#my class is very mean to 'loners' and i stand out even more now. sooner or later they'll get to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 10: Only Us

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry’s in Paris but his heart’s in Holmes Chapel.

Word count: 6.8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 9: On-screen Lovers - Harry struggles with acting for the first time in his life.

Wattpad link

A/N: Sorry for clowning you with the angst in the previous chapter, this one is very FUN.

Y/N couldn't recall how many times she'd driven down this same road. Every journey back home or to London was tied to a different emotion and memory. The last time she'd headed home alone, she had been worried. She'd worried about the damage of the storm, about her house, about her father and Marcy, and about the last place that she and Harry had called "ours", which, sadly, had failed to survive. Then came the last time she'd left home alone, she had been sad. Even the upbeat songs on the radio couldn't drown out the stressful thoughts about him, about their unexpected reunion by the treehouse, about how she might never get to see him again.

This time, however, as she came home for her best friends' wedding, she felt nothing but joy. She listened to music for half of the drive and enjoyed the silence of her own company for the other half. Would this last? Would she still feel joy when she returned to London? She wouldn't know for sure, but she wouldn't let doubt stop her from enjoying the present.

Despite how many times her father, Harry, and even Isaac had warned her about driving alone through the night in a car that broke down whenever it felt like it, she never listened. Here she was, leaving London when it was pitch dark just so she could make it home before dawn. Driving had always been her guilty pleasure even though she wasn't good at it. There was something so therapeutic about being behind the wheel that put her at ease, especially when it was dark outside and the roads were empty. She felt like a spy going on a mission, a thief fleeing in the night, or a loner exploring the world.

But when 'Don't Keep Driving' came on, she instantly thought of Harry. She wondered what he could be doing now. He must be in bed, resting for another long shooting day, or stressing out about their fight before she'd left London. It wasn't anything serious, just him telling her to wait until morning to go, and her doing the exact opposite which drove him mad. She hadn't replied to his fifteen text messages, but she would, when she arrived home. She would apologize and he would forgive her, because once he realized it wasn't as dangerous as he'd thought it would be, he wouldn't stress out about it so much if (when) she did it again one day.

She was reckless, some would say, but she wasn't crazy. She'd made sure to text her dad before she left London. His reaction had been the same as Harry's, but she'd ignored it and sent him another text when she arrived in Holmes Chapel. By the time she took a turn into her street, the sun had just come up. Her father hadn't replied to her second message, so she'd thought he was still sleeping. It came as a big surprise for her, that not only he was waiting for her in the driveway, but her two best friends were also there.

The girls almost tackled Y/N over with the tightest hug. "We've been waiting all night!" said Celine as she grabbed her face and showered it with kisses until she was shoved off. But Amala was quick to take her place, squeezing all the air out of the maid-of-honor.

"Are you guys getting married or am I?" Y/N joked. It was only when Bradford walked over that the girls let her go and stepped aside.

Almost lifting her feet off the ground with that strong grip, the man kissed her head a few times and asked her if she was tired. She said she was, and just as expected, his concern turned into a life lesson. She rolled her eyes and told him he was overprotective, but also made a promise to never do that again. Both of them knew it was just another one she would break unapologetically, sooner or later.

Her stepmother Marcy was visiting a friend this week, so it was going to be just her and her dad at home. Their relationship had improved tremendously since last year, but she wasn't comfortable sharing every detail of her life with him yet. He had been upset to have found out about her and Harry from Anne. Now that the girls were here, he didn't get a chance to have a proper conversation with her, but she knew he would bring up the topic as soon as they were alone. Anyway, she was ready to talk, whenever he was ready to listen.

Bradford knew about the problem with Y/N's car so while the girls were having breakfast in the kitchen, he headed to the garage to fix it. Y/N had offered to help, but he'd insisted on doing it alone, so she let him have his fun with her baby. Honestly, she was glad he was busy for now, because there were so many things she wanted to tell Celine and Amala but didn't want him to know, mainly just what was going on between her and Harry.

When it came to this topic, the girls held nothing back. The second they all sat down at the kitchen table, Y/N's love life became the topic for discussion. Questions about Harry were fired at her like fast-moving metal bullets and even though she'd braced herself for this informal interrogation, she was overwhelmed still.

"It's crazy, don't you think?" Celine trailed off as she put down the coffee cup and made sure the heart logo was facing outward. Unlike Y/N, she had always been one for perfection. "Ten years ago you stood in front of our class and talked about this boy you'd only known for a week like you'd known him your whole life. Now look at you, you're his girlfriend and you're in love. That's so crazy!"

"Not to mention that he's an actor," Amala said. "I have a good feeling about this."

"Well..." Y/N shrugged as she took a sip of milk from her favorite cup. "I guess going through so much shit in the last several years has really fucked me over. I don't remember what it was like to feel in control of my life and relationship. It's like I'm always waiting for something bad to happen to us again, because I know it will. Does that makes sense?"

"I guess." Celine nodded as she heaved a sigh. "You're here for a week, while your actor boyfriend is in Paris shooting this romantic movie with his ex-girlfriend, who's still in love with him. If I were you, I would be concerned too."

"Harry's in Paris with his ex-girlfriend?"

Taken aback, the girls turned their heads to the door and found Bradford standing there with his arms crossed. Y/N shot Celine a glare, and the tiny girl immediately covered her mouth with both hands though it was too late. Bradford was still waiting for an answer, so Y/N had no choice but to give him the truth.

"Yes. But they're only filming a movie. She's an actress."

"Do you want me to talk to him," he asked and rolled up his sleeves. "Give him a little warning?"

"Dad, please don't." Y/N's smile dropped while Celine and Amala were snickering into their palms. "I trust him, okay? Just...don't help."

"I know, darling. I was only kidding." Her father chuckled and walked over to the big cabinet in the corner to get his toolbox. "Only here for this," he said, waving the box in the air. "You ladies continue with the gossip." Then he walked out and Y/N buried her face into her hands, breathing harshly.

Amala leaned in, arms crossed on the table. "Wait, your dad doesn't know about Ruby?"

"Yeah." The answer was followed by a forceful nod. "He hasn't said much about Harry and me but he seems very skeptical about our relationship."

Celine smacked her hand on the desk when she recalled something. "I think I haven't told you this, but when he found out about you and Harry, he called me first and asked me so many questions. I think he might've assumed you'd been cheating on Isaac."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That Isaac and you broke up because both of you realized you weren't compatible, and only after the breakup did Harry try to win back your trust and ask you out."

Y/N put a hand on her chest and sighed in relief. "That's my best friend. Thank you."

"You're welcome, my love," said Celine as she pressed her lips into a smile.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N went on, "my dad doesn't even know the reason we called it quit last year. He only knew it was something Harry had done or said, I mean, anyone could've guessed that. If he knew about Ruby, he would totally freak out about Harry doing another movie with her."

"Understood. No more talks about Ruby around Bradford," Amala said as she and Celine both nodded their heads at once. With a shrug, she added, "but you should be glad that at least he's not completely against you seeing H. Remember how he felt about you and Blake?"

Y/N rolled her eyes at the reminder she didn't really need. How could she forget? Her father met her first boyfriend for the first time when Blake came to pick her up for a school dance...on his motorcycle. Being an impressionable sixteen-year-old, Y/N had thought it was so cool to show up at the dance on a badass motorcycle. But her father had had a lot to say about it.

Y/N had got on Blake's motorcycle that night, and Bradford had been furious. Then he found out from another parent about Blake's reputation with the girls at school. And so there had been a loud argument, ending with Y/N in tears and screaming, "but I love him!", like one of those dramatic teens in movies. Her first relationship had been a mess. Maybe that was why Blake didn't show up at her mother's funeral. He knew her father wouldn't have wanted him there.

Bradford had hated Blake, but he had adored Isaac. Isaac had been the son-in-law of his dream. It wasn't surprising at all, Isaac just had that effect on people. He was a smooth talker, but his words came from his heart and his kindness was genuine. He was perfect. But her father didn't only love him because he was perfect, it was also because he was the opposite of Blake. Blake was the high school bad boy you would hate to love, Isaac was the Prince Charming that she would never deserve. Harry, on the other hand, was...complicated. He could be the bad boy and he could be the prince. She supposed that was why her father had had a hard time deciding how he should feel about her ending up with Harry. But having known Harry since he was a boy made it easier for Bradford to accept him no question asked. He didn't have to dig too much into Harry's past like what he'd done with his daughter's first boyfriend. He trusted Harry not to break her heart, intentionally.

"Speaking of Blake," Y/N began as she glanced up to look at the engaged couple. "He's not on the guest list right?"

"Nope, who knows where he is now? We were only friends with him because you were dating him," said Celine. "Isaac, on the other hand,..."

Y/N was baffled. "Wait a minute—"

"Oh, come on, you were still with him when we sent out the invitations!" Amala pointed a whole hand to Y/N, whose expression dulled for a split second.

"I completely forgot."

"That you had a whole ass boyfriend before Harry?"

Y/N playfully leered at the tiny girl for making that joke. "That the invitations had been sent out a long time ago," she said, smiling.

Amala tapped a finger on her lips as she glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Maybe when Harry finds out Isaac might be with you at another wedding, he'll book a plane ticket and fly back to be your date."

"This movie is too important to him, he won't do that." Y/N scoffed and pulled out her phone.

As the girls switched the topic to their wedding menu and which family they were least excited to see at their wedding, Y/N retreated to her own world. Sitting with both feet on the chair, knees to her chest, she typed down a message to her boyfriend.

⌲ Bambi: Sorry for making you worry. I'm having breakfast with the girls at home. I'm fine. :)

When that text came, Harry had just arrived on set and he was one of the earliest. Thanks to his reckless girlfriend, he'd stayed up all night worrying about her safety instead of getting the rest he needed for his first filming day in Paris.

The location today was the beautiful Pont de Bir-Hakeim, the famous double-decker bridge in Christopher Nolan's thriller Inception, which Y/N had made him watch countless times just so she could fangirl over Leonardo DiCaprio. When he told her he'd been compared to young Leo, she had burst out laughing and told him it was only in his dreams. So before going to his trailer, he'd made sure to snap a photo of the view and sent it to her, followed by a text saying:

⌲ Met Leo right where he filmed Inception.

Her replies came in a heartbeat:

⌲ Bambi: OMG!!!

⌲ Bambi: WHAT?!

⌲ Bambi: PIC OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!!!

Harry flumped into the couch in his trailer as he took a selfie and sent it. The caption:

⌲ Young Leo said hi.

⌲ Bambi: Who's this fool? Where's MY Leo?

⌲ Wow...

⌲ And the award for Most Supportive Girlfriend goes to...NOT YOU!

⌲ Bambi: Aww jk, my baby looks so good, I'm literally drooling.

⌲ Stop sexualizing me pls #respectHarry

⌲ Bambi: #showmeyourtitsHarry

Harry snorted and meant to type down a funny reply, but then the second assistant director showed up to tell him it was time to get into makeup. He asked her to give him a minute and texted his girlfriend that he must go now.

⌲ More pics of young Leo later! :)

⌲ Bambi: I'd prefer him sweaty and shirtless!

⌲ You're so gross!

He put his phone away but couldn't stop smiling. The second AD probably thought something was wrong with him, but she just minded her own business and told him to follow her to another trailer where he would get his hair and makeup done.

Ruby and the rest of the cast were already there when he arrived. His other co-stars were so happy to see him as they shouted "hello" and "good morning" when he walked past. Ruby, however, didn't even turn to look. She kept her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the mirror while her hairstylist was curling her hair. He planted himself into the chair beside her with his name on it and remained silent. Two could play this game, he thought to himself.

When the crew and the director were ready for the first scene of the day, Harry was called to set to run the lines before the camera rehearsal. The first few scenes were easy, most of which were just him walking around, and the dialogues didn't require a lot of energy. Everything was going well, so he felt much more confident when he got to his scene with Ruby. He entertained himself with the thought that she would enjoy this scene more than he would, because she got to yell at him, push him and even slap him for breaking her heart, which, he thought was something she'd wanted to do in real life a long time ago.

But that was only until they began shooting. All the pent-up frustrations had been poured into that one scene. The next thing they knew, she started cursing at him in French though it wasn't in the script. She was half French, half English, so it was hard to tell if this was her character's rage or her own. But no matter what the reason was, their French director loved it so she let them improvise.

Ruby stepped around him and stormed off so he could chase after her. They got to the middle of the bridge and he caught her arm, dragging her to a halt. When her hand cracked across his face, the whole crew went silent. Harry stumbled a step back, his eyes were wide with shock.

It had been an open-handed slap, as loud as a clap and stung his face. He realized she regretted that, but she had to stick to her character and arched an eyebrow at him, her bottom lip quivering. "Don't touch me like that or ever again!" she said and stormed off. Everyone just stood there in silence looking at the two of them until the director shouted "cut!" and walked over to ask if he was all right.

The slap was in the script. What had caught him off guard was the way she'd delivered it. Still, he said he was fine and turned around to see his worried co-star walking up to him.

"I'm so sorry! That was—"

"No, it's fine."

"You have a red welt on your cheek..." She pointed to his face and flashed him an apologetic grin.

Harry shrugged off the comment and asked, "was that Elia or Ruby?"

"A little bit of both," she admitted.

"Good." His reply surprised her. "At least you did a great job, otherwise I would've got slapped over and over again."

Ruby didn't make a sound as she crossed her arms and looked away, but the laugh was in her eyes, and in the way her face relaxed for the first time in days.

"I'm sorry," she spoke under her breath, now staring at his feet instead of his face, "for what I said to you...and...well, for slapping you too hard."

"Apology accepted." He snorted. "But thanks to your honest words. I actually took an acting class before coming here."

Her wondering eyes glanced back up to his face, but as soon as she saw his cheeky smirk, she nudged his shoulder and said, "go to hell."

And just like that, their friendship resumed. They had another talk during their lunch break to work out their problems. He knew it'd make no sense to force her to become friends with Y/N, knowing how hard it was for him to get close to Isaac again even though they'd been best friends for years. So he accepted her apology for what she'd said about his girlfriend, and made her promise to treat Y/N with respect from now on. That was good enough for him.

When they had finished their final scene of the day, it was almost midnight, and everyone was exhausted. Harry was packing up to go back to his hotel when Ruby stopped by his trailer to say goodbye to him.

"There's this really cool pub by the Seine and we might finish early tomorrow, so...do you wanna go?"

She seemed so hopeful when she asked. Still, he wasn't sure. Her agreeing to go back to being friends with him didn't mean her feelings for him had magically vanished, that was also true with Isaac and Y/N. It'd be a double standard if he agreed to go out with Ruby, even as friends, after getting mad at Isaac and Y/N for spending time alone at his birthday party.

"I'm sorry, Rubes. I don't think it's a good idea," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Ruby didn't seem too disappointed as she rolled her eyes. "It won't be just you and me, silly. The others are joining us too. Evangeline knows the owner of the pub, so maybe we'll get some free drinks." She was quick to catch on to his reluctance, so she insisted, "come on, we're in Paris! Why don't you just relax and have some fun? We've worked hard, we deserve this."

"Okay," he said after a moment. "If the others go, I'll go."

"Great! See you tomorrow then!" With that, she ambled away.

On the car ride back to the hotel, Harry sent Y/N the photos he'd taken on set today, knowing how much she loved Paris though she'd never been here. But he also remembered to mention his plan for tomorrow night. He knew it'd be an insult to the city of love if he spent his free time in his hotel room, but his conscience kept telling him that, him partying with the woman he used to love while his girlfriend was at home not knowing what he was doing, didn't sound very moral, even when he was more than sure that he would never do something to disrespect or hurt his Bambi.

He saw the word 'read' under his latest text and typed down another one right away:

⌲ I won't go if you don't want me to.

Sent. With a smiley emoji.

Bambi is typing...

⌲ Bambi: That's silly, H. Go. Have fun, you're in Paris.

⌲ You sure?

Bambi is typing...

⌲ Bambi: There will be other people, right?

⌲ Yup.

⌲ Bambi: Then I'm sure :)

He heaved a sigh as his dimples appeared.

⌲ Miss you :)

⌲ Bambi: Miss you, too. Can't wait to see your face and hear your voice.

⌲ Neither can I.

He sent a pink heart emoji and leaned forward to ask the friendly French driver to drive faster.

Once Y/N had finished her night routine and crawled into bed, Harry texted her that he'd just got out of the shower, and she got on her laptop to call him right away.

They spent the next hour talking about his first filming day in Paris and her first day back to their hometown. She didn't have many interesting stories to tell, so it was mostly just him rambling on about the beautiful weather and landscapes and the stuff that made him miss her. He also told her about some funny things that had happened during his scenes, but the name Ruby had not been mentioned at least once.

Y/N doubted that he genuinely didn't care about Ruby enough to talk about her, so maybe he was afraid to hurt Y/N's feelings by bringing up his ex. But honestly, Y/N didn't see that woman as a threat anymore. The more she knew about Ruby, the less she was intimidated by her. She only felt sorry for her. For someone who had everything from beauty to money to fame, she was too bitter, mean and insecure. So Y/N decided to be the bigger person and forgave Ruby, even when forgiveness wasn't something that woman would ask for.

"So I went shopping today and—"

"Harry," she stressed out his name as if to warn him not to say what she believed he would say.

"What?"

"How much?" She squinted her eyes at him.

"How much what? You don't even know what it is." He smirked. But she knew him too well to buy his pretentious innocence.

"I know that it's something more expensive than I could ever afford and I cannot take it as a gift from you."

"It's not expensive, I swear."

"Oh yeah?" She snorted, crossing her arms. "Show me the receipt then."

He couldn't. So he had to confess. "Fine, it's expensive."

She puckered up her lips and glowered at him.

"But why's it so important how much it costs? I love you and I want to spoil you sometimes."

"This may sound corny but...your love is enough. I don't need your gifts," she explained. Her cheekbones lifted high when he stuck out his bottom lip and furrowed his brows. "Besides, there are people who think I'm using you for money, let's not prove them right."

"Who thinks you're using me for my money?" Harry was taken aback as anger transformed his face. "Is there something you haven't told me?"

"No." She forced a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just...you know, those who have seen the photo? They don't know it's me but...you know, if they did, they would assume that I'm taking advantage of you."

She didn't expect him to believe the reason she'd obviously just come up with a second ago, but he didn't ask any further questions and changed the subject back to their previous debate. "Can I at least take you shopping sometimes? You can handpick a gift with a reasonable price."

"Okay." She nodded merrily. "That's my boy."

"I am, yeah. I'm your boy." He beamed, all teeth showing, and she couldn't help but clutch her heart and giggle at how adorable he was. Who would've been able to tell this man was four years older than her? He was just a little boy.

As she moved her laptop so she could lie on her stomach, Harry's face brightened up at once. "Hey, stalker, that's me!" he marveled, pointing to the movie poster on her wall. Her head snapped back, and she quickly covered the webcam with one hand.

"Hey, let me see my handsome face!"

Y/N ignored him and readjusted the screen before removing her hands. The grimace on his face when he couldn't see himself anymore made her snicker.

"I'm going to burn that one tomorrow," she joked, though it wasn't the first time she'd said so. She'd been so eager to buy that poster when his first movie came out, and every time she had cried over him, she had sworn to destroy it. Many years later, ironically, it was still on her wall.

"How many posters of me do you have in total?" he teased. "Want me to sign some for ya?"

"Shut up!"

"You have my face on your wall, woman! You don't get to tell me to shut up!"

She flipped him off as he was cackling so hard he almost dropped his phone in his face.

"Are you in your hotel room?" she asked once their laughter had died down, and the way he smirked let her know exactly what was on his mind.

"I am." His voice was deliciously low. "Just so you know, I'm also naked."

"Wow, thanks for the information." She gave a smirk and drew her lower lip between her teeth. "Show me your titties then."

Harry gladly complied with the request as he extended his arm and tilted his phone to give her a good view of what she'd asked for.

"Okay, now show me the rest," she demanded, but then he moved the camera back to his face.

"Nuh-uh. I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

"That's not a fair deal, Harry."

"It's already unfair since I'm naked and you're not." He gave her his signature boyish grin, knowing she could never say no to that.

"Fine."

Y/N batted her lashes as she got up on her knees, angled the camera and fisted the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She slowly dragged her shirt up, revealing an inch or two of her white panties while holding his gaze. The green in his eyes turned dark as he wetted his lip and placed his other arm behind his head, panting with anticipation.

'Poor Connection' popped up right before she reached her breasts, leaving her poker-faced in front of the blackened screen. Frantic, she tried disconnecting and reconnecting to her wifi but it wasn't working, so she sat back and scowled at the laptop, "you're a fucking millionaire, at least pick a hotel with strong wifi, dumbass."

"Y/N!" her dad's voice on the other side of the door caught her by surprise. "I need to ask you something about Instagram."

"Wait," she gasped. "You have an Instagram account?!"

"Just...stop judging and help your old man, please."

Smirking, Y/N got up and came to unlock the door. Bradford was waiting outside in his PJs, his eyes glinted when she appeared.

"Marcy told me to like her photos," he said and handed the phone to his daughter. "Here, teach me how this works."

The determination in his eyes amused her, but she didn't make a remark on it and signaled for him to pay attention. "So first you need to follow Marcy. Here, you type her username into this search bar. This is her account, see? Now you—"

"Bambi, I'm back! Where are you?"

Bradford's eyes widened in shock. "Is that Harry's voice?"

"Yeah, give me a sec!"

Y/N rushed back to her bed. The laptop was facing away from the door, so Harry was oblivious to her dad's presence. He plastered a beam on his face when he saw her and said spontaneously, "I think they've fixed the connection, now I can see your tits in HD."

Y/N nearly choked. Her eyes popped out as they shifted back to her father, who was standing at the door with his mouth hung open.

Harry knew something was wrong when he saw her reaction, but he couldn't figure it out until Bradford's casual "hello, Harry" froze him to the spot. Fear overtook his face as he mouthed "is that your dad?" to his girlfriend and almost passed out when she confirmed with a nod.

"Fuck," he muttered before speaking up, "good evening, sir..."

"Good evening to you, too."

Y/N was trying her best not to guffaw at the awkward tension. Meanwhile, her boyfriend was lying on his back with an arm over his eyes, as if not looking would save him from this comical embarrassment.

"I'll leave you two alone," Bradford uttered, eyes on the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck and stalked out of the room.

As soon as he shut the door, Y/N roared with laughter while hugging her stomach and nearly falling off the bed. Soon Harry was also in hysterics and had to beg her to stop because his stomach hurt.

"He's going to whoop my ass the next time he sees me, right?" he asked, trying to calm down.

"Don't worry. He knows we've had sex."

"That doesn't make it okay for me to mention your tits in front of him!" His eyes grew wide with panic but a grin tugged at his lips, anyway.

Y/N leaned back against the headboard, her eyes bored into him for a moment before she spoke, "don't be mad at me when I tell you this."

"Okay?" His face was already taut with worry.

"Isaac might be at the wedding."

"Wha—" Harry sat straight up, his jaw went slack. "What? Why?"

"The girls sent out the invitation when I was still with him." Her face relaxed with a beam while his expression closed up and his lips drew back in a snarl. He was upset, she could tell, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about it xx angered him twice as much.

"Don't tell me your first boyfriend might be there too."

"Nope, he won't."

"What's his name again?"

"Blake."

"Ugh." Harry winced in disgust and repeated the name in a mocking tone that got Y/N cackling.

That was when her dad knocked on her bedroom door again. "Hey, darling, I think I accidentally posted something!"

"One second!"

She rolled her eyes before turning back to a perplexed Harry. "Gotta go. My dad needs help with his Instagram account."

"He has an Instagram account?" he gasped. "And he's asking you of all people to help him?!"

"You're such a dick." She giggled. "Call you later?"

"How about tomorrow?" he said, stretching his arms and yawning. "Thanks to you, I didn't get any sleep last night. I'm drained."

"Okay, goodnight, baby. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, love you!"

"Love you more!" She puckered up her lips and blew a kiss to the screen so he could catch it and press it to his heart. Waving goodbye, she ended the call.

Her father was patiently waiting outside. And when she opened the door, he threw on the biggest grin that made him look even shyer. "We don't have to talk about it," he said.

Y/N knew exactly what he was talking about, so she thanked him for that and told him to come in. Awkwardly, Bradford faltered to her desk and settled himself in her spinning chair while she took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing him. He asked if he'd interrupted her and Harry's talk, but she told him it was no big deal and Harry needed some rest, anyway.

"So what's the problem?"

"Here. How do I take this down?" he asked, showing her the Instagram story he'd posted by accident. It was just a blurry shot of the wall, so she'd guess that photo was also an accident, or he was just terrible at taking photos.

"Here, you tap on these three dots and delete. Done."

Bradford placed a hand on his chest and sighed in relief as he said, "I hate this app."

"So do I," she agreed. "But many people enjoy it."

"Hmm, I guess it could be fun to share your happy moments with the world, especially moments with your significant other."

Y/N grinned before she said, "cannot relate."

It was a wry joke. She did that all the time, turning the little inconveniences in her life into jokes so they couldn't bring her down. But sometimes, it backfired and only made her think more about the problem, just from a different perspective.

Bradford was quick to catch on to what she meant, so he turned off his phone, put it on the desk and began, "it's still crazy to think, the kid who used to come over so often that I sometimes thought he lived with us, is now famous and dating my daughter." He smacked his leg, chuckling lowly. "Oh man, so much has changed."

Y/N bit her lip as she nodded slowly. "You're right. It's crazy, isn't it?"

The silence that took over afterward made Y/N feel as cold as the night air that crept through her open window. She wrapped her arms around her torso and crossed her legs on the bed. The father and daughter were both lost in their own thoughts, but little did they know they were thinking about the same thing.

It was only until the voices inside her head became louder than the crickets singing outside her window that Y/N broke the silence with a question, "dad, do you like Harry?"

She glanced up as he did the same, flashing her a beam when their eyes met. "Of course I do," he said. "I've known him all his life. He's not perfect, nobody is, but I believe in that boy. He's a good person."

"B-but..." she faltered. "Do you think we're good for each other?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

His response left her speechless. It took her a moment to say her thought aloud, "you're my father, aren't you? Your opinion should matter."

With an inscrutable smile, he sucked in a breath and reached out to hold her hand on her knee. "Sweetheart, when it comes to love, the only opinion that matters is your own."

"But you told me Blake was bad for me."

"Yes, and I was wrong, wasn't I?"

She parted her lips, but no word got out, and so he went on, squeezing her hand, "Tam used to scold at me all the time. She didn't like the way I reacted to you hanging out with that boy. I should've listened to her. Your mother was always right when it came to you."

She snorted when he stroked her cheek and tucked a strand behind her ear. With a deep breath, he carried on, "I mean, I was trying to protect you. But I should've known, the only one who knew what was best for you and what made you happy, was you? You had made the right choice to ignore my criticism about the boy you loved. So why should it be different now? Because Harry is famous? Oh, my darling, money and fame, or anything else for that matter, don't get to decide if you two are good for each other. Only the two of you should have that power. It's a terrible world we live in, so when you find the right one, don't give that power to anything or anyone else."

It took Y/N a few seconds to let his words sink in. She gripped his hand more tightly and the corners of her lips turned up at last.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he told her and rose from the chair to kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, dad."

"Oh!" Bradford looked back the second he reached the door. "How was Harry? Do you think I scared him?"

"I think he might've peed his pants."

Y/N's answer made him chortle.

"Good." He smiled before heading out. Not a moment too soon, he ducked his head back into the room, realizing that he'd forgotten something.

"I love you," he said. The way he cleared his throat afterward warmed her heart.

"I love you too," she cheerfully replied.

Harry's second day in Paris couldn't have gone by much faster. He had no idea why, but he believed time flew like a jet in this city. And it made absolutely no sense because the lifestyle here wasn't always in a rush like the one in London.

It could be the feeling of homesick that made him feel this way. His brain probably wanted to fast-forward two weeks, so he could fly back to England. Sadly, it was physically impossible to alter space and time, so he tried to live in the moment as best as he could.

They were filming another scene with Ruby and a supporting actress, after that everyone was good to go. Harry had finished a long time ago, but he had to wait for the director and his co-stars to get their jobs done so they could head to that pub together.

He'd sent Y/N some more photos, but she hadn't replied. Last night, she'd said she'd be spending an entire day with the girls, so it would've been weird if she had been on the phone with him the entire time. Fortunately, he had Niall to keep him busy while waiting.

Niall had texted him first to ask for his opinion about some new lyrics. Then the conversation was diverted from Niall's music to Isaac and Y/N. Harry felt almost pathetic to ask Niall if their other best friend still talked about Y/N once in a while. He knew he had no reason to be worried or jealous, but he couldn't help it. For him, jealousy and love would always go together. Thank God Y/N knew that and she still tolerated him.

⌲ Niall: Are you mad that he'll be her wedding date again? Lol

⌲ No.

That was a lie.

⌲ And he's not her wedding date. They just go to the same wedding.

Niall took too long to answer, so he sent another text:

⌲ Maybe I'll fly back to surprise her, who knows?

⌲ Niall: Aren't you filming for two weeks straight?

⌲ I'll figure something out.

⌲ Niall: Okay, but be careful while you're there. Don't do something stupid and hurt Y/N.

⌲ You don't trust me?

⌲ Niall: I don't trust your crazy ex. She's evil.

⌲ Rubes already apologized.

⌲ Niall: Why would she apologize to you after what she'd said about Y/N?

⌲ I can't make her go to Bambi's place and apologize to her in person.

⌲ Niall: She could go to Y/N's place to threaten her but couldn't go there to apologize?

⌲ Wtf? Are you serious?

Niall is typing...

⌲ NIALL!

Niall is typing...

⌲ Niall: Yeah...

⌲ Niall: Shit, Y/N made me promise not to tell you.

⌲ Just fucking tell me. What did she say to Y/N???

Niall is typing...

⌲ Niall: She offered money so Y/N would leave you. Y/N said no.

Harry almost didn't believe it, but then he remembered what Ruby had said about Y/N that night at his party. He hadn't seen that coming either, but it'd happened. No matter how much he thought he knew Ruby, he only knew what she wanted him to know.

He heard the director shout "cut!" and immediately rose from his chair. He hadn't read Niall's reply, but he was infuriated and he needed to confront Ruby right this instant.

"Hey!" Her face lit up when she saw him walk over, probably too elated that she'd finished her scene to notice the rage in his eyes. "Just give me a second to change and—"

Without waiting for her to finish, he took her forearm and dragged her to the corner of the room where no one could hear or see them. She shrugged him off, annoyed by how he'd manhandled her, but he was too mad to feel sorry about it.

"Did you go to Y/N's place?"

"What?"

He inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw as he spoke slowly yet impatiently, "did you go to my girlfriend's place and fucking threaten her?!"

The way her face went pale already confirmed it all. He wished it'd been a misunderstanding, but deep down, he'd known from the moment he read Niall's text that she was capable of something like that. It was pitiful that he was still hoping she was the woman he'd thought she was.

"What kind of person does that?! You're fucking insane—Fuck, I'm done with you!"

"Harry!" She dashed around him to stand between him and the exit door, tears had smudged her perfect makeup. Now she was just babbling on with nonsense. "Listen, I don't...I just...I just wanted to..."

"To make sure I could never be happy again?" He laughed wryly.

"No!"

"Because hurting me was all you've done since the day we met. Would it ever be enough? How much more do I have to lose for you to feel satisfied?!"

"H, please, I just—" She caught his arm, but he shoved her away and raised both hands, his eyes fell to the floor.

"Just...do me a favor and stay away from my girlfriend."

Without another look at her face, he stormed off. Her crocodile tears couldn't stop him this time.

#my girl series #actor!harry #older!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb

350 notes · View notes

ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

Text

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 5

Ha, well, this chapter got away from me! I had a lot of fun with it, though, so hopefully you all will, too! The first scene is directly inspired by one of the comics that @corndog-patrol did for this AU! For those who are curious immediately, the song is I Can't Decide by the Scissor Sisters. It's a very Villain!Mic song.

Edit - The previous chapters have been edited to where Shota refers to Kayama Nemuri as Nemuri instead of Kayama. This change was due to the fact that I thought Kayama was her first name. Wiki did me wrong, y'all.

Enjoy!

Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

Click here to read the work on Fan Fiction Net.

If you found yourself enjoying this, then check out my writing commissions.

⍣ I have a Patreon! ⍣ ☪ I have a tip jar! ☪

Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

<<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Five

There were times where every pro hero made mistakes in their career, whether the ensuing results were small or not. Shota remembered the lessons his teachers had given his class when he had attended U.A., and some of them had been grim. There was no saving everyone, there would be battles where one would never be able to learn from the mistakes made, and there would be some mistakes that would be made that could have been preventable.

Shota had become too comfortable and secure in his routine. He knew he had that drawback - as did many other heroes - but he hadn’t expected it to end with him tied to a chair. A little wiggling showed that he wouldn’t be escaping the ropes unless he managed to break the chair or dislocate a shoulder and, considering he didn’t see his capture weapon anywhere, he was hesitant to put himself in a position where he would only be fighting with one hand.

“Well, well… Looks like the infamous Eraserhead can be caught after all.” Glaring up at the man in front of him, Shota narrowed his eyes when he was only met with laughter. “Come on, Eraser, let me have my fun! I’ve been at this for so long now.”

“You know kidnapping a pro hero is an actual act of villainy, don’t you?” Shota glared at where Present Mic was staring at him with a wide grin and crossed arms. For as much annoyance as he felt, he couldn’t really bring himself to feel worried.

“Of course I do! How many times do we have to go over the fact that I, Present Mic, being of sound mind-” Present Mic stumbled over the words when Shota gave a quiet laugh. “Oi! Don’t be mean!”

“Alright. You’ve captured me. Now what?” There was a stretched silence, Shota not surprised when Mic finally broke his gaze. If there was one thing he had learned after all these months, it was that Present Mic couldn’t harm a soul to save his life. He really was such a terrible villain. “What? No plan?”

“Well,” Mic said, drawing the word out before a sharp grin was back. “I could always sing to you, if you want.”

“I don’t.” Shota glanced around the room they were in, wrinkling his nose at seeing it was a drafty, old room that looked to be a part of a closed or condemned building. That just meant he could be anywhere along his usual patrol route, though.

“Too bad.” That was all it took for Mic, a man born without any sense of shame, to begin singing a song in English that had Shota rolling his eyes. Present Mic, it seemed, was fond of anything in English, but he seemed to speak the language well enough. As he sang, Shota noticed he even had a tinge of an American accent and he wondered if that was a side effect of his quirk or if he had spent time in America. Could he mimic sounds and other voices? That seemed like it would be useful for underground work.

“I’m not a gangster tonight.” The touch of a hand on his shoulder slightly startled Shota, but not enough for him to show it as Mic pranced around him like he was having the time of his life. Shota really shouldn’t be surprised. Present Mic’s ‘debut’ involved forcing people to sing karaoke. “Don’t wanna be a bad guy!

Maybe if Shota avoided eye contact and did his best to pretend, he wasn’t there it would end sooner. He knew enough English to get along, but not enough that he couldn’t tune it out to a background murmur if he wanted – or needed, in this case.

“I’m just a loner, baby.” The hand was on his other shoulder this time and Shota felt how close Mic was. He made sure to not give him the attention he apparently needed to survive. “And now you’ve gotten in my way!”

An arm was around his shoulder, a hand on his chest, and Shota kept his head turned and his gaze as far to the right as possible. He was starting to regret putting up with this man’s behavior when it seemed to have only encouraged him.

“I can’t decide whether you should live or die!” The man was ‘dancing’ around the room and Shota took the chance to at least roll his eyes. One of them was having fun, it seemed. With the distance, though, it did give Shota the chance to notice that Mic wasn’t wearing his typical leather jacket or the speaker system around his neck and was instead in just a plain white shirt. Shota wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. “Oh, you’ll probably go to heaven, please don’t hang your head and cry.”

Huh. Listening to the lyrics, this seemed like a very dark song for someone like Present Mic. Shota wasn’t worried until a heavy leather boot landed between his legs and pressed against the chair he was in, Mic’s arm thrown over his eyes dramatically, “No wonder my heart feels dead inside!”

A sudden push and Shota felt himself fall towards the ground back first. “It’s cold and hard and petrified!” Grunting at the jarring fall, Shota looked up to see that Mic’s boot was still on the same part of the chair and pinning him down, Mic’s smile wide and wicked as he leaned over and pushed up his glasses to give a wink of green eyes that were so bright they almost glowed, “Lock the doors and close the blinds, we’re goin’ for a ride!”

For a single moment, Shota could only feel shock as he stared up at Mic before the man was pushing off and dramatically dancing around the room as he sang the rest of the song. Shota stayed on the ground and his shock quickly turned to embarrassed anger because why the fuck had Present Mic looked, to borrow Nemuri’s words, fuckable.

Right. Shota could have a crisis over this, later. The one thing Mic had neglected to do, it seemed, was check his pockets, and, luckily for him, Shota’s knife was now right near his fingertips.

It took a little under seven minutes for Shota to break his bonds, get Mic to stop his ridiculous singing, and pin the man enough that he could start to handcuff him. He may have put a bit too much force behind a few of his punches, but that’s what the man deserved for frustrating him so badly. Shoat hated that he could already imagine Nemuri’s comments when she found out about this little debacle.

“I wasn’t really going to kill you!” Mic whined, staying still as Shota fit the handcuffs around his wrists. Shota was only a touch amused that the man always gave in and complacently let himself be cuffed once he was pinned and beaten.

“Tell that to the cops, you melodramatic Disney villain.” That amusement was overwhelmingly drowned out by annoyance and anger because Shota was still having an inner crisis. For as much as he insisted the other man wasn’t a villain, he was a criminal at the very least. Shota decided that he wasn’t even going to let his thoughts continue in that direction. It was too embarrassing.

“Boo.” Mic puffed his cheeks out and looked like the social mess he was again. Maybe Shota had been having Stockholm Syndrome symptoms because there was no other way that he had suddenly found Present Mic attractive when Shota had been tied up and unable to move with the man smugly standing over him.

Fuck. Nemuri was going to tease him for years if she ever found out about this. Right. He could never drink around her again.

“Oh, Eraser, your scarf is over in the other room.” Pausing, Shota blinked down at Mic, who gave him a little smile. “I didn’t want to lose it. Steel wire alloy woven with carbon nanofibers, right? Sounds expensive.”

“How did you know that?” This was what always threw Shota for a loop. The man had just pranced around the room and sang a song after capturing him like this was all a game, and now here he was with a look in his eyes that was far too clever for someone who acted like an idiot.

“It wasn’t that hard to guess,” Mic grumbled, rolling his eyes as he shuffled towards the other room, not even trying to make a break for it. “It was pretty easy to be sure, though, when your scarf didn’t work quite right around that one gang member with the fire quirk we fought. Those are the only kinds of materials that would be affected by heat like that - not to mention carbon nanofibers would be the only thing that would be able to handle the steel alloy without the scarf itself being ripped to shreds – especially considering what you put it through.”

Shota stared at Mic for a long moment, finally sighing as he rubbed at his eyes. His voice was soft, though, when he finally spoke, “Why are you doing all of this? You’re obviously not an idiot.”

“No, I’m not.” Startled at that, he looked to where Mic was nudging his leather jacket aside with his foot, Shota’s capture weapon wrapped up neatly in the corner of the room. A swift kick and it was sliding over to stop in front of Shota’s feet. “Hey, can you pick up my jacket for me?”

“You can’t do it yourself.” Grinning at the glare he was given, Shota made sure the familiar weight of his weapon was around his neck and shoulders before picking up the jacket, noticing the speaker nearby. “That’s a directional speaker for your quirk, right? Where did you get it?”

“Hm? Oh, I designed most of it myself, but I know this guy who was able to do the actual building of it.” Mic looked up from his jacket and paused at seeing Shota’s expression before giving a grin that was almost teasing. “Hey, hey, enough with the pity looks, hero. I don’t need them.”

“Mm.” This man was smart enough that he could have done so many things, but here he was in a horrible area playing at being villain for a reason Shota couldn’t figure out. It seemed the more they talked, though, the less Mic hid behind that bright, goofy behavior - although he was still far too loud and cheerful.

“Right, then! I need something out of the right pocket. You can either get it yourself or you can make me get it. Depends on if you think it’s a trap or a weapon, I suppose, but then again, would I really hurt you, hero?” It was ridiculous that the English nickname was what made Shota’s mind up for him.

Shota held the jacket out, Mic pouting as he turned around and tried reaching into one of the pockets while his hands were still cuffed. It was more amusing than it probably should have been considering Mic’s leather gloves weren’t helping him in getting into the pockets. “I can hear your laughter, Eraser.”

“You’re mistaken. I don’t laugh.” Shota hid his smile as Mic struggled for a minute or two before finally pulling out a plastic bag that had a white business card inside. “Handing out business cards?”

“I’m not,” Mic muttered, tone dark. It was a tone that made Shota straighten up at once before narrowing his eyes. “It was given to me a little over a week ago when I was at this club. The guy seemed like bad news and was talking about how people were interested in my quirk. I don’t think they know much about it because they offered to make it stronger instead of just kidnapping me.”

The way the words were said, simple and matter-of-fact, made Shota frown as he thought about Mic’s quirk. It was a voice amplifying quirk which sounded simple enough, but remembering back to the bar… How dangerous did Present Mic think his quirk was if he fought most of the time without it? How powerful was it if villains were already wanting to use it? Shota sighed, looking back to the card, “And? How’d they offer to make it stronger.”

“The guy called it Trigger-” The rest of the words cut off with a yelp as Shota slammed Mic against the wall, gripping his chin and forcing the man’s mouth to open as his heart near beat its way out of his chest. When he saw the tongue - pink, not black - Shota almost slumped in relief. “Oi, oi, if you wanted a kiss, then all you had to do was ask!”

“Shut up, you idiot. Trigger turns the tongue black.” It was also one of the more dangerous drugs still out on the street even though Shota had spent the last few years trying to get rid of it.

Shota forced the thoughts out of his head and glared at him, knowing it was a weak glare when Mic’s face softened, his voice quiet when he spoke again, “Like I said, the guy felt dangerous. I didn’t touch the card and I didn’t take whatever drug he attached. I don’t know if it’s laced or anything, but you might find a fingerprint on there if you check.”

“You’re a terrible villain,” Shota finally said, letting go of Mic and tucking the covered card away in one of his pouches before he was bending down to grab the leather jacket and speaker system. “Come on. The police are going to want to know there’s Trigger in this area.”

“Not like they’ll care,” Mic snorted, tone bitter as he followed him. “You’re the only hero that ever seems to come this far into the area, you know. The rest of them don’t give a damn what happens to people here, and if you call yourself a hero we all know what a joke it is.”

“Is that why you call yourself a villain and end up helping?” Shota knew pushing wasn’t going to give him any answers, but he couldn’t help but want to know as much as he could about this man.

“Spoilers, baby,” Mic grinned, sunglasses slipping down as he gave a little wink. “I just figured a hero that’s actually going to do something should get that.”

“Was the kidnapping even necessary, then?” Because Shota hadn’t been a fan of being tied to a chair. Waiting for Mic’s laugh and flirtatious joking, Shota frowned when it didn’t come. “Mic?”

“They knew my quirk and they knew where to find me to give me that card,” Mic finally said, voice quiet as he glanced around the street when they stepped outside. “That means on some level they’re watching me, and, well… Only a villain would kidnap a hero, right?”

As they walked to the closest precinct, Shota knew he had been given a lot to think about. Setting aside his… feelings for the man, Shota could see in a purely objective sense that this man wasn’t a villain.

If Present Mic were to ever become a true villain, he would be unstoppable.

“Maybe I should have ripped his tongue out,” Shota said quietly, a warbling meow his own answer to his musings. “Then I wouldn’t be hearing his voice everywhere, at least.” He also wouldn’t be daydreaming about that last week when Present Mic had kidnapped him and sang to him. It seemed no matter how he tried to drown it out - whether with radio or television - he just kept hearing the man’s voice and seeing that stupid, sunshine smile. It was a good thing Shota never fought Present Mic in the day. The sun was already bright enough, and he didn’t need to put up with that and Mic’s smile.

It was getting bad. Nemuri had already caught on that Shota was hiding something from her and seemed to be narrowing the cause down each day. It wouldn’t take long until she guessed right, and Shota would be forced to move to another country. Maybe he could have Nemuri deal with Present Mic from now on. No, that was a bad idea, Mic would just come to his apartment since he apparently knew where he lived.

Maybe he should move? Hm. That seemed like a lot of effort when he was already settled in a nice little apartment that was close to his agency and close to U.A. He’d move if Mic broke in. Maybe.

Hearing Mic’s voice filter through his thoughts again, Shota groaned and laid down on his couch, Jelly not bothering to move from where she was on his lap. It took a long few moments to realize that the voice wasn’t in his head.

“-who just released a killer album last month! I’d definitely recommend checking them out!” That was Mic’s voice. No one else could put that much enthusiasm in words. Scrambling to sit up, Shota stared at his radio that he had turned on to fill up the silence. It was on a radio station that he honestly couldn’t remember, but he knew he had listened to it before around his time of night and had yet to hear that voice. “Next up… Oh, man, next up these idiots had some truly horrendous music they were about to play you. Not to worry though, listeners, because Present Mic is here to set the record straight!”

Shota was off the couch and halfway to the door when another song started to play, his capture weapon settling around his shoulders. While it was his night off, he was sure the police wouldn’t mind working with the hero who had become Present Mic’s babysitter.

It took a while to find someone who was willing to talk to him about just what was going on, of course, but Shota eventually found out that this wasn’t the first time Mic had taken over a radio station. It wasn’t even his second or third, according to the police officer he was talking to.

“And no one’s reported this?” Shota had his arms crossed, the officer shaking her head with a heavy sigh.

“No, they haven’t, and you know how it works. If we don’t get reports, then we can’t really call for a pro hero in to help.”

“That’s because the music he plays is actually decent!” An officer from behind the desk was shouting, the woman - Shelly? - glaring back at him. “Come on, admit it, you agree with me.”

“Shouldn’t you be working, Takamara! I know for a fact you have at least three case files still open!”

“Oi, you’re Eraserhead, aren’t you?” Hearing his hero name, Shota looked over to a set of chairs, two scantily dressed women handcuffed to them. The one who had spoken looked to be a bit older, but her grin was sharp as Nemuri’s. “Present Mic’s Eraserhead?”

Giving it a moment of thought, Shota finally responded, “No.” This only made the woman laugh, the younger girl behind her looking between them curiously. “What of it?”

“You’re looking for him, right? The radio station he’s at tonight should be the one down by the bar on Block 10 in this area.”

“And why would you be helping me if you know who Present Mic is? He sounds like a friend of yours.”

“Oh, baby, that’s why I’m helping.” Definitely like Nemuri. “Want me to pull up the website on your phone? They do live broadcasts.”

“No.” Shota took his phone out, holding it out to the girl slightly behind her. “She can do it. I don’t trust you.”

“I can’t believe he loves someone so nasty.” While the woman complained, the younger girl carefully took his phone, looking hesitant. “It’s okay, Lucy, he’s nasty, but he’s a good one. He’s a friend of Present Mic’s.”

“I wouldn’t say friend,” Shota muttered, noticing that Lucy nodded and relaxed before tapping on his phone. The girl looked too young to be handcuffed to a chair in a police station. While her blonde hair looked dyed, the bright white fur on her rabbit mutation quirk at least looked natural. There was still baby fat on her cheeks, Shota noticed.

“You know how it is around here, pro hero,” the woman said quietly, gaze going back to Lucy. “We do what we have to.” A second later and they heard Mic’s voice filtering out from Shota’s phone.

“-I mean, it wasn’t like it was my fault he fell out the window! Sure, okay, I punched him, but to be fair, he was playing such terrible music, listeners!” It was definitely Mic.

Lucy offered his phone back and Shota took it carefully before thanking her quietly and pocketing the phone, leaving it on before he was setting off. He was starting to wonder just how far Mic was taking this little pretend game of having feelings for him if even people in the police station knew about it.

Taking to the rooftops, Shota listened as Mic continued the show, opening a question and answer segment to inflate his already oversized ego. The first ‘question’ was someone swearing at him, Mic hanging up with an awkward laugh and quickly taking the next call.

“What was the name of that one song you played after the last time you talked? The one with the line ‘the sun never sets.’”

“Oh! That was Unbreakable! It’s number sixteen on the charts now and I have no doubt it’ll break into the top ten, at the very least!” Huh. Mic seemed to honestly like music, so at least his own persona wasn’t a gimmick. “I have a CD of Utada’s latest album at my own apartment, and let me tell you listeners, it’s great! Now, let’s keep it going with the next question!”

“Hi, so, uh, my partner for this class project is working at the station you’re at tonight and he still hasn’t done his half of the report yet… Did you kill him? I really need a good grade in this class.” Shota felt like turning right around and going home and retiring because was there any point in helping people like this?

“Not to worry, dear listener!” Mic sounded like he was having a hard time controlling his laughter and Shota hated how much he liked the sound. “The two usual controllers are safely wrapped up in the other room with no harm done. He’ll be able to help no problem!”

“Oh, cool. If you want to punch him, though, that’s fine, too. He probably deserves it. Great songs tonight, by the way. Better than the usual trash.”

It went like that the entire time it took Shota to get to the radio station where all of this was going on, Shota keeping a portion of his attention on the show, so he could listen for any information that might have helped him.

He didn’t think there was any helpful information in knowing Mic’s favorite food, color, and animal - okonomiyaki, yellow, and a tie between cockatoos and cats – but he ended up paying more attention than he should have.

When he dropped down in front of the station door - cracked open - Shota heard a viewer ask the very question he had been asking since he had first met Present Mic.

“Present Mic, I was just wondering, why are you a villain when you seem so nice?” There was nothing except dead air as Shota turned his phone off and pushed his way into the building, but a second later he heard Mic’s voice over speakers that seemed to be set up throughout the halls so the station always had its own music playing.

“Ah, well… That’s a bit of a tough question, listener.” Strained didn’t even begin to cover how Mic’s voice sounded. “Becoming a villain… was a bit of a wakeup call to all the pro heroes out there, I suppose.”

A wakeup call? Shota frowned and quietly made his way through the building, sticking to the shadows as he tried to figure out what that could mean. The listener seemed to have the same question, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dear listener, that it’s a wakeup call to the heroes out there that the game they play isn’t the same game to others. It’s a reminder that all those ‘villains’ they take down aren’t always out to kill anyone or even hurt anyone. They’re as much victims as the civilians that get caught up in it all.”

Mic’s voice was getting more and more serious and Shota couldn’t help but feel a touch satisfied that he was at least right in the fact that Mic had a reason to be the villain he claimed. “The system of pro heroes has done a lot of good for our country, but it’s done just as much bad in the recent years. Sometimes the system fails, and I wanted to make people see what a failure it was.”

Vindication, but done in the name of proving just how bad their system was. Jeez… he was a villain in his actions, but a hero in his beliefs.

“When… When you tell a child that they have a dangerous quirk, what happens to them? When you force that child to never use that quirk that is called dangerous and a villain’s quirk, what happens to that child?”

Shota stumbled in his steps as he felt a chill run through him. He knew that the system was bad - especially in places like this and in places where he himself grew up, but the way Mic had said those words left an uncomfortable feeling crawling down his spine. Maybe there was more reason than one as to why Mic never used his quirk.

Just like that, though, Present Mic was laughing and sounding like the persona he had crafted, fun and upbeat and not at all bothered by anything. “Well, thank you listeners for sending such good requests my way and tuning in to all my ramblings! This is going to be my last song of the night, though, because it looks like my time with you all is up tonight.”

Wait, what? Why would his time be up? Looking around quickly, Shota frowned at seeing a door at the end of the hall that had the typical red ‘On Air’ sign above it. Before he could move towards it, there was quiet laughter that came from the speakers, and it was laughter that sounded excited.

“Well? Are you coming in, Eraser?”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #erasermic #corndog-patrol #villainous heroics

8 notes · View notes

emersonmanandnature · 3 years

Text

January 18, 2021

Magic Wand

There is no magic wand that saves us from our eventual death, there is no mystery god waiting for us in a heaven renovated to hold billions of human souls, there is beauty in religion for we have been spoon fed that our eternal lives are based on how we do here on this planet, like it was a marathon and losing will get you condemned to hell as if we are not living in hell right now where the new gods of wealth seek dominance over all their minions, the bible  present since birth our young beliefs sincere and obedient for to make it to your salvation one must sacrifice oneself here

On this mother earth in order to rise up in death and meet our maker in his luxurious suites, our expectations as children were high for god must love us and he will return in our life time to separate the hate from our love and condemn those that have ruled us cruelly and murdered without a consciousness, innocence for profits! I ask you to describe your god, does he wear clothes, have a beard, cries at night for sins committed for pleasure and not pain, is your god tall, short, does he walk on two legs or does he beam himself to places he wants to visit

Like our small little planet and then abandon us to the thieves of controlling force, our thoughts structured to a narrow focus, redemption from our partners in crime surely god you are above the criminal minds now running this planet as their own atm, maybe our god is shy doesn’t like the limelight so he sends his son to preach his words and then his substitutes to preach his son’s words that  were supposedly written down by his apostles and then all verses were changed at the council of nice in 325 AD, revised to fit the powers that be,

I think because there was too many women also writing god’s words, does your god metamorphosis himself to be the vision of hope for all individuals or will we see him as one entity the same for all, does your god like to drink beer and party hardy because we certainly haven’t seen his appearance since his crucifixion or will he be a studio god, invented who preaches his thoughts for us to see in a book but not heard in god’s voice, silence is deafening, god seems to be only a character in a bible proclaiming our past sins of gluttony but nothing much has changed since he came to this

Planet to guide us to his salvation but instead left this part of space abandoned, a no fly zone, for his father, son and the holy ghost for they must of lost interest in human beings because they were so exploitive, miserable, complaining, ego’s bigger than gods, greedy, sneaky, back stabbers, violent, murderous, evil, angry, afraid, creators of wars, using his bible as a means to justify their murderous contempt of human life, torture, the worship of money over people, frauds, rapists, gluttons, conquests, slaves, exploitation of the innocence, stealing, looting, smuggling, and so

Much more beauty to reveal in our predictable animal behaviors, change is nothing when stagnated in murky waters, what sounds promising is only a baited hook to get you to believe in a false witness in our government of thieves when jesus was amongst us preaching his version of our fathers promises it uplifted our hope that we the people were saved from the slavery of vicious wars and that all would be on equal footing with the powers that be, wasn’t that why christ came down to create equality and justice for all and die for our sins and through his death we would learn

Our lesson of love for all human beings and not be touched again by the addiction to power and wealth, how did that work out, not well, especially when god said you the people must follow and obey the powers that are present and hope for a better future but I god creator of this universe can’t promise you any hope until after you die, then all judged as moral equals but that obnoxious statement didn’t even last while he was present on earth for all the wealthy leaders were not impressed to be underlings to a man that claimed he was the messiah, christ sent here for a fraction

Of time to change the course of our history toward the good side but that failed miserably and we are now in a vice grip of criminal minds ruling this planet as their playground for exploiting the populace to fear their brothers and sisters, so to keep them fighting each other as the rulers gain a stronger footing in containing their false truths their perpetrator of laws broken, where the bible’s words are outdated, harping for centuries on the same old illusions of hope where nothing changes and we percolate in anger at the wrong target for the rulers of god’s paradise, still in

Absolute control of their power passed down through human history stir the pot of hatred to exploit the feeling of the conditioned mind to hate each other and never blame the instigators of this lopsided power of greed that has been always present, dug deep in our consciousness that the kings and queens of avarice are our true gods, through the bible the domineering rich, their ego’s beyond redemption can’t webe presented with a bible of openness and justice for all and not a means of exploitation of our mind and souls to cow down to the corporate

Pressure, their dominance, their omnipotence to do what they will at our expense, their dominate platform of convincing dribble, cliches used up to justify their greedy incompetence by destroying human beings and this world for profit as their aggressive importance begins to waver and holes show in their propaganda of influence their illegitimate logic begins to erode and they are stripped bare of their lies as the powerless slowly gain confidence to stand up to these oligarchs that exploit the people only for profit and cast them aside as they think of another means to

Take from the poor and give to themselves, for the wealthy, the powerful must be obeyed to the end of days for that is god’s words you have to be kidding me that you god would give power back to the very evil of wealth that were enslaving us and using us to build monuments to themselves until you return, do I smell a stinking con game for if you were god and you saw your creations being destroyed by slavery, wars, violence, greed, criminality, evil in the guise of a helping hand, it just might spur a little anger in your cold heart and you might want to come back sooner than

Never and give us some of your guiding light, can I get a big fat fart of a hallelujah the new gods of earth passing laws that excrete corruption, the hypocrisy of god shuffling his responsibility for making us, an absent father,  a loner, a mystic, a traveler searching for his own family, his jesus, his son’s sacrifice where is the holy ghost have they abandoned him also, and depositing the power to pharaohs, kings, queens, idols warriors, politicians, corporations, investors, wall street, con-men, con-women, criminal minds, sociopaths, psychopaths, serial killers, liars,

Religion, greed, animal behavior, our past a look into the deep convoluted reasoning of the herded cattle, thanks father for our holy mess, no wonder your time is fast approaching where you won’t matter, you our lord will be another idol laid to rest and forgotten, as if brandishing a sacred cow will stop the cut throat greed of wealth from being placed squarely on the backs of peasants as if this deceit of power will bring to us, the people, any answers that will solve  the mess of human deceit, for we are both internal and external animals making it a lot

Easier for the power of corporations to exploit their underlings with grandiose ideas of hope and income when in truth they have no intention of giving their working class slaves any more raises for that might give them a big head and questions asked and then anarchy and then these men in power will suffer their most hated evil, loss of money, they train you in words that the rich know are meaningless and will never see the light of day but it does placate the people into believing that maybe there is hope for their future but there is always

Barriers, a good reason why at this time the powers that be will be unable to raise your salary to the golden wage of nine dollars, we are sorry but the stock market is down and the competition is getting out of hand and besides we felt as an american company it would be best to save money so we are moving our manufacturing jobs over seas, god bless you my people and we will pray your god sends his fax soon for you haven’t seen anything yet when it comes to undermining your income and we will be out

Of town for a few months it gets so cold here during the winter months we so love the riviera and the casinos and the our banquets and our drinking and womanizing and we will have some guest speakers as usual I believe he or  she are politicians from your state and they are here to let us know what they are going to do for us, oh I mean you of course they love their constituents dumb as a stump, your intuition now shriveled up without foresight or hindsight  your life stifled with a whole world in fear, and now you are broke and without support as the

Stoic market continues, the lies from the senate and congress keep eating away our hopes of equality for to have just two parties is in itself a crime, this supposedly free country is hypocrisy at its best, the wet dream of the rich and with just those two parties they can easily manipulate the senators and congress to do their bidding keeping pollution out of the headlines, wars out of the headlines, poverty out of the headlines, migration of innocent people trying to survive, climate change out of the headlines and corrupt leaders out of the headlines, and yet they adore

The evangelicals, the voices of hope promoting not a good life here and now but in some far off time when we are all dead and then we will feel the worms and the fire, oh no I mean the glorious god our father coming to earth but of course you won’t be there with him on his white cloud floating precariously, for there is a lot of people on board surrounding our lord and savior and it looks like the heavy load is pulling the egos down and they might crash if god doesn’t pay attention to the slaughter, the screams, the torturing, the poverty, the climate, the bigotry,

The hate, the fear, the anger and if there is this god he better get his act together or humanity will be consumed with insanity caused by pollution, pandemics, destruction of values and the aggressive addiction to power and  fame, why would god not want to show himself, here is the creator of the universe the most powerful being in the infinity of space and time and he refuses to show himself but instead sends his son, to go down to this little speck of dust and preach his thoughts or was the son a little rebellious and decided to take matters

Into his own hands yet god still ready to sacrifice his only son and we the people think that is ok and we are to raise our hands in the air and yell hallelujah and praise god for his son’s murder, really, I know others have issues with  this as well, what is god hiding, is he not as handsome and perfect as his son or is he just jealous of youth and a virgin birth, maybe god is on meds trying to get away from his hectic schedule traveling here and there throughout the universe creating other beings and giving them their garden of eden and I wonder how

That is working out we know how our eden was manipulated to sucker eve and then adam into a holy drama and we are the results, living on a planet being destroyed by corrupt wealth and where is our savior maybe he is skating around a black hole showing off his talent for his son who is pissed at him for having him in house arrest for his sexual appetite maybe god is on an extended vacation and he is traveling with a mask for the air quality isn’t very good because the world has been polluted not only by chemicals and carbon monoxide but by

Corporate dominance our time is getting closer to an end this tiny spec of dust is lost in infinite space without a means of escape, so that is why having a heaven to look forward too is the only way the kings and queens could placate the life style of their slaves, as they lived in opulence, greed and murder. And the poor dreamed of an afterlife where all would be hunky-dory, what a crock of shit the bible is a howl, a rant of ones ego going off on the structure of existence and needing something, anything to bridge the pain of living with the paradise of hope, we grow up

And have a frightening realization our own universal, existential revelation that our bodies are carriers not of a spiritual hope but the emptiness of words and the bodies limited life, the mind a facade of hope when in fact we are crushed with the thoughts of being alone, separate with our lives hidden in oneself with  an outer shell visually seen but ignored, what is this place, this earth, a holding ground for one to find their truth, but what truth will sustain you through life and into death, we are apart, alone without truly knowing others, we hear their

Voices, their laughs, their anger, their violence, their hate and yet we are separate, a surface covering only flesh, when I speak my words cruel duality that is all I have to express my inner being, and these words are stifling copies  of another’s voice I imitate to make my point in this figment of my imagination, a screen used to represent my emptiness, I can touch but can’t feel the hope of understanding the power that rule are not gods but selfish personalities, ego’s of manipulation carving into our minds a stage play and we are characters in

Their play, without purpose we assume a life leading to a dead end we hunger to be told what to think, what to do like herded cattle we roam chewing our cud corralled ready for the slaughter once our minds began sensing something undermining our existence for we couldn’t read the minds of others so we had to rely on their actions, to speak their truth always hidden underneath flesh as the anger building and the deep despair that we are pawns in a bigger reality fearing our isolation, our separation from each other our thoughts isolated from the human

Pact our secrets dug deep in the inner consciousness of a false hope of with no explanation but the ones that control us, take from us our simple life to be exploited for-profit when we began to project outward our fears and  we needed someone or something to know and understand our inner world of thoughts, so we began to create gods to lighten our fears of desperation and our fear of others, tribes formed as we projected our lives outside our own consciousness and ceremonies of our newly discovered power in worship became

Our legitimate path of salvation, we created gods that would speak to our silence, directly to our mental needs, an inner security that we are being heard not in words but thoughts projected outward to our savior, we would be safe, secure in our knowing that our prayers to the almighty in heaven would give us hope and lessen our fears of isolation of our physical and mental presence and this new world of gods was born through human nature a need to be part of something even if one couldn’t see any other alternatives, shamans of the past just as greedy

As our religions today seeking power over the populace to direct them to their god, a man enthralled with only himself, free will is an illusion through manipulation, a conditioning of oneself to believe one is free within repetitive  desires that narrow your ability to be free of the controlling fears that are created by the power of lies, for everyone now is a sinner and without redemption without a god in a book written centuries ago to placate the suffering people into believing there is hope, for your resurrection is either in paradise, hell or limbo, more likely fire or dirt

#stoick haddock #heaven #separation #savior #greed #power #addiction #cjcorwinoriginal

0 notes

artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

But I'm A Cheerleader! - Chapter 27 (Aja x Farrah) - Millie

A/N: hey sorry it’s been a while. Mock exams are a bitch to get through, but I had my final one today, so hopefully the next update will come sooner (although no promises lmao). Anyway, enjoy!

Those two weeks before prom zoomed by so quickly, Aja barely noticed it. Everyone was so caught up in the hype, worrying about hair and makeup and things that they didn’t even need to worry about. Aja still wasn’t overly excited, but it did make her happy to see all her friends enjoying themselves. She was all organised, and didn’t really have a care in the world.

Farrah, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly feeling that smooth cruise of relaxation. Her dress had only just arrived the day before, and in the wrong colour, of all things. Sure, pink was her favourite, but she’d ordered blue, goddamnit! Needless to say, it led to her stress-crying into Aja’s chest last night.

On top of that, every makeup artist in the area was fully booked for the next few weeks. All the other students were having their makeup done professionally (apart from Aja, who figured she could do it herself), and she’d feel kind of stupid doing it herself instead. Others were just more organised, and must’ve booked very early in advance - makeup jobs didn’t exactly get handed out in Hollywood.

“Farrah, you literally take a Hair & Beauty class,” Aja had laughed at her. “I’m sure whatever you do will be crazy gorgeous.”

Farrah blushed, but it didn’t distract her from her panic. “But it won’t be professional!” she whined.

“That doesn’t matter,” Aja said. “What matters is that you have a fun night.” She squeezed her girlfriend’s arm.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

Aja tilted her head at her, raising one eyebrow. “Yes, I am,” she said. “Farrah - you’ll be absolutely fine. And I get that you’re stressed, but you’ve got your dress, and isn’t that, like, the most important part to you?”

“… I guess.”

Aja squeezed her hand; in any other place she’d kiss Farrah’s forehead or something, but they weren’t out to the rest of the school. But that worked for them - it was better than every student in a mile’s radius trying to intrude in on their private lives.

Farrah returned the gesture. “I just hope it goes well.”

“Of course it will, babe.”

Sasha and Aja were getting ready in Sasha’s room that evening, sorting their dresses and hair and such. Sasha had had her makeup done already, and she looked absolutely stunning. The beautician had attempted to do something with her bundle of blonde curls (or frizz), but to no avail. Only Sasha really knew how to style her hair and what it needed, so she’d have just been better off doing it herself.

Sasha’s room was full of obscurely-shaped mirrors that you couldn’t really see your own reflection in clearly, so it was difficult for Aja to know what she looked like in her dress (Sasha had nailed her technique, but Aja couldn’t quite get it). Of course, Farrah had insisted she looked beautiful the first time she saw her, but that wasn’t really enough to go off of.

Aja was carefully tending to her makeup when Sasha suddenly spoke up, sounding more nervous than usual.

“I have a question,” Sasha said, her voice slightly wobbly.

“Hmm?” Aja replied, concentrating on her eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“How do you know if you love someone?” she asked.

“Uh…” Aja said, pulling back from the mirror to look at her best friend. “I don’t really know, Sash.”

“You probably want context?” Aja nodded to this. “The thing is… I think I love Shea. But- I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and she just makes me so unbelievably happy.”

Aja beamed. “Well, that makes me glad, because I thought you were having cold feet or something.” She laughed, and so did Sasha, her shoulders relaxing. “But I don’t know what to tell you, ‘cause that’s something you have to know for yourself. However, in my not-so-humble opinion, I’d be damned if you didn’t love her. I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other.”

Sasha smiled for a second, before her expression dropped again. “Is it too early to say it to her?” she asked.

Aja shrugged. “You guys have been together for, what, two months?” she asked. “Do whatever feels right.”

She nodded slowly. Sasha was beyond intelligent, but she knew it took a lot more than how clever she was to calculate the right time to bring such a thing up. Shea had grown to mean so much to her in the short amount of time they’d been together, and she wasn’t about to scare her off or something. Not that Shea would ever spook like that.

Aja went back to her makeup, and Sasha went back to her hair, which she was trying to tame. On the bright side, it was looking far better than what she’d started with in the first place. Aja was almost done with her makeup - she was just on the eyes now, and then they’d be ready to go.

“Do you love Farrah?” Sasha asked after a few minutes of silence.

Aja almost dropped her liquid eyeliner, and her hand with the applicator in it froze.

“Do I- do I what?” she questioned. Of course she’d heard her, but she needed a few extra seconds to prepare an answer.

“Do you love Farrah?” Sasha repeated. She seemed more unfazed than before.

“I, err, I don’t know,” Aja said.

Aja had never been in love before, but she couldn’t yet say the same for Farrah. The very thought of being in love almost scared her - the control someone had over you, the way you felt about every one of their actions… And with Farrah, she felt that, but in a good way rather than bad. Sure, she was already head over heels for the girl, but love? Maybe not yet.

“She makes you happy, right?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah, of course!” Aja said. “But I don’t know if it’s love. At least, not yet.” She went back to her eyeliner once her pulse had slowed down.

For a moment, her mind wondered back to Dahlia, a place she hadn’t visited in quite a while. Normally when this happened, something would fester in the pit of Aja’s stomach, growing and spreading like a weight throughout her body - it felt like regret most of the time, and sadness and/or anger, as well. Most of all, she regretted ruining their friendship, all over some stupid crush a year or two ago. That’s what hurt the most. But at that moment, when she thought of Dahlia, all she felt was bittersweet memories, without the grain of salt.

For a shitty school hall, the prom venue was exquisite. The linoleum floor looked as if it were sparkling faintly, and ribbons and balloons coloured purple and white (possibly a nod to the Glamazons’ win) adorned the ceiling and walls.

Aja walked behind Sasha and Shea, holding hands and sharing a look of adoration. Sasha gave Aja a quick, “See you in a minute?”, before going inside with her girlfriend. The music boomed into the open air.

Aja pulled out her phone to check if Farrah was on her way, and sure enough she was.

Farrah Just walking up now. <3

Aja smiled at the little heart at the end, biting her lip as she looked towards the school entrance, anticipating Farrah’s arrival.

A couple of minutes later, a beautiful vision in pink was strolling up the driveway to the back of the school hall, her hair flowing in a waterfall of blonde waves. A smile broke out on Farrah’s face as soon as she spotted Aja outside the doors, and she picked up her pace without tripping in her heels. Aja’s jaw dropped at the sight of her girlfriend, for this was the first time she’d seen her in her prom dress, and she looked absolutely transcendent. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that it’d come in the wrong colour, because either way, Farrah looked gorgeous.

“You look- you look beautiful,” Aja told her. If they weren’t surrounded by classmates, Aja wouldn’t have resisted kissing her right now.

Farrah broke out into a smile. “So do you,” she said. “You need to wear dresses more often.” She extended her hand for Aja to take, which she did, and they walked into the hall together. The volume of the music increased as soon as they were inside, and the two went over to join their friends.

The evening seemed to drag, probably because standing around doing virtually nothing wasn’t that appealing to Aja, but eventually the lights darkened and the music slowed down. In movies, this was the cue for everyone to stop what they were doing and find someone to slow dance with, and the loners were pushed out to the sides to make room for the vast amount of couples. Of course, Sasha and Shea paired up and made their way to the dance floor, where the other couples were already starting to gather.

It wasn’t like Aja to panic, yet she did, erratically looking around the room with eyes like a startled deer’s. The only person she wanted to dance with was Farrah, but no way would that happen in front of everyone at school.

Farrah took Aja’s clenched fist and gave her a reassuring smile. “Do you want to?” She nodded towards the middle of the hall.

“Yeah, of course, but-”

“People will just think we’re good friends,” Farrah said. “So, why not?”

But Aja didn’t want everyone to assume they were just “good friends”. Sure, it was the more comfortable option, but she wanted them to be seen as more than that. Something inside Aja made her want to show off her girlfriend, made her want to let everyone in close vicinity know that they were together - not in a bragging way, but in a more appreciative way… And in a proud way. She just wanted to take that leap, but unnecessary nerves wouldn’t let her.

This would be better than nothing.

Aja squeezed Farrah’s hand, and she was led to the centre of the dance floor. Farrah rested her hands on Aja’s shoulders and laced her fingers loosely around the back of her neck, smiling warmly. Aja was pretty sure she should’ve put her hands on Farrah’s waist, so she acted on that instinct. Her only knowledge of slow dancing was from cheesy movies that her girlfriend had made her watch, and she’d never really been one for those kinds of sentiments.

Farrah smiled up at her, tucking a stray wisp of purple hair behind Aja’s ear. She began to sway to the music, and Aja followed her lead, very slowly moving around in a circle on the spot. She could feel the many eyes on her, but she didn’t dare let anyone have the satisfaction of knowing that. After all, it wasn’t something uncommon to her - she’d had people stare at her her whole life. Either for her abundance of piercings, her acne scars, or the wild colours in her hair. But this was new, and strangely, she didn’t mind it.

Farrah wrapped her fingers in the tips of Aja’s hair, twirling pieces around. “See?” she spoke softly. “Not so bad.”

“You’re not worried at all?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always been quite open with who I am,” she said. “Sure, I worry about some other things, but this? Nah.”

Aja chuckled at her. “Fair enough,” she said.

“And, uh, I also wanted to talk to you about something.”

Aja furrowed her eyebrows. “What is it?” she asked.

“Well.” She sighed, bowing her head with a nervous smile. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’ll just come out with it. It’s probably way too early for you, but, err, I love you.” She looked back up, her pupils widening at Aja’s stone-still face.

Aja’s body froze in its place, stopping both of their movement. Farrah could sense her girlfriend’s haste, and immediately moved her hand from Aja’s hair back to her shoulder.

“Too soon?” she questioned. “Oh, God, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Aja assured, sporting a half smile. “I just don’t think I’m ready to say it back yet. And, babe, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you at all, it just- I don’t know; I’m gonna start rambling. But I don’t want it to feel forced, you know?”

Farrah nodded, but the hurt was clear. She understood, of course, but she couldn’t help but feel raw and exposed in that moment. And Aja couldn’t help but feel like she’d ripped out a piece of her girlfriend’s heart.

#but i'm a cheerleader #millie #farraja #aja #farrah moan #au #rpdr fanfiction #submission #cheerleader au #lesbian au

26 notes · View notes