#no wonder i feel like complete shit almost every single fucking day
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Last night I got slapped right in the face by a huge reality check slap and oof I am feeling completely shitty today.
#i was in a house with some friends playing some board games#and there's this guy#who is a gym enthusiast but not really in the crazy way someone can imagine him#but a very cool down to earth guy#and we were talking about stuff#and i was like#yeah i sometimes eat once per day maybe zero but usually twice#and the guy was genuinely worried about me#like.. fuck me#i am used to this shit#but i know it's not right#and i cannot do anything about it because i simply did not ever care about myself enough to do anything#no wonder i feel like complete shit almost every single fucking day#i need an actual diet#i need actual help if i want to feel at least normal#ugh#depression level is too high right now#i need to cope somehow#huh... i remember one time that i was healthy#it was nice
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hit me, part 2
wc: 2.5k, largely unedited warnings: swearing/language, talk of homophobia, physical injury a/n: omg hey. this part takes place directly after part 1. things are starting to happen...!also idk shit about shit so don't come at me for the medical stuff if its wrong :) tags: @elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husbandur-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm@dragonasflowercrown
part 1
part 1.5
"So...where are we going?"
"It's a clearing. In the woods." Ellie's hands lazily slide around the steering wheel as she speaks. You could daydream while staring at Ellie for hours. It's relaxing to watch her drive.
"Hm. Are you gonna...kill me there? Or something?" You joke.
"Still deciding."
"Oh my—are you seriously still mad?"
She says nothing, pretending to be engaged with driving.
You let out an irked breath.
"Okay—Ellie, I'm sorry. I was wasted out of my mind. And you look really different. Like, not just in your face. Everywhere is different." You confess, fiddling with the stickers peeling off of her dashboard.
"So do you. I still managed to fuckin' figure it out."
"I—I think I almost did? I remember looking at you and feeling really—confused, mostly. I didn't understand why I liked this stranger so much." You say, vaguely remembering how clingy and overt you acted last night.
"You were confused? I was fucking confused," her head swivels to yours. "a lesbian? That's what you are now?"
"Don't—don't say it like that. I came out like everyone else. You just weren't there to hear it."
Ellie lets out a choked laugh.
"Oh, Bullshit."
"Excuse me?"
"I wrote you and called you for fucking months. Nothing. A letter a fucking day. Are you listening? Do you know how many letters that is?"
You stay silent. Your hands ball up where they rest on your lap.
"Fuckin' say something! I even asked Dina for your number but you cut her off too! Is there a reason you basically fucking died?"
"I wasn't home, Ellie."
She stills, her shoulders relaxing a touch. She adjusts back towards the road before clearing her throat.
"At...at sixteen? What happened?"
You recall you, sixteen, sobbing and frantic. Tearing apart the letter Ellie wrote to tell you that she left. Wondering why it felt more like a breakup then your actual one did. Cursing yourself over and over and over again for only being sixteen. Your parents cursing Ellie for corrupting you.
"I feel like you can connect the dots." Your voice is just barely loud enough to hear over the droning tone of the car. The only focus you had at this point was trying not to cry in front of Ellie.
"Oh, fuck, y/n. I'm—I'm sorry. Did those fuckers kick you out?"
"No," you sigh. "I just knew I had leave. They're...crazy. I don't know. I'm fine now."
Her knuckles flex and tense over the steering wheel. Her teeth start to bite at her lips. There's a couple more seconds of quiet before she speaks up.
"I wish I would've been there."
You pause, not totally expecting what she said.
"Yeah," you breathe, gazing at the side of her head. "I wished that too."
And that wasn't a lie. Your family instilled a lot on you, mostly turning you away from religion. But then? You were desperate. Painfully, achingly desperate. And completely alone. After you left home, you prayed every single night. A genuine prayer, on your knees and everything. You even bought a $1.50 pocket bible from goodwill. All to aide in your bedtime routine of begging God to make Ellie come back.
She never did. You've been an atheist ever since. You weren't sure if her being here now changed anything.
The silence marinates for a short while longer until you feel the rocky texture of a gravel road beneath the car.
"We're here," Ellie states, throwing the gear in park. She takes a glance at your feet. "and you should've worn better shoes. We have walking to do."
