, from the vault dweller to arroyo, shit actually happened in the games, the world didn't just stop turning when the bombs dropped. A game where you you become a porn star for fucks sake, and it's funny.

So Bethesda sees that, makes something like it (fallout 3) which is good, but a little rough around the edges when you look at it too hard. But the way they suck you into the vault, the way they build a relationship with your dad and your way of life is immersive as fuck, so when you leave the place you actually feel like you're leaving something important, not just finishing the tutorial

then they outsource a Fallout game to obsidian, because hey, we saved your franchise by buying it off you, but if you can make an entire game in one year and get a metacritic score of 85 we'll even throw in a bonus. And fuck me sideways and in the ear, if the obsidian devs didn't work themselves harder than a 4-armed hooker. And they made a game that on release was a clusterfuck of bugs, because they were given an unrealistic time limit and missed the metacritic score by ONE POINT so bethesda goes "nhey heh sucks to suck" and fucks them off the franchise forever. EXCEPT (and I admit I'm biased here) the game is good. The game is actually really good when you remove those bugs, and people start forming attachments to it, and mentioning how bad fallout 3's writing is by extension.

So Todd and Co. in his infinite wisdom, decide that the only thing a fallout rpg needs is 50s aesthetic and fuck all else, and he releases a game so watered down it can't even be called an rpg. And its not. There are no skills. There are barely any dialogue checks. Instead of dialogue, Nate/Nora is a flat, samrish individual that is either "yes sir right away sir may i have another", "yes but i'm gonna make an unfunny quip about it" "this option pretends to say no but its gonna give you the quest marker anyway".

The game drops any pretence of difficulty by giving you a deathclaw, a minigun and some power armour in the first 10 minutes, allowing you to effectively reach late-game power levels with some minor scavenging for ammo or cores. Then the game ropes you into some inter-faction war that realistically you wouldn't give a shit about, because some spud in a cowboy hat fucking deputizes you into a military general because you shot like 4 raiders from a rooftop (with a minigun. in power armour. making you nigh-invulnerable to bullets). You're sad about your son about 3 times the whole game and then you're on your merry way to mowing down humans left right and center without a care in the world. God fallout 4's writing is so stupid it gives me an aneurysm.

Remember the part about resources wars and america only having the veneer of a strong country while riots, inflation, and resource shortages tore it apart from within? Bethesda doesn't, have an eerily stepford pastel coloured glimpse at a world that was totally fine, nothing wrong here, shame it got nuked oh well moving on

Your spouse? yeah you love them, they're said 2 whole sentences to you then they died, be sad because you totally loved them and it is totally sad that they are dead. Your weird play-dough son shaun, you love him so much, you even tickled him on the chin once, okay he's gone off you go to chase him - woah now, don't chase him too hard we have all these side quests for you to do! What would be the narrative reasoning for a supposedly distraught parent to fuck around boston instead of finding their goddamn child? fuck knows! just go pick up some goddamn wood and get to base building sonny-jim!

Companions? yeah, they're fun, we gave them a romance questline and it's thus: if you pick enough locks and pass a minor charisma check maccready will be ready and willing to tell you about his sick child, and then he'll ride you like a stallion. Talk to him like, 4 times, and he will be your bosom buddy for life in about 3-5 days if you just pick locks like a fucking madman, because character growth is hard and counting beans is easy.

Also your son is a part of the faction we were talking about! something about synths, remember that one questline from rivet city that barely anyone actually remembers and was an interesting time waster at best? Well get ready to do that same quest but about! 15! more! times! because we could not think of anything else to write about synthetically produced humans that assume peoples identities other than having them as a hamfisted metaphor for slavery. Why do they take over people's identies? Well because the institute needs them to aasdkfjdh kshshshsh t9oe of course.

Speaking of hamfisted metaphors, here's the underground railroad, named after the underground railroad that actually mattered, except this time its the same thing but synths. They are so top secret that the only way to find them is to follow the only bright red line in a street that is exclusively green-brown otherwise, and then enter their super secret password, which is "password"

They are then, like every other faction, absolutely willing to trust you, at face value, no questions asked, because have to actually do something or require a skill check might make this hard for people under the age of 12 to play. Then you go do whatever fuckin shit you do, I stopped playing at this point, and then you find out your son is actually 60, you guys have a tearful, 10 sentence reunion, then he diesthe whole reason you were out here in the first place dies, and you react appropriately, which is to say you say his name really sadly, and then go back to mowing down raiders with reckless abandon

And then 76 gets released, bethesda drops all pretense of fallout still being an rpg. You want a story? Fuck you, pay up. Its retro future and thats all that makes falloutSatirizing war mongering? You can nuke things in this game and its totally fine, its actually the goal, because fallout has nukes in it right? Pay us 10 dollars and you get army olive drab spraypaint because hurrgh war is fun and great, wasnt that the tagline from the first game?The more i rant the more angry i am because people put their heart and soul into writing this. The lore and dialogue is actual work that someone researched and loved and felt proud of and now it's becoming a hilariously meta parody of itself.

Honestly FUCK bethesda and and fuck todd howard for his pisspoor cash grab. Not even worth calling it a video game anymore

#good lord what is happening in there #meta #listen i fucking love fallout #but this aint fuckin it chief #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 76 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas

44 notes · View notes

thinkingoutlouddblog · 6 years

Text

The Third Floor (1/?) - b.b.

Tumblr media

Pairing: mobster!Bucky x neighbour!reader

Summary: You move to an apartment in Brooklyn seeking a fresh start, but all you get is an asshole neighbour. Little do you know, there is much more to him than meets the eye.

Warnings: none yet but there will be some in chapters to come!

A/N: Okay I have this whole series (pretty much) planned out and I’m super excited! There isn’t much mob-ishness to this chapter but trust me its coming. I have big plans! I hope you enjoy!

Tumblr media

You hadn’t always hated Bucky Barnes.

Initially, you thought he would make a good friend.

You had moved into an apartment building in Brooklyn, seeking a fresh start. You had few friends and even less family, so you figured moving somewhere new and getting a new job would be the best possible way to create a new life for yourself. One a bit brighter than what you had been living.

The trouble was you didn’t really know how to make new friends in a place where you knew no one. Sure the people at work were lovely, but you couldn’t exactly become best friends with them overnight. And you didn’t really know where else to go to make friends. At all.

It had been one of the hottest days of the year, the day you saw your opportunity.

Despite your best attempts to get the air con working, it only seemed to be wheezing mildly cooler air into apartment 31 as you unpacked the last of your boxes. Despite having kept probably less than half of your old possessions from your old apartments, you had still managed to procrastinate unpacking almost everything.

“Thank god,” you sighed to yourself as you emptied the very last box.

You wiped the sweat from your brow before flattening all of the empty boxes and gathering them all up into your arms - not wanting to have to make two trips up and down the stairs to get to the recycling bin. Sadly for you, the elevator in your new apartment seemed to be constantly in and out of service, even in the limited two weeks you had been there.

You had been nearly running down the stairs, trying to reach the recycling bin before half the boxes slipped out of your grasp when you saw him, marching up the stairs with two boxes in arms looking infinitely more graceful than you currently did.

You didn’t even get to see his face as you continued speeding down the stairs, walking as close to the wall as possible to avoid running straight into him.

It wasn’t until you made it back up the stairs, having had to pick all your boxes back up after dropping them just a few feet away from your destination, that you got your first good look at James Buchanan Barnes. He was just exiting apartment 32, closing the door of the only other apartment on your floor, floor three.

His hair was pulled back into a bun, with a few strands of hair framing his face. He was dressed casually, in a navy blue shirt and jeans. His eyes widened slightly as he turned from his door to make his way back down the stairs, presumably to get more boxes, and locked eyes with you.

His blue eyes felt as though they were piercing you as the both of you just stood there for a short moment, and your heartbeat accelerated involuntarily, somehow more heat rising to your cheeks than was already present.

The moment was quickly broken, however, as he averted his gaze and continued his path back towards the stairs before you had the opportunity to formulate something to say.

As he thundered down the stairs, clearly in a rush to get moved in, you walked back into your own apartment, thinking to yourself.

Here was your opportunity.

Here was your opportunity to make friends. You clearly had common ground. You two were both new, maybe you could be in it together. Learning the area together. Both having the comfort of someone who is in the same boat as you. You could help him get settled in. Maybe he’d have friends he could introduce you to. Before you’d know it, maybe you’d have a whole group of friends, and stop leaning so heavily on Natasha, your best (and pretty much only) friend for social support.

It also didn’t hurt that he was one of the more attractive men you’ve come across in your life.

So, the morning after he moved in you got ready for work half an hour early, with the intention of having a quick chat with your new neighbour on your way out. Just a friendly greeting letting him know who you were. That was all you had in mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, before you knocked twice on his door. There was a long pause, and just as you raised your hand to knock again the door swung open revealing the brown-haired man you had seen in passing the day before.

He looked to be getting ready to go to work himself, with his dress shirt only half buttoned up and waiting to be tucked into his pants.

For a moment you said nothing, just standing there with your mouth half open. There was something about him that caused this particular pull in your chest, you just couldn’t quite place it.

“Can I help you?” He finally broke the silence, scowl on his face.

“Oh yes, sorry! I’m Y/N, I live in the other apartment on this floor, just across the hall,” you extend a hand for him to shake as you speak.

He does nothing but look at it and give you a one word reply of, “Bucky,” by way of introduction.

You refused to be put off by his cold demeanour, powering through and attempting to break the ice. “I’m so sorry to disturb you without any warning, especially when you seem to be getting ready to go to work but I just wanted to say that I’m new here too. I moved in only a couple weeks before you did.”

“And?”

You blinked rapidly, becoming increasingly irked by his cold (lack of) manners.

I’m sure he’s just having an off day, you thought to yourself. I did come over here uninvited while he’s clearly in a rush.

“Well I just thought since we’re both new around here, maybe we could stick together as we get to know the area. I’ll be honest I don’t have a lot of friends around here and so I thought since you might be in the same boat,” you smiled at him, hoping to break his expression of distaste.

“I have plenty of friends thank you. I certainly don’t need you as one,” he rolled his eyes.

Before you could react to his harsh words, your mouth falling open in shock, he had turned his back and slammed his door behind him.

By the time you reached work fifteen minutes later, your cheeks were still flaming with anger and embarrassment.

Tumblr media

Two days later, somehow, you were on your way back to his apartment.

The thought of giving into the temptation of hating Bucky was enticing, but you pushed it aside. You had clearly caught him at a bad time. Sure it didn’t really warrant that reaction but everyone has said stuff they don’t mean in an off moment. You were sure he regretted it and was just too ashamed to face you.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had many other options in the way of making friends.

Your best friend Natasha was a workaholic, working for a prestigious criminal law firm, so she didn’t exactly have the time to be maintaining friendships. Like she was all you had, you were pretty much all she had. This, however, did not bother Natasha as it did you.

So after two days of cooling off, you decided to give Bucky a second chance. As some kind of peace offering you baked a batch of cupcakes, iced them a happy yellow colour, hoping it would brighten his mood, and carried them carefully to his apartment Saturday morning (praying to God he didn’t work weekends so you wouldn’t catch him at a bad time again).

After taking a deep breath, trying once again to steel your nerves, you knocked twice on his door. Seconds later, the door swung open. This time, you were greeted with a smile and a laugh.

Off to a better start already, you thought to yourself.

He was in grey sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt, clearly demonstrating you had caught him at a much better time. His shoulders were relaxed as he laughed, but you should have noticed immediately how little the smile truly extended.

“You just don’t know when to give up do you, doll?”

The smile that had crept up your own lips halted as you took in his demeanour. He crossed his arms over his chest, and you quickly noticed how his smile appeared more as a mocking smirk.

“I just thought I’d caught you at a bad time the other day so-“

“Yes,” he cut you off, “you certainly did catch me at a bad time the other day but that’s not the way I politely told you to fuck off.” The smirk never left his face, taunting you with the amusement he took from dashing your hopes of ever making friends. “I tried to make the message clear then, but I’ll make it very plain now. I don’t want the friendship of the sad, lonely, little girl who can’t make any friends for herself. I don’t want to sleep with you either if that’s what you’ve really been coming over here for. And I certainly don’t want your fucking cupcakes.”

Your blood boiled at his every word, and rather than trying to push it aside, you focused solely on your anger, feeling it as wholly as you could. God knows if you didn’t all you would feel was the hurt and embarrassment his words caused.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, but you were quick in your reaction.

“Oh,” you maintained a calm demeanour, despite how you truly felt. “You don’t want my cupcakes?”

Before he could say a word, you picked one up off the plate and shoved it straight into his face.

“Tough shit, asshole.”

Bucky stood there in shock, yellow frosting smeared over half of his face but you just turned your back and raised a single middle finger in his direction as you walked back down the hall.

The satisfaction you felt lasted a solid fifteen minutes before the sting of his words became more and more prominent.

At first you were laughing to yourself at not only the boldness of your actions but the look on his previously smug face as the cupcake dropped from his face to the floor, leaving a trail of frosting in its wake. But soon your laugh faded, and the energy in your step faded as you paced the apartment.

Sad, lonely, little girl. His words replayed in your head. Can’t make any friends for yourself.

His words shouldn’t matter to you. They shouldn’t. He was just a bitter asshole who didn’t know you. But for some reason, it felt like he did know you. Or at least you knew him.

You shook your head at yourself. He didn’t know you at all. But the truth to his words cut you where it hurt most. Angry, hurt tears sprung to your eyes and you wiped them furiously. Not wanting to shed tears over someone who was clearly not worth your time.

The truth was, however, the tears were not just for him. It was for how alone you felt in every aspect of your life. You knew no one, no one but Nat and you couldn’t help but feel completely lost.

As you grabbed one of the cupcakes you had put so much care and effort into, the tears finally won out as you shoved it into your mouth.

This would be the last breakdown, you told yourself as you relished in your emotions. Starting tomorrow, you’re a whole new, stronger person.

Tumblr media

You did pretty well at keeping your promise to yourself.

First thing the next morning, you called Nat and demanded she go to lunch with you. “Don’t give me the work excuse, Nat. Even lawyers should get to take Sunday off,” you had told her.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I just-“

“Nope! No excuses. You work yourself too hard, Nat. You’re worrying me,” you lost your joking tone on the last sentence.

Yes, you did just want to catch up with your best friend. But also, you wanted her to take a break and stop working so hard.

There was a deep sigh over the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll see you in two hours.”

You cheered to yourself, happy to be leaving your apartment for something that wasn’t work.

Two and a half hours later, you and Natasha were chatting away over lunch when you decided to tell her about your new neighbour.

You spared no details, but spun everything to be some huge comedy to you, making light of the situation and hoping it would make you feel better about the whole thing.

“And then he says,” you laugh, getting ready to dive into your mocking imitation of Bucky, ‘“I don’t wanna be friends with a sad lonely little girl who can’t make friends for herself.’”

“He really said that?” Nat winced, seemingly failing to find the humour in your comedic masterpiece that was the retelling of an awful story.

“Yes he really said that, but just wait for the real kicker,” you said, getting excited for your grand finale, “he told me, like the unappreciative bastard he is, that he didn’t want my cupcakes. So I grabbed one off the tray and I smashed it into his face.”

Nat nearly choked on the sip of coffee she had been drinking.

At first you thought maybe she disapproved, and you began to reconsider your actions. Maybe you had taken it too far.

That is, until, Natasha dissolved into laughter.

“Oh my god, I’ve never been prouder of you!” she cried in between laughs, you yourself soon laughing along with her.

That afternoon you went home, still smiling to yourself some hours later. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Nat that happy.

Tumblr media

You officially hated Bucky Barnes.

It was 7AM on a Saturday morning, two weeks exactly since the fateful cupcake incident, and you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts, the music blasting out of his apartment was so loud.

It had been a busy week for you at work, working hard to prove your worth in your new position in a week that was already flat out and now, on your weekend, all you wanted to do was sleep. Which was, sadly, hard to do when all you could hear was the banging of drums and shredding of guitars in whatever heavy-metal screamo song Bucky was playing for, probably, no particular reason other than to piss you off.

Honestly, you had barely seen in him in the two weeks since you had shoved that yellow frosted cupcake into his face, but on the occasions you had crossed paths, you had both given and received the meanest glares of your life. Never missing the muttered, “bitch,” under his breath following your mumbled “asshole”. Unlike two weeks ago, his words just rolled off your back like the rain now. Which is why, in this moment, you were not afraid to storm on over to his apartment and tell him to shut the hell up.

So that’s exactly what you did.

Hair a mess, still wearing your pyjamas (and certainly not your less embarrassing ones, either) you stomped on out of your apartment and over to Bucky’s, arriving at his front door in a huff.

Once more, you knocked (or rather slammed) on his front door twice, ensuring you were more than loud enough for him to hear you. You were almost going to slam your fist against the door once more before the door opened, just slightly, the door chain only allowing the tiniest opening for you to see Bucky’s face through.

“What the hell do you want this time?” Bucky sneered, as though it wasn’t obvious.

“First of all, I want you to lose the attitude. Secondly, I want you to turn this god awful music off or at the very least turn it down. Significantly,” you smiled sarcastically.

“Well since you asked so nicely…” he fawned contemplation of your request, “no can do.” He mimicked your sarcastic smile.

Just as you opened your mouth, ready to fire off a rebuttal, he slammed the door in your face.

You groaned angrily, quickly smashing your fist against the door as though it would cause him to change his mind.

He only turned the music up louder.

You just shook your head and stormed right on back to your room, burying your head underneath a pile of pillows in an attempt to muffle the noise.

Bucky, on the other hand, smiled to himself upon the door being shut before strolling casually back to his living room.

“So where were we?” He asked his guest, a glint in his eye.

Tumblr media

A/N: Please give me some feedback! It’s been a while since I’ve sat down and written something (and even longer since I wrote a bucky fic) so any feedback would be wonderful!

My inbox /// my masterlist

92 notes · View notes

a-scattered-memory · 6 years

Text

Desideration

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Words: 3,967

Summary: You and Bakugou end up wandering around together on an overnight trip and Bakugou finally end up confessing his long time feelings for you.

“How about this then,” Mina chimed as the rest of class 1-A turned their attention away from arguing their own suggestions and towards their bubbly classmate, “We’ll split the class into two groups decided by what side of the building their room is on. Then, the two sides will go against each other in an arm wrestling tournament and the losers have to clean up! Fair?”

It was the end of your first year together as class 1-A of the hero course in UA and as was tradition in UA, the school had taken the year on a overnight trip to a quiet hostel in the country to celebrate. All students were welcome to dress up nicely for the evening and all the food and entertainment was organised by the teachers and classes themselves but that also meant it was their responsibility to clean up before they went back to their rooms or whatever else they had planned for the night.

You had spent most of the night laughing and joking and chatting with your classmates and even some of the other class’s students too but now suddenly half of those comrades had been turned into your enemies, including one of your closest friends Kirishima who now just smirked playfully from across the new split in your class group at you and your other joint friend Bakugou.

Said joint friend, however, made no effort to reflect the spirit as he slid his fisted hands into his dress pant pockets and scowled, unamused at the pointless ‘challenge’ he was being forced into.

“Tch, dragging it out like this is dumb as shit. Just leave it to the other classes or leave me out, I didn’t even want to be here in the first place,” he grumbled to you as you both made your way to the team huddle your group was now forming. To his credit, he had stayed out the entire night though he only really interacted with the people within your class. He had enjoyed himself throughout it though, you had seen it in his eyes even if he’d never voice it openly here. You could also see it in him now that he was tired, and when he gets tired you knew from experience that that fuse of his gets shorter and shorter.

“C’mon, it’s only another five minutes either way. Do you honestly think our team is seriously going to do the work themselves even if we do lose?” You chuckled as you gestured to the others who were forming your little group. Kaminari, Jirou, Mina, Hagakure, Sero, Sato, Aoyama and Iida. Okay Iida definitely would but there’s no way he could take you all alive with him.

“Whatever, we better win.” His only reply as he sized up the competition in their own huddle on the other side of that imaginary boundary.

Iida took it upon himself as class rep to set up the table for the match so that he could “ensure there was no foul play” all while his team mutually agreed to leg it the moment things turned for the worst for you all.

Thankfully, both you and Bakugou won your matches for your team against Todoroki and Asui respectively and of course it came down to the last match as the tie breaker. And of course neither team hesitated to jump in and help their representative while maybe giving them an extra hand using their quirks (everyone except Iida at which your whole team screamed in protest as they struggled. He eventually caved and joined you all, citing all the existing cheating as justification for him to intervene although he made sure it was very clear that he was neither proud nor happy about it). It actually looked like it would be a stalemate until Uraraka managed to make enough of your team weightless that you no longer had the strength to push on.

As your team’s fist was pushed against the surface of the table and cheers erupted from the opposing team, your team took advantage of the commotion to flee as fast as you all could from the moment Mina shouted the word “Run!”.

Bakugou had already decided win or lose that be wasn’t staying for whatever was after and had promptly started grumbling back to his room, slightly hunched over, not completely unaffected by his team’s loss. You weren’t going to allow your friend to retire just yet when there was more fun to be had, especially since it’d be a good while until you were all back together again as a class. You turned and jogged backwards as you passed him by so that you were still facing him, at which he quirked an eyebrow, his irked expression remaining.

“They’re going to catch you and make you clean if you keep up that pace.” Your smart quip was accompanied by a contrasting soft smile and jerk of your head backwards, gesturing for him to join you.

“Oh yeah?! I’d like to see them try-,” he raised his voice but you had already decided for him that he was coming with you and he could yell at you for it all he wanted later. He had barely finished his protest when you grabbed his wrist and started running forward again, the other half of your class beginning their hunt behind you.

“Hey, what the hell?!” He yelled this time and yet he made no effort to pull away from you.

“We both know you have no problem dealing with them upfront, but this way’s more fun.” You flashed him a smile to which he just averted his gaze, his countenance gradually softening from his previously irritated expression to his plain, usual visage.

Your team had split up within the hostel building and you and Bakugou were now wandering the halls together. Iida had surrendered himself the moment he lost, left unaware of his team’s ulterior motives and so had betrayed you all to help the other team seek you all out. This, of course, made it extra difficult for you to run and so you opted to hide to prevent you both from being caught. You still had to keep up a slight jog though as you tried handle after handle of the rooms you passed, praying that one had accidentally been left unlocked.

Bakugou had still been following behind you, watching you silently as you led the way through the corridors. When he realised himself how fixated his gaze had become on you, his eyes narrowed and jaw and fist clenched, a state he had wound up in all too commonly this past while. His exasperation was never directed at you though, only himself. He had started feeling something for you longer ago than he’d cared to admit but he kept telling himself that he came to UA to become the best hero ever to walk this damn planet, not for some dumbass romance crap. And yet no matter how many times he pushed you to the back of his mind or attempted to extinguish those feelings with both ire and the constant chanting of his dream that echoed in his mind, those feelings lingered and made their persistent presence painfully obvious whenever you were close (which, to both his dismay and contentment, was quite often), and thoughts and daydreams of how some moments would play out if you were there with him replaced you in his mind when you weren’t.

And now here he was, trailing after you in an empty corridor, speechless and unable to take his eyes off you now that the had a chance to properly take in just how well that gold attire you had chosen complimented your skin tone, how the style perfectly suited your body as if it were made for you. How that stupid amazing smile you wore, even if you didn’t think it was perfect, had a way of lifting his mood every time you offered him one. How those dumb eyes twinkled with joy and sparkled with playfulness and liveliness as wonderfully as the gold you wore, if not more so. And still he wouldn’t trust himself to hold the gaze of those eyes for more than three seconds if you turned to face him right now.

He had fallen for it all, and he had no clue what to do about it anymore. You with your stupid smile and your dumb eyes and that sickeningly amazing character of yours were single handedly causing him to unravel bit by bit, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. His face contorted into a scornful sneer and he tutted as he realised he was doing this shit again

“Something up?” you called to him, your attention still fixed on each passing door. He was snapped from his inner scolding at the sound of your voice and glanced your way only to almost immediately turn his attention elsewhere, chin slightly elevated, still scowling from before.

“If something doesn’t happen in this shitty game soon, I’m going to bed.” An on-the-spot excuse, but thankfully a believable one.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, your smile slightly diminished, tilting your head back over one shoulder a little to catch him before you continued. “No action in the next five minutes and I won’t-”. For the first time since you had started venturing the halls together a handle finally pushed all the way down and the door opened a creak. You threw him a smug side-eyed smirk and quirked an eyebrow at which he scoffed in response.

“Don’t even start.” Both of your heads’ suddenly jerked down the end of the hall you had just come at the sound of running. That could either be a friend or an enemy but either way you weren’t going to be alone for much longer. You turned to face him quickly, hand still wrapped around the door handle. You knew there was only so much you could push of Bakugou, no matter who you were.

“Stay out here and get caught or go to your room if you want, but I’m-”

“Like hell am I about to just let myself get caught after you dragged me this far,” he cut in, taking a hold of your free wrist and tugging you into the dim room with him briskly so as to avoid being seen. You barely managed to shut the door after you with an audible thud and you couldn’t help but curse at yourself.

“Nice job, idiot,” he jabbed in a quieted tone and you only squished the hand you now hurriedly dragged him by to the other side of the room as a retort. You both crouched behind the bed there as you waited for the threat to either (if they had a set of functioning ears) investigate or pass by.

Only moments later did the door to the room crack open and you both ducked completely out of vision. What you missed however, was the view that person still had of your reflections' in the mirror on the wall, barely visible due to the lack of light. Bakugou didn't miss it though and his eyes met a pair of crimson ones through the mirror. Kirishima.

The scout made to turn on the lights until he caught a glimpse of you behind Bakugou's figure and smirked wickedly. Shooting him a knowing look as he held his best friend's gaze through the glass, he feigned ignorance and left you both alone again. From the other side of the shut door you could now hear Kirishima call out to the others that whoever it was must've gotten away and continued down the hall.

“Wow, talk about a close one.” You let out a sigh of relief as though you had been holding your breath the entire time. You stretched a little and brushed at your clothes as Bakugou remained silent and watched absentmindedly, torn on what his next action should be.

He knew exactly why Kirishima had done that, the little shit. He had confided in his friend before about what he felt towards you when Kirishima had casually broached the topic, claiming it was obvious to him at least. Bakugou was many things but not a liar and he certainly remained true to his thoughts and feelings and so he didn't deny the query. Even he himself had been surprised at how mellow he was when the conversation arose. Perhaps he really had wanted to share this problem with someone all along but could never bring himself to do it. And of course, Kirishima being Kirishima, he was all too happy to hear him out and give him whatever advice he could. After all, Kirishima was that bit closer with both of you than you were with each other so maybe he'd have a better, unclouded view on it all. Though he couldn't say for certain how you felt about Bakugou, they had decided that day that it would be better off if Bakugou told you the truth if those feelings couldn't be subdued. And although he was less than enthusiastic about that idea coming into fruition any time soon, the more it interfered with his concentration as of late the more he realised he needed the clarity for his own peace of mind more than anything.

And it was for that reason (and partially due to the fact that he'd probably never live it down when Kirishima found out he'd let the perfect opportunity go) that he let out a sharp but almost pleeing “wait” when he reached out and latched onto your wrist as you made to rise.

You turned to face him with a small surprise expression and raised an eyebrow, growing slightly concerned at how uncharacteristic of him that was. “What’s the matter? I thought we should get going while the going's good?”.

Your steady gaze was piercing, crushing in the moment as he could almost feel it trying to discern his motives through his own eyes. If nothing else he was grateful that the only source of light was the soft glow of the moon that filtered through the glass doors further behind you both, though he was tempted to curse it all the same for how it fell on your face just right so as to illuminate your features, accentuating how beautiful they were to him even more than previously god help him.

You hesitated as his jaw tightened and his eyebrows furrowed, the silence lasting longer than you were both comfortable with. “Hey, are you alright?”. Your voice and demeanour softened as you actually started to properly worry for him and you sank back down to your knees beside him again facing him fully this time. His hand was still subconsciously wrapped around your wrist and you noted how it tightened ever so slightly as the words fell from your lips. He was frustrated at himself, now more than any of the other days he had let it go because he knew he wouldn't see an opportunity as perfect as this for a long time if ever again and he still couldn't bring himself to say it. Him. The loudmouthed, brash, abrasive boy from Class 1-A and he couldn't so much as utter the handful of words he had thought mulled over over and over waiting for right this moment. And now here you were getting all worried and shit with that stupid look in your eyes that made him hate his current state even more.

When you still didn't get a response you slid your hand into his that was enclosed around your wrist and made to rise again, attempting to pull him up gently with you this time.

“I'm sorry, I wouldn't have dragged you along all this time if I had known something was-"

“I like you.”

Your apology was swiftly cut off by words that Bakugou couldn't seem to get out fast enough. His eyes scanned your face desperately for any reaction that gave away how you were feeling. He didn't dare do so much as open his mouth, only wait for the response he had for so long anticipated, that had plagued his mind for far longer than he should have allowed it to. After a few seconds of silence, a small, gentle smile that still held an air of uncertainty about it formed on your lips.

“Thanks for reminding me, I was getting worried,” you laughed dryly.

No. No you weren't getting it and Kirishima had said that as much would happen. He'd said how Bakugou would practically have to spell it out to you if he wanted to get the message across properly, otherwise you wouldn't trust yourself to believe it meant anything as significant as it really did.

“N-no, shit, (y/n) it's not like that dumbass, it's-,” Bakugou clenched his jaw once more and closed his eyes in exasperation. He pressed his free palm to his forehead, letting his fingers claw through his hair. “What the hell do you want me to say.”

“Only what you mean.” Your tone was even and unwavering, low but reassuring, that you'd hear him out with whatever he came out with next as long as it came from him.

“Fine.” The reply came as if it was almost defiant. The corner of his mouth twitched and he took in a single breath before continuing, eyes still shut and palm still pressed to his forehead that was creased by his furrowed brows, as if it offered him some sort of relief under the pressure of it all. His tone shifted to something that bordered on tiredness and almost sounded like he couldn't care less even as he was about to pour his heart out. “You're messing me up and I'm not takin’ it like this anymore.

“I can't get your stupid face out of my head and that annoying voice won't shut the hell up either. What gives you the fucking right to be so smart and pretty and strong and badass like it's nobody's damn business. How the hell do you expect me to not fall for you. How the hell do you expect me to stay focused on becoming the number one hero when I thought I was so fuckin’ sure of everything I’ve ever wanted up 'til now. I really wish I didn't give a shit but I do and it's-”

Bakugou was cut short from what had become mindless, unrestrained rambling of the true thoughts and emotions he had kept pent up inside him for so long by your soft lips on his. You intertwined your fingers with his in the hand you held and you rested the other gently around the nape of his neck. Bakugou tensed initially and his eyes shot open wide and incredulous but only moments later did his previous glower melt away as he eased into the welcome touch, tightening his fingers in response to your own. The hand that had been pressed to his forehead now found its way to the back of your head and you could feel how light and unsure the gesture was.

You had understood enough what Bakugou's true intentions were and how much turmoil he had been in. You had wanted to save him from himself as he could no longer register exactly what he was confessing to you and you could think of no better response to properly convey your feelings back to him and ease his heart and mind than this. Still, you couldn't get over how heartbreakingly tender his lips were on yours as they moulded together and you hated the moment that you both parted.

Both of your breathing was fast and your heart beat hard in your chest as you both stayed there before each other in a comfortable silence in the moments after, a matching rosy hue gracing both of your faces.

“I wanted to do that at least once,” your voice was still a little breathless. Your lips curled into a sweet smile and your hand slid from the nape of his neck to lie on his shoulder, holding his gaze. His expression became complicated again, sorry even as he broke it once he registered your words. He realised his hand still cradled your head and promptly removed it and rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort though he made no such move to break the hands you were joined together by.

“Look, y/n, I know what I just said, -and I meant it all, alright- , but-”

“But we can't be anything right now, right?” His eyes met yours as soon as you spoke his mind, searching yours for some understanding. You tried to offer him some comfort with an understanding smile however it you couldn't stop the slight apologeticness of your expression from reaching it. “We both came here to become heroes, right? That's what's most important right now, and we can't let anything distract from that goal. I feel the same way.” You nodded to support your words and although it may have seemed like Bakugou had remained indifferent, you copped how the reassurance he felt was given away.

“I’m not gonna pretend we can just leave here and pretend nothing happened though,” he added, more relaxed and clear-headed than he had been in a long while, a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“I know that too,” you huffed in amusement, “so how about maybe we don't pretend nothing happened, we just don't become anything ‘official’ yet?” You made air quotation marks at the word official. Having a 'dating’ status brought far more trouble with it than you both needed at this moment in time and there was less of an obligation on you two to do couple things without the title. However, that didn't mean you couldn't acknowledge what there was between you in a more casual, low-key way. Maybe it would end up being pretty much the same as dating but without the dates and the pda, who knows, but you both agreed that you felt more comfortable with things this way.

Bakugou didn't reply but that small smile he hid with a smirk told you enough. You could see it in his eyes too, the pride and the satisfaction he couldn't hide.

“Those idiots are probably going out of their mind by now.” Without warning, he rose from his place on the ground and hauled you up with him as he tugged the hand he grasped, your fingers tightly interlaced. He didn't look you in the eye as you walked alongside him hand in hand and you couldn't help but smile affectionately at him as you noticed the genuine smile winning over the smirk on his face. You leaned in to walk closer to him and he didn't shrug away in the slightest. It would stay that way for as long as it took before you encountered someone, you knew, but you didn't care.

“So, tell me more about how I’m “messing you up”,” you teased, breaking the silence that had settled. Bakugou's smile quickly transformed into a murderous smirk and his expression became an amalgamation of irritation and embarrassment at every thought and emotion he had laid bare without a second thought and he squeezed your hand, outright refusing to look you in the eyes now.

“Don't. Start,” he managed to get out through the gritted teeth of his smirk while one of his eyes twitched. You chuckled as you left the room and began to wander the halls again, side by side this time. It was your turn to fix your gaze elsewhere now.

“I would have given myself up if you had left you know.”

“Then you're an idiot.”

But the hand that clasped tighter onto yours, subconsciously or not, was answer enough.

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #this got super indulgent in places #i also kinda go with the thought that bakugou woukdnt date until like 3rd year maybe #because of the reason i used #also had to get my kirishima in there #my writing #ill take bakugou requests if anyone has any #also i am so sorry if the read more doesnt work #im on mobile and nothing i was doing seemes to work #bakugou

112 notes · View notes

stuttermutter · 6 years

Text

Imprisoned by sexuality

I am sick of attraction. I don’t want any part of it. It is overwhelming. I don’t know about these desires in women, but men, I think, have it really tough. I know this sounds unsocial or anti-societal, but sometimes, just sometimes, I sympathize with my not-so-well-behaved brethren. Especially when women dress with the almost explicit intention of showing or alluding what their flesh would look like if it were naked. I’m scared I’ll rape someone in the future. I’m scared that even when I’m old enough to be considered a father figure to some women, I’ll probably only look at them through my penis.

When I was younger, maybe about fifteen-sixteen, I had thought that I should prepare for the crest of hormone tsunami by building the habit of ‘non-noticing’ hot women. I’d gotten quite good at it actually. My friends even remarked how ascetic I had become, thinking me insane. But inside, I tried to stifle those forlorn feelings of pain knowing I’d probably never see a beautiful woman quite like that again, much less have any kind of contact.

Over the years as college passed, I don’t know, I lost it. I became more impulsive in many areas of my life and let other activity-interests die out, and now I’m a lecher, at least that’s how I see myself. It’s a very strong possibility that my growing incessant marijuana use led to this. Most of my low points everyday consist of the shame that pours over me when the woman/girl I’ve ogling looks back at me, startled and probably disgusted. Sorry.

In this failed bid to attain moksha from attraction, I had ceased to attempt to build close relations (friendship and beyond) with any humans of the opposite gender. In this endeavor I was successful, in that all my old friendships starved and died while none new took their place. But something strange happened because of this. Some how it affected my psyche. It increased my virility tenfold. I have spent a significant portion of the years gone by, furiously masturbating, sometimes charged by just a single brief encounter or conversation or fleeting eye contact. It’s sad.

In college I read a psychology book whose title I can’t recall, but it was about suppression. Thought suppression, specifically. It’s main axiom was that any ‘thought’ that was intentionally attempted to be suppressed by the subject was an exercise in futility. Something about the subconscious being the main (hidden) driver of consciousness which meant that every thought or feeling that did ‘come up’ had to be processed/accepted/digested in some way. But I must warn you, that over indulging in this processing (holding on to that feeling or thought) as I did after reading that book, is just as bad if not worse. Also, I discovered that whichever thoughts I did try to suppress, especially those about many of the crushes I’ve had, would later appear in my dreams. And I would feel like shit after waking up for some time, but the best part about dreams is that they disintegrate soon after so at least that visual imagery of your lost love won’t stay. But, what does stay is that feeling of missing that person, which I don’t know what to do about.

Okay so suppressing internally in the mind space is not the only (exhaustive) solution, but I’m sure in conjunction with other methods such as distraction (that is, diverting attention to other things such as work, hobbies, or addictions. Of course I’ve abused the latter to my detriment.) and growing some kind of self-instilled fear of sexual experience have helped me to some extent.

One thing I would not recommend is physically separating yourself from groups of humans you might be attracted to. I went to a college which was very male skewed in population, thinking that it would help me focus on studying/finding my purpose/working. What happened was that I got attracted to quite a few women there whom I wouldn’t have looked at twice if I were in a normal college. My ‘standards’ had actually lowered. Animal adaptation. Natural, really. But, after leaving college, whenever I meet by chance any good looking woman, I help but act cold and tensed (my mind seizes) when she faces me and can’t help but look at her crotch when I’m behind her back.

I wish I wasn’t like this. I’ve read a (hopefully) scientific study which said that as men get older, sexual desire drops after the thirties significantly, more than women even. I hope that happens soon. I’m tired of this.

Yesterday, I was visiting my friend’s home to watch a football match, and his sister had some friends over for home work or something. One of her friends was absolutely sexy and stunning. Lovely face, welcoming eyes, fair smooth skin, dark shiny hair, tall, thick in all the right places. I love it when women wear their jeans a little too tight, so that when they stand up after sitting, a little flesh just hangs out that they cover by pulling their pants up. Agh, why did I look at her. And in that instant that I entered the room with my friends, I had to steal a glance at her (because even in my peripheral vision I could tell she was heartbreakingly hot), and she looked at me, straight into my eyes. Why oh why. And then I spent most of the time trying to sneakingly peek at her from the hall, while simultaneously harboring jealousy for her awesome handsome male friend.

The fact that I did not/could not date a girl when I was growing up in my teens still irks me. That’s why she got me yesterday. Fuck it, I’ll say it. I fantasize about fucking a fifteen to eighteen year old girl. Being her first fuck. I’ll probably sexually assault/force myself on some poor hot girl(s) at some point in the future, especially if I gain social power/authority.

Ugh. Save me, I must somehow.

#desire #sexuality #frustation #loneliness #animal nature #masculinity #fantasy #trapped #sexsexsex #themonsterinside

3 notes · View notes

milliejenkins · 3 years

Text

Solo #20

*BANG BANG BANG*

The thumping in my head doesn’t let up. If anything it has gotten worse in the last ten minutes and is the reason that I’m now awake. Each thud causes me to wince in physical pain and I can honestly say it feels like the sound is reverberating around my entire apartment.

“EMILIA!” My eyes fly open at the sound of his voice and I lay perfectly still which only causes the banging to get louder every time his fist connects with my front door “EMILIA! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” I don’t want to see anyone, especially not him. The turn of events last night have left me wanting to stay here in my pit, wallow in self pity and eat ice cream, all day. Though my body clearly has other ideas and instantly responds, not only to his voice, but also to the thought of him being on the other side of the door.

I reach over to the empty half of the bed and grab the pillow, bringing it down on my face to shut out the sound of him, and immediately regret it. The familiar scent, one I’ve come to know and love, of Wes’s aftershave floods my nose, inciting a frustrated whimper and an electric current to go straight between my legs.

“I’LL WAIT HERE ALL DAMN DAY IF I HAVE TO.”

“Shit.” I curse under my breathe and remove the pillow from my face at the same moment my body betrays me completely. The ache in my core is now stronger than the throbbing pain in my head but I try my hardest to ignore it because sex is not on the cards today.

I know Wes is irked. That’s more than apparent by the tone of voice he’s using, but so am I. Last night wasn’t supposed to go like that. He was supposed to be on business. I’d assumed he’d meant business out of the city. It hadn’t occurred to me he’d meant business in one of his clubs … not that he needed to explain to me.

I’d rejected every single call that came in after I’d left Alpha Club which no doubt pissed him off even more. And now he was at my door with no intention of leaving until we’d spoken.

Admitting defeat, I hold my delicate head and climb from the warmth of my sheets, grabbing the first shirt that comes to hand and cautiously head to the door that is temporarily separating us. I place my hand on the lock just as the banging commences again and quickly pull the door open “Enough already.”

The relief that passes across his face is fleeting. So much so that if I had blinked, I would have missed it.

“Where the fuck have you been? You didn’t answer any of my calls .. I’ve been going out of my mind.” He pushes past me and storms through to the living room as he rants which infuriates me. I slam my front door and stomp after him, completely ready for this argument.

“No! You don’t get to show up here and start yelling at me, Wes. I’m mad at you!” Stopping in front of him, my finger pokes at his chest while I yell my words and then I back off.

“Emilia, you’re mad at me for something I had no control over. I told you last night, I didn’t know she was going to be there.” He gives an exasperate sigh, those eyes never leaving mine “Tasha never comes to the club and I wasn’t expecting last night to be any different.” He takes a step toward me and I feel my anger subsiding slightly. “But I’m sorry.” My eyes drop to the ground only to rise back up when Wes places a finger under my chin to lift it “I’m sorry I unknowingly put you in that situation.”

“Ok. Thank you.” If he’s telling the truth, which I suspect he is, I can’t be mad at him. That would just be unreasonable. I offer a small smile which is returned and he leans in to press his lips to my forehead.

My eyes travel down to a bag he’s holding when the smell of something sweet tickles my nose “What’s in there?”

He laughs softly, holding up the offering “I thought you might need food and it’s your birthday so I got us some pancakes and -” My eyes widen and I take a step back, clamping my hand over my mouth.

“It’s my birthday!” I grab his wrist to check his watch, cursing at the time. “Shit! I’m going to be late!” I drop his hand and rush to the bathroom to survey the damage, outwardly groaning at the sight of myself. My hair looks like a birds nest and the remnants of last nights makeup are less than attractive. How Wes has kept a straight face while talking to me is anyones guess.

“Late for what?” He appears in the doorway, watching in amusement while I freshen myself up as best possible in an attempt to make myself look the tiniest bit presentable.

“It’s a thing. A birthday thing I do every year.” I rush past him to my room and grab the first pair of pants that come to hand, slipping them in place then practically push him out the door he only walked through minutes a go, locking it behind me. “I’ll call you later ok?”

I don’t get a response, instead I turn and slam into Wes solid chest, stopping in my tracks. He looks down at me, his brow furrowed and he grabs my wrist, eyeing my car keys in hand “I know you’re not thinking about driving to wherever it is you need to be. You’re still over the limit.”

I roll my eyes even though I know he’s right. I can practically smell the alcohol seeping from the pours of my body. “Fine. I’ll get a taxi.”

“No, my car’s parked out front, I’ll drive you.” He takes my keys from me, before I can argue, and pockets them, then starts walking out of the building. He briefly looks back at me with a grin on his face, while I trot behind him protesting every stop of the way.

Wes wasn’t lying. His car really is parked right out front of the entrance to my building, exactly where it shouldn’t be, and I reluctantly climb in, huffing when my ass connects with the seat “You don’t even know where I’m going, or who I’m meeting.”

Wes takes his seat and looks over at me, placing a hand on my thigh and squeezing as he smiles big and starts the engine “Well, lets hope you’re good at giving directions then and that who ever you’re meeting doesn’t mind me coming along.”

0 notes

riverdalefiction · 7 years

Text

your sacred stars won’t be guiding you

Summary: Jughead and Betty try to mend their relationship while solving the problems in their own lives, nine years after solving the case of Jason Blossom’s murder. It doesn’t help that the demons of one become demons of another until they’re fighting for their lives.

Genre: General, Canon Divergent, Angst, Hurt, Thriller, Future Fic, Romance, Action

Pairing: Betty x Jughead

Timeline: Post Season one

Word count: 4,529

Part two of oh lazarus, were you so afraid

PREVIOUSLY: Jughead has a meeting with his boss, while trying not to think of certain things from his past - or his past, in general.

A dog growls when Toni breaks the news to him. It’s raining outside, just like it has been for the past few days, and he feels like he’s repeating September all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him for the umpteenth time and he knows she is, but all he can do is stare out the window and think how the buildings looked so much browner on the movies and how rain doesn’t make anything better, after all.

He also knows he should say it’s all right, but he doesn’t feel like lying. He sees it in her eyes – she wants him to understand it was a decision she needed to make as an editor in chief, and not a friend.

“I think I’m going to leave now.” He tries not to let his voice falter, but he’s bad at it.

“Jones—“

“No, Toni,” he quietly interrupts. “Right now, I’ve got better places to be.”

She nods and he feels guilty, for just a moment. It doesn’t linger because he can’t push out of his mind the fact that it was her decision, friends or not. And it’s selfish, because she’s given him more than anyone else has in this godforsaken city.

Jughead takes the manuscript with a shaky breath and hopes Toni can’t see his fingers trembling as he does. His posture is straight and hair damping from the rain, but he maintains the pride he holds himself with; doesn’t let her see how important this is to him.

It doesn’t slip his notice when she nods to herself. She flops into the chair looking as tired as he feels – eyes fixed on the window and hands on the table, he feels like she knows exactly what’s going through his mind.

Even though he said he was going to leave, they stare through the window together. Certainly there are different things on each of their minds, but he doesn’t want to let the moment go.

Toni’s voice is quiet and she doesn’t avert her eyes. “I see you’re still here.”

“Going,” Jughead replies.

Yet he still stands there, fingers thumping against the paper he knows he shouldn’t have used. But there’s so many things he shouldn’t have done he can no longer keep the count of – instead he stands in the office of the Pembrooke Independent’s editor in chief, delaying the inevitable that waits for him outside it.

He’s thinking too much. Again.

With his hand lingering on the doorknob, he really is ready to go. Except Toni turns in her chair to face him, and he notices she’s dyed her hair a lighter shade of pink. He looks away.

“I gave you two months’ worth of published stories and you didn’t deliver enough,” she tells him, voice hoarse. “What you brought me will make people think it a Fight Club ripoff if I publish it, even with the missing sister element.”

Jughead swallows. The hand on the doorknob is clammy. “And what do you think?”

“That you can do better.”

He thinks he should look at her, but doesn’t. He doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves through the door—all he offers is a small nod to no one in particular—and his chest feels heavy at the thought of what’s happening.

There’s no one in the waiting room. Working hours have passed and the only reason why he knew he could come in at this time is because Toni is a workaholic and Pembrooke is most of her life and she understands his need to take things the traditional way – or so she thinks.

Jughead sighs at the door; rain is heavy and so is the wind, and his poor cheap umbrella couldn’t save him from that – not for five minutes and especially not for an hour.

Toni wouldn’t mind him staying for a while, he concludes. He can’t go home when the weather’s like this and paying for a cab is . . . well, out of question.

He takes out his cell and stares it for some time, wondering what he’s going to say. His finger hovers over the contact and he knows he has to do it sometime and delaying only increases his anxiety, but he still waits.

His jaw clenches in the exact moment his finger presses the contact button.

“Hey, Jones, what’s up?”

Jughead closes his eyes, perfectly aware of his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt; trembling. Harvey sounds happy to receive a call from a boy who never calls, only texts – and he feels guilty because of the circumstances.

He prepares for the worst. He’s not going to get the worst from Harvey, the kindest boy he’s ever met.

He prepares for it, anyway.

“Hey, Harvey,” he says. “I just got out of Toni’s—“

“Ah. It’s okay. You’ll pay me later.”

Jughead’s quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

There’s a soft chuckle on the other line, warm and light. It makes him scrunch his eyebrows in utter confusion. When Harvey finally speaks, his voice is just like the chuckle and he can tell he’s smiling—the good kind of smiles only he gives.

“I can tell it didn’t go well, Jones,” Harvey says. “Don’t worry about it. I can pay your rent for this month and you’ll give it back to me somehow. You’ll clean every Saturday instead of me, or something.”

“Har—“

“Jones. Don’t fucking worry about it.”

When he opens his eyes, the world feels brighter. Even the corners of his lips are threatening to turn upwards; he doesn’t deserve a friend like Harvey. He doesn’t deserve a friend like Toni, either – he doesn’t deserve any of it.

“Thanks, Harvey,” he says into the cell with a shaky voice. “Thank you.”

“Shut up and grab me fries and a chicken burger at Midge’s,” Harvey laughs; Jughead appreciates it now more than ever. “You need a ride?”

He glances at the glass door, taking in the sight with a quiet sigh. The rain’s still falling, heavily, but it’s calmed down a little and it isn’t pouring anymore. If he waits here just a little longer, it’ll either stop falling completely or be bearable for his umbrella.

“No,” he tells his roommate, “I’ll manage.”

“Okay. I’ll give you the money for burgers when you get home.”

“I’ve got enough for two burgers, Harv.”

“No. It’s on me. Don’t try to fight me.”

Jughead sighs, again. “See ya.”

“Don’t get lost.”

Don’t be fooled – he despises being dependent on his friends’ favours to keep him alive. It’s not the first time he has to do something else instead of paying rent, or eating on Harvey’s tab and the way it looks, it’s not going to be the last time, either.

Back of the chair is cold when he leans against it, much like the wall he rests his head against. With closed eyes, all he can feel is the December cold and the washed away scent of a city; it feels like cement and sorrow, at the moment. The drizzling rain becomes the white noise in his head and he’s drifting off to a someplace calmer; someplace far, far away . . .

“Jones, what the fuck are you still doing here?”

He flinches and nearly falls off the chair; everything’s too bright and his vision is blurry, but he makes out a silhouette in purple.

“I—Shit, Toni. What time is it?”

She stands with hands on her hips, looking tall and angry and much like a dark-skinned and pink-haired fury. Maybe his next story should be about that, and she’d think it ambitionless enough to publish.

He props himself on the chair, thinking he must’ve drifted off at some point. Toni says nothing as she watches him with scorn in her eyes, ready to scold him for a wide variety of reasons. His only hope is that he looks desperate and pathetic enough she thinks it is enough.

“Six,” she tells him. “You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago, but I’m glad you didn’t. I got an offer for you, kid.”

It leaves Toni’s mouth quickly—too quickly for him to catch at once—or his mind still hasn’t awoken completely. Once he processes her words, he’s wide awake and staring with expectancy in his eyes.

“I’m listening.”

“I need a columnist. It’s not what you’d bargain for, but it reviews movies and books and anything you’d want to. One a week, you’re a regular,” she says. It sounds heavy, he thinks.

Perhaps it’s because she already knows his answer.

“I’m a writer, not a journalist.” His thoughts flash to one point in his life where he thought he could be one – he blocks the road before he delves in too deep. “I’m sorry.”

Toni sighs; she knew the answer. “It’s all right. I’ll be going now, so you’ll need to leave. Do you need a ride?”

He glances out the glass door and notices the rain’s stopped falling, but it’s still going to be cold outside. “No.”

“Sure, kid.” They leave the building together and she locks the door, eyes still on him. “You sure you don’t want the position? If you need the money, then—“

“No,” he cuts her off. His voice is sharp and the glare he grants her is more than she deserves. “I’m not a sell-out, Toni. You of all people should know that.”

When he turns her back to her, he feels her gaze burning into him. His jaw is clenched and manuscript carelessly tucked underneath his armpit, and he feels something boiling inside him.

Does he feel bad for storming out like this? No – and he should. Toni offered him a way out and his pride ate it away, like it did with anything he’s offered. But it’s a part of him he cannot say no to, not now and not ever and it has always been this way. Even when before, in Riverdale—

The entirety of his body shakes. His shoulders are higher than usual and he’s walking fast and steady, eyes on the pavement. The sound his boots make when he takes a step irks him to the point he wants to tear them apart and they squeak every single time. His hands are resting in the pockets of his jacket, manuscript tucked under his sleeve and he doesn’t even care the few droplets falling from the shops and rooftops are going to leave marks on his already-smudged handwriting.

It’s about when he passes down the street that he sees another blonde ponytail, just like she used to wear. The girl’s back are facing him and she’s wearing a peach coat, standing out in the sea of dark colours. She’s talking to someone, all the way on the other side of the street and cars are blocking his view of her as he walks; he feels like he’s heard a melody so familiar to him, yet so distant he can’t reach it anymore.

In the span of a moment, he wonders of an entire future if the girl turned around and it was her.

Another car comes and stops right in front of her, and he looks away for good this time. It does not do to dwell on the dreams and forget to live, as Dumbledore once said. He himself lives too much in the past despite his wishes, and not enough in future – except in rare moments like this, when past and future blend into once and his grip onto present loosens.

He shakes his head. There’s a lot that needs to be done, and thinking of her is never one of the things.

It’s quiet when he enters Midge’s. Most booths are empty and the few people he sees are either regulars, or young couples that likely have no better ways to spend this night. He doesn’t envy them—not now or ever—but his heart does skip a beat when he thinks of evenings like these he used to spend with a group of people in a similar place.

He turns to Midge before his thoughts proceed any further.

“One double cheese burger and one chicken burger, to go, please,” he says. His eyes then fall upon the milkshake tub, and feels a memory taking shape somewhere deep in the back of his mind. “And two vanilla shakes.”

Midge—a dark haired girl in her early twenties—smiles at him with a nod. “Straying away from the usual?”

“No, Harvey wants his beloved chicken burger,” he says with a small smile.

Midge laughs, shaking her head. “I meant the milkshakes.”

“Oh. That.”

Before he gets to answer, she leaves to make the shakes while they wait for the burgers to be done. The diner looks quite melancholic without the usual people in it, and it’s just started snowing and people are running around with boxes underneath their hands.

The entire city is in a rush, except in this little corner of universe. Midge’s is, and always has been, calm.

“What’s up, dreamer?” he hears Midge’s cheerful voice. “Thinkin’ of someone?”

He turns on the seat, facing her with elbows on the bar. She’s pretty, he thinks, and nice. “Absolutely.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Victoria,” he says, taking the bags filled with food. There’s almost a smirk on his face – he’s sure he would’ve smile, were he not exhausted by what the day has prepared for him. “I’m fairly certain she’s going to flip when I introduce her boyfriend to vanilla milkshakes.”

Midge laughs and gives him the tab. His hand sticks into his back pocket and panic washes over him; he’s fucking broke.

“Is everything okay with you?” Midge sounds faraway and distant. “Jones, the money’s already on the bar.”

His gaze drops to the bar and he sees a twenty dollar bill right there. He doesn’t recall taking the money out, or even having a twenty – but it’s his, it must be.

“Yeah,” murmurs Jughead, “just having a bit of a rough day, that’s all.”

The bag settles knowingly in his fingers, already engraving itself into them. He runs a hand through his hair, subconsciously noting he needs to cut it, and takes the change Midge gives him. The coins clatter in his pocket, unnaturally, and he tries to ignore the concerned look the owner of the diner gives him when he says his goodbyes.

When he came to New York, Midge was one of the first people he met. She had just opened a diner in Washington Heights at barely nineteen, after having lived in Harlem all her life. He just so happened to be in search of a job and a place to stay, and she was looking for a roommate and someone to help out around the diner – he slept at her place and worked instead of paying the rent.

Being eighteen and having three months to spare until university, it was all he needed. Perhaps they even became friends at some point, but it never became anything more than that. When he left for the NYU campus, they shortly fell out of contact yet once he came back to the neighbourhood, he kept coming into the diner he once helped build.

Midge’s was the first home he made in the city. It was rusty and old—Midge bought it from an old couple—but the girl breathed life into it shortly after. Even more so, when he found himself in the need of something more temporary than what he had, she was the middle-woman between him and his roommate-to-be, having grown up with his girlfriend.

He owes her a lot – much more than she knows, let alone gives herself credit for.

He leaves the diner lost in memories of his early days in the city—those he cherishes—and fails to notice someone is planning on entering it upon slamming the door on them. Otherwise he wouldn’t apologize, but this time it was so blatantly his fault he couldn’t ignore it, despite his best will.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles; getting back from dazing memories to cold reality has never been an easy—or quick—process for him. “Didn’t see you.”

Does he plan on looking at the person? No, he plans on minding his own business and that is getting home as soon as possible as Harvey’s been expecting him for a while now.

But he looks at them. Nonchalantly; accidentally, at first.

He does a second take when his fingers relent and the bag crashes on the pavement, unnoticed by any part of his being.

Betty.

Jughead blinks, staring at the girl in front of him. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and it’s still the colour of gold washed by the sun; her lips, full and soft and laced with soft lip gloss—he feels them; smooth and soft and leaving taste of honey on his own—and doe blue eyes now framed with light red eye shadow—they’re taking in the sight of him when they kiss after a fight, losing himself in the eyes he’s made a home in—and it’s all so familiar he feels like he’s gotten a football into his stomach.

Except she’s older now, and that’s where the similarities stop. He face is longer and bones more intricately shaped, eyes that no longer posses the innocence he’s once fallen in love with and there is something in the way she stands that makes her seem more mature – and he feels it. Even the coat of the colour of peach doesn’t scream Cooper! anymore.

He takes in the sight of her and forgets to breathe.

“Jughead?”

In a reply, he swallows—throat dry—and nods, weakly. Her voice is high pitched and she’s staring at him wide eyed, and all the years they’ve spent apart seem erased from his memory. It’s the night before graduation again and he’s staring at her, taking in her loveliness—

“You lost the hat,” she states. She sounds unsure; is it a question?

“You lost the Cooper-ness,” he replies.

She laughs at that, looking at her outfit. “Yeah. Been about time, hasn’t it?”

Jughead smiles; there’s so much he wants to say and so much more he knows he shouldn’t say that in the end, he opts for nothing.

“So.” Betty’s looking at him and her voice is deeper, he notices. There’s a certain sharpness in her eyes that wasn’t there last time he saw her. “I’m going to get something. Feel like coming along, for old times’ sake and all that?”

All that—he thinks—yeah, all that when I left without a call. All that, when we never broke up. All that, all that – there’s so much of it.

And none he feels like sharing.

At that, he realizes his bag is still on the ground – both of them must’ve forgotten it slipped his grasp, or perhaps neither has noticed. He lifts it with what he deems a ‘sorry’ grin. “Maybe some other time.”

“Oh,” she says and he hears genuine disappointment in her voice. “Absolutely.”

There is silence that isn’t one—people are moving around them, chatting; drivers are honking the horns and there’s sounds everywhere—but they’re not saying a word and it feels heavy, troubling. Jughead tells himself it’s for the best.

He sighs; quietly, again. “I should get going. My roommate’s waiting.”

Betty nods and his eyes are transfixed by the way her ponytail bounces, just like it always has. “Yeah. Me too.”

The moment their eyes meet, he’s eighteen all over again and looking at Riverdale for the last time. When she averts her eyes the memory is gone and he feels like holding onto thin air; she’s here and it’s almost as if no time even passed, yet in the same moment it feels like she’s in a whole other universe and he can’t reach her and—

He should go, he knows. He does. Yet they exchange numbers—it feels strange having her in his limited contact list again—and he recommends her what to get at Midge’s. Both of them are older now but there are so many things that need to be talked about and even more questions he raised last time they saw each other and the only thing between them is tension. It doesn’t matter how hard they try to ignore it – it’s there, more palpable than ever, and it hardly feels it has ever been something else.

Jughead’s the first to leave. He waves in goodbye, not quite managing to find the right words to say, and she smiles in return. Five years ago, that smile would melt him – now it just evokes more bad than good and things that should’ve remained buried. Instead, they agree to catch up over a coffee—because milkshakes would hurt all too close to home and neither are ready for that—even though he has his doubts, already.

The twenty-minute walk to his place is clouded by memories he tries to fight. He thinks of Archie and Veronica and all the people he left behind; there’s ache in his chest he hasn’t felt in years, almost, because he never allows himself to.

He almost misses Victoria on his way into the complex. She greets him cheerfully, black locks swinging as she animatedly tells him about the movie she’s just seen with her boyfriend. He talks to her, forgetting what she says almost instantly, and breathes of relief when she finally leaves.

Any other time he’d feel bad for being like this—he genuinely likes Victoria, despite her a little assertive and loud behaviour—but his mind is too preoccupied with other things to deal with it now. Even when he finally enters the apartment, he hardly registers his roommate greeting him as he sets the bag on the table and closes himself in his room.

First thing he does is open all windows. There’s three of them, seeing as his room is on the corner of the building. He lets the air flow and sits on the windowsill with one leg hanging out and a lit cigarette between his lips, the last he could afford.

Jughead never smokes. He stopped with it when things got really bad for the second time, and now only has a pack ready for situations where he needs to calm his nerves and smokes once cigarette every few weeks, or months, sometimes.

Harvey enters with a knock. He says nothing when he takes a seat next to him, back turned to the outside world.

Even subconsciously, Jughead watches his closest friend with a grateful eye. Harvey’s three years older than him and in every way what before Jughead would refer to as ‘self-entitled spoiled brat’. He has money and is good at what he does – that solely would once be enough for him to never speak to someone again.

During the last three years, he’s gotten to know him better. The tousled brown hair means he’s been painting again, and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes him see the world in a different way – through a lense of kindness Jughead could never find in himself. He’s an artist and brilliant at it, supporting himself with the little he earns and what his parents gave him in his enormous trust fund, asking Jughead for fifteen percent of the massive rent – something he found out a year into their living together.

Harvey knows what to do. He’s quiet when Jughead needs him to and respects his wishes not to speak of certain things. Never being one for books, he still helps him out whenever Jughead asks and wants to be included in as much of Jughead’s life as he allows him to.

He doesn’t deserve Harvey Levario.

“I had an encounter with someone I used to know.” Jughead flicks the butt of the cigarette on the windowsill; ash falls and his eyes follow it. “Someone I tried to forget about.”

Next comes a long drag; smoke fills his lungs like poison, and he enjoys every moment of it. When he exhales the smoke leaves a familiar taste on his tongue – something he shouldn’t enjoy.

It begins to darken and it’s well below the freezing point. Neither of them has moved or said anything in a long time.

Moments like these are when he wishes he could tell Harvey everything. He knows more than anyone else in his life, the rich East Harlem-born kid would understand in ways that others wouldn’t. He’d say something genuine that would make him feel better and perhaps things wouldn’t seem so hopeless and times so desperate.

Except, involving him in it would be the worst kind of selfish Jughead can imagine.

“When I left home, I left everything behind.” He picks his words carefully, once the butt of cigarette, too, is flicked down the road. His eyes are glued to the moving cars and passing people and he envies their unawareness. “I did it for a specific reason and it’s the one right thing I’ve done in my life.”

He’s quiet before he continues, and so is Harvey. It means more to him than words ever could.

“She’s the best thing I left behind and I don’t regret cutting it off. Seeing her today, though . . . It made me regret it.”

Harvey’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “Do you miss her?”

“No,” comes the automatic response. It burns his tongue and stabs his throat; he closes his eyes and they flutter, before he opens them again. “I always have. That doesn’t mean being in contact with her is a good idea.”

The lights are lit and the street becomes alive, illuminated by the kind of freshness only New York possesses – nothing ever feels truly over here.

Beside him, Harvey shudders. Jughead decides it’s time to stop with the charade, but not before he says: “There are several reasons why I turned my back to everything I’ve ever known, Harvey.” He takes a long look at his friend, for the first time since arriving. “She’s almost all of them.”

The window then closes and so does Jughead’s will to speak of Betty. Harvey accepts it without a word, indulging him in a conversation about Toni and lets him vent until there’s nothing left to say. It’s late when he finally eats the burger Harvey gives him, and he tells him about his day at the gallery. Jughead tells him he’s going to have the money for rent in two weeks’ time, but Harvey doesn’t want to hear of it.

It’s even later when Jughead finally lies in bed, nearly morning. Sounds of the city awakening keep him awake, too, and he wonders for a moment of all the things that have taken place in order for him to end up right here, right in that moment.

He gets her text at five in the morning, on a Friday. His eyes skim over it and he pays no mind to it as he turns off the cell phone, placing it on the other side of the bed.

He doesn’t need her reminder it’s another Christmas he spends alone.

25 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

pdxrice4u

For My Nude Pics + Videos, VISIT: bit.ly/PDXrice

phiendichgiare

Phiên dịch giá rẻ

knightsofgrandeur

dreaming of you‎

tenndo

sickreaps

🦐🔥🔥🔥