You both hop out of the car.
"Like you couldn't have told me before we left?" You scoff.
"It's more fun to fuck with you later. C'mon," she grabs your hand, tightly clutching it in hers. "there's coyotes and shit around here. Don't be fuckin' stupid and stay close."
You try to will the warmth away from your cheeks. You've never held Ellie's hand before. Even if this doesn't really count as holding.
"Yeah, got it." You force out.
She leads you into the trees, hand warmly on yours, briskly following a mental path she's clearly walked many times.
"I almost got arrested over here," She sighs, far too casually.
"What?!"
"Damn—I said almost, chill." She assures, laughing at your shock.
You lightly slap her shoulder.
"I don't care! Almost getting arrested is still crazy!" You chide, eyes wide and judgmental.
Ellie's always been pretty...rebellious, but a part of you always thought that she'd be smart enough to avoid anything truly consequential. I guess she still is, you think.
"Lemme explain, ok. I was high as fuck, minding my business, when I saw some kids shootin'—a wolf, I think? Maybe a coyote—I saw them just...fuckin' up this poor thing with a—a BB gun."
"Oh my god..." You say, "What did you do?"
"I didn't do shit at first—I thought they'd stop. But they were like—about to kill this thing, I swear to God. So, I...ha..." Her face breaks into a wide smile. "you're not gonna like this,"
"...What. Not gonna like what."
"I pulled my gun on 'em."
"Ellie!"
"It wasn't even loaded, y'know I like to have it with me just in case..."
"They're kids!—"
"Asshole kids. Ok? And it fuckin' worked so—"
"I thought you said you almost got arrested?"
"Jesus—I did. You keep interrupting me—"
"Sorry." You quip, also realizing you just interrupted her with your apology.
"It's—it's fine. Anyway, those fucks called the cops on me after they ran. I found out cause the fuckin' pigs stopped me and asked if I'd seen an 'armed gunman in the area,'" She says, imitating a deep 'cop' voice. "dumbasses had no clue it was me."
You watch as she laughs, amused at her own story. Suddenly, your foot gets caught under a thick root and your arms fly out in an instant.
Ellie's hands hit your shoulders, grasping them upright, causing you to sharply crash into her chest.
"Oh—shit, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." You gasp out, trying to regain your balance while loosening your grip on Ellie's coat.
"No, it's those fuckin' shoes," she rebukes, hands still resting on your shoulders. She immediately takes them off you when she notices. "we're almost there anyway. Try not to kill yourself before then."
Your hand burns at your side, palm itching. Is she going to grab it again?
"Where's 'there'?" You ask, glancing around at the wall of trees and shrubbery encircling you both.
"You'll see. Just stay close." She repeats like before, clutching your hand once again.
You tighten your grip, wanting to show Ellie you're listening.
"Good. Let's move."
The two of you walk for about a mile or so more, before the view steals your eyes and you both freeze.
"Oh—wow, Ellie. This is really pretty," you breathe, entranced by the piercingly vibrant colors and towering mountainous structures.
Her head is turned toward you, taking in your reaction to the sight, instead of the sight itself.
She's must've seen it so many times, you think.
"Yeah, you like it? I knew you would." She tells you, unable to keep the satisfied grin from her face.
"Shut up. I'm still mad you didn't even let me get ready this morning."
"There's nobody here. Who're you fuckin' getting ready for?" She barks, arms wide and gesturing.
I still wanted to get ready for you, Ellie. But obviously you don't say that.
"Whatever. You just did it to be a dick." You mutter, plopping yourself down onto the boulder in front of you.
"Yeah, I did. It's funny when you're mad. You're like a cat." She laughs, sitting down next to you.
"That's toxic. You shouldn't make people mad just cause you find it funny." You chide, crossing your legs over the rock.
"Guess I'm toxic, then." She sighs, carelessly throwing pebbles at your head.
"Was that the plan? Sit on a rock and be mean to me?"
"Truly adorable that you think this is mean—"
"Well it's not nice, that's for sure." You huff.
Ellie shifts so that her body faces yours. Her legs spread out wide, elbows comfortably resting on her thighs.
"I don't think you want me to be nice to you."
Your mouth parts open in surprise, eyes now burning into Ellie's.
"Well that's a lie. I'd love for you to be nice—"
"I think you like when I'm mean to you. I think you...prefer it, actually." She juts, a confident smile forming.
"Yeah, and who told you that, Dina?" You question, crossing your arms as a breeze starts to make you shiver.
"Nobody told me anything." her head quirks to the side. "I can just tell."
It was difficult to keep your composure. There were some things Ellie seemed to know about you that you didn't even know yourself. It was terrifying, embarrassing, and flattering all at once. Your face feels like its melting. You stay silent.
"Oh—am I right? I've totally got you, haven't I?" She asks, enjoying fully the power she seems to have over you and your emotions.
"No." You bite, unwilling to try and say anything else.
You hated how often Ellie was right.
She takes a ball of black fabric from her pocket, tossing it in your lap. It's a hat.
"Put it on. It's cold."
A swarm of bats fly over the both of you, chaotic and eruptive.
"It's gonna be dark, Ellie."
"I know, I know. I was, uh—saving the best for last." She quips, hopping off of the rock to stand in front of you.
It felt kind of awkward this way, Ellie fully standing while you sat. You had to look straight up to meet her eyes. It put your head in whirl.
"What, the tattoo? I saw that already."
"No. Something else," She grabs your hand and places it on the bottom hem of her top. Your heart beats a little faster.
"Lift up my shirt."
Your eyes widen as your hand fidgets. You wait for her to keep talking. She doesn't.
"Um...like all the way?" You struggle to find words. "Or—"
"Lift up," her hand grasps yours, guiding it up. "my shirt."
Fabric shifts and the pale flesh of her abdomen comes into view. Her belly is lean—all hard edges and dense muscle. What catches your eye is the long, winding, angry scar tracing along her hip.
Your brain goes into overdrive.
Traumatic injury, surgery needed... most likely...flexor or... IT band tendonitis? Maybe, what, Bursitis? Something...invasive—a tear? Labral tear? Iliopsoas tear? What the fuck was she doing?
"Street fighting." She states. "It's my job."
Your face is blank. You shakily stand.
"Uhhh—you, you better be fucking with me, Ellie." You stutter out. Unconsciously, you move to trace your finger along the scar, feeling the warped, healed skin. "I mean this is...this is serious. This is...surgery."
"Don't I fuckin' know it," she moves her shirt back down, covering the scar. "took me out of the ring for like, eight weeks."
"Jesus—Jesus Christ. How long have you been doing this!?"
"Not much longer than you've been in school, really."
"So, not long. Is what you're saying." your fingers rake through your hair. "This is...this is fucking crazy."
"It's not that—"
"Dina's okay with this? Really. I really don't see how she could be okay with this, like, at all." You argue, cutting her off.
"She wasn't. I had to convince her."
"And how often do you go to the doctor? Once a week? Or do you pretend like you know how to patch yourself up?"
Her face slightly reddens.
"I—I learned how to do it myself. I know how."
"Oh sure. Did you google it? I'm sure google will save you from a life threatening injury."
"Ok, most of them are not 'life threatening'—"
"You don't know that! Not certainly, at least! Not certain enough to be safe!" You exclaim, voice full of anger, but mostly, fear.
She places a hand on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. She doesn't talk until you meet her eyes.
"Hey. I am fine. The hip thing was a fluke. Honest. Most of the time nothing fuckin' happens." She assures, her other hand rubbing up and down your arm. You must've looked more upset than you'd realized.
"Ok."
"Just, 'ok'? Are we...good now?" Ellie asks, blue eyes still deeply connected to yours.
"Um...yeah..." You say, partly hesitating. Ellie watches you closely.
"I wanna go with you."
Her face lights up in...shock?, you think, a pleased grin shaping her mouth.
"What—really?"
"If you really want to do...this," you bite your lip. "being there is what would make me feel...better...about it."
"Yeah? That's...I mean, I think that's great," She says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "my own cheerleader."
You step backwards, letting Ellie's hands slide away from your body.
"No, not a cheerleader. A fucking medic. So I'm not sitting home worried about you—dying. I can just be there to help if stuff goes wrong."
"I'm happy either way, princess." She gleams.
As the sun sets, it gets harder to make out the shape of her face. The woods are also quieter, amplifying the subtle sounds of you and Ellie. You wonder about the details of your plan.
"Do I have to pay to get in? How does this...work?"
"No, you're set. Pretty girls get in free—it's a club rule. Y'know, good for business and everything."
You thank the sky for it's darkness, as Ellie is unable to see the rosy hue reaching your cheeks.
"Oh. Okay...good to know."
Ellie steps up, and now familiarly, encloses your hand in hers.
"C'mon. It's too fuckin' dark to stay any longer."
You walk out of the clearing, back into the dense foliage of where you came. Your grip tightens.
"So...have you had girlfriend?" Ellie blurts.
"Um, weird question, but," you look away. "no."
"Just...trying to gauge how good of a lesbian you are. Pretty bad, it seems."
"Oh, fuck off. I've been focusing on...school." You retort, fully knowing how lame it sounds.
If you were being honest, it was just nerves. You didn't have to try for a boyfriend, he basically wouldn't even take 'no' for an answer. But with girls? It was like you froze.
"Hey I'd give you some tips but...I don't think they'd really...apply for you, y'know?"
"No, I don't know. Explain it." You demand.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm trying think of a way where it makes...sense. And won't make you mad."
"I won't get mad Ellie. Just say it." You encourage, now more curious than anything.
She stops walking and turns to you.
"Well, it's like...the roles. The roles you can have."
"What...roles...?"
She huffs a laugh before continuing, and positions her hand to point to herself.
"I'm the type that flusters the girl. The...fluster-er, right?"
She walks forwards, getting so close that you can smell the scents of the forest soaked up in her clothing.
"And you," She says, her finger poking your collarbone. "...are the girl that...is flustered. It's a...a dynamic, yeah?"
Your skin heats and all you can do is gaze at Ellie, who's completely enthused with this discussion. She stays quiet, watching your face intently, despite it being so dark.
"You're making stuff up again. I don't even—I don't even know why I let you talk." You utter.
"See? You're doing it already! It's the fuckin' dynamic princess—you know I'm never wrong." She gushes, pinching at your checks and making them even redder.
"This so stupid. And don't call me that."
It was like the world stopped. As soon as you said it, you could see Ellie's brain distinctly remembering you, in that whiny drunken voice, begging. You won't ever forget it. And neither will Ellie, for completely different reasons.
You knew exactly what she was going to say, so you try and stop her.
"Don't. I don't care what I did yesterday. Just—don't."
She sighs, clearly dropping it. Thank god. Her teeth bite the inside of her cheek.
"Whatever you say, princess."
You don't even acknowledge it, just rolling your eyes as you walk ahead. Stray branches brush over your legs and thighs, feeling like gentle scratches. You slow a bit, waiting for Ellie to join you.
And hold your hand again.
Stepping ahead of you to lead, Ellie does just that. The warmth makes you smile, and you let it own your face, bright and wide. You didn't care. It was dark enough.
"Alright. Stay close."
"I know, Ellie."
#ellie williams x reader#ellie fic#ellie x reader#tlou#tlou part 2#tlou fic#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams fic#catsfor2
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𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔦 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰𝔫’𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱
𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱
Soulmates. What a fucking joke.
It was borderline hilarious to think that a red piece of string no thicker than twine would somehow wrap around a stranger’s pinky and your own, and then suddenly be proclaimed one by the cosmos. It was a reality for your society though, and god did you fucking hate it.
You especially hated it since your soulmate was the reason you were dying.
It had all started during your first year at UA. Adrenaline was coursing through everyone’s veins as they entered the gargantuan doors of the prestigious Class 1-A classroom, marvelling at the sheer size of it.
Katsuki was one of the first people there. Being surprisingly introverted, he wanted to avoid the crowds and find a good seat where he could chill before he could blow shit to oblivion. What he hadn’t intended was for his finger to start twitching like crazy the second the door swung open again.
His pinky finger.
In a single second, a red rope split from the tip of his finger before looping its way around his pinky and travelling across the room to where you stood in awe. Your finger was also driving you insane as the exact same thing happened to you before the rope connected the two of you in the centre.
Both of you stood gobsmacked at the revelation of finding your soulmate. You were filled with so much excitement, so happy and!- wait. Why is he scowling?
Katsuki could feel the initial excitement wear away before the usual irritation seeped through him. Great. Another fucking distraction. He turned his head away from you with an uninterested look, almost shooing you away.
Your smile faltered a little, but not before you gripped your backpack and attempted to make conversation.
“All right class, it took you all seven minutes to shut up. That’s not gonna fly”.
It was so difficult for you to get the handsome stranger’s attention. All throughout the first day, every time you attempted to strike up a conversation, you would be dismissed with a scoff or him immediately walking away.
It was frustrating to say the least. It was an absolute shit show after the training exercise too; Bakugou, as you learned, had a temper as unruly as his hair. Luckily for you, unluckily for him, you managed to catch up to him and nudged him gently on the shoulder.
He glared at you with an intent look, one definitely made to kill.
“What.”
You gulped a little at his gruff scoff before regaining your composure and adorned a small smile.
“Look, I don’t know if you didn’t realise, but we’re soulmates. I was wondering if-“ you were interrupted before you even got the chance to finish.
“You listen here, right freakin’ now. I’m here to become the world’s best hero ever, and I do not need any distractions. This whole soulmates thing is bullshit, just another “fuck you” to people with goals. Do whatever the hell you want, just leave me the fuck alone,” he seethed lowly.
You gulped a little at his intensity. A nervous smile entered your face as you tried to calm him down.
“I understand that it’s… sudden to say the least, but I’d at least like to be friends with you! Your abilities in the training exercise today were really cool, and-” your rambles were ceased completely by an aggravated grunt.
“Did you not hear a fucking thing I just said?! I’m here to be a hero, not to make fucking friends! As far as you’re concerned, you’re an enemy. Nothing but a stone for me to secure my victory. You’re not fucking special just because of some stupid piece of string!” He yelled, causing you to shrink back.
“I was just trying to help you calm down, you seemed very upset after that green haired kid used his power against you,” you looked at him with worry in your eyes. If anything, your dopey eyes infuriated him more.
Something snapped in Bakugou as he lifted you by the collar, causing you to squirm uncomfortably in the air. His palms smoked against your uniform.
“I’m only gonna say this one more fucking time. Leave. Me. The hell. Alone. Go find someone else to fucking pity you useless bitch,” he released you with a scoff as you fell on your ass.
“Tch. As if the universe sent someone as pathetic as you to be with someone like me,” he scoffed as he turned to walk home, leaving you to tear up in horror at how mean your soulmate was.
Unfortunately for you, that single event triggered a near year long bullying. Constant harassment never stopped following you, whether you pestered Bakugou or not. Harshly bumping into you in the halls, criticising your training techniques unfairly and accidentally totally on purpose spilling his protein shakes on your assignments, making them nearly illegible. Aizawa shook his head at your “clumsiness”, often giving you more laps for undone homework or even berating you in front of your classmates.
You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to tell Aizawa the truth. Something bugged you about how troubled your soulmate was to deliberately cause you such aggro. It wasn’t even stuff that you could really tell a teacher for; criticism for fighting villains? Bumping into you in the halls?
You figured that he needed time to sort out his teenage angst, but the bullying was starting to get to you. The belittling comments made you hyper-aware of mistakes, making you anxious easily. Seeds of doubt sewed themselves deep in your brain, making sleep a troublesome process.
Ochaco and Tsu took note of how badly Bakugou seemed to get under your skin, so they took it upon themselves to arrange a day out for you and the girls in the new cat cafe in the prefecture.
“Y’know, I really don’t understand why you won’t tell Aizawa the real reason why you’re struggling (N/N),” Ochaco looked at you worriedly, petting the small white cat perched in her lap. The other girls murmured into agreement.
“For real, Bakugou treats you like utter shit. I mean, he treats everyone like that but you and Midoriya seem to have it the worst,” Jirou said. You gently petted the one-eyed calico cat on the cat tree next to you.
“I understand what you mean, I really do. Don’t get me wrong, he really pisses me off at times, but sometimes I wonder if he’s okay. Like, it can’t be healthy how angry he is,” you pondered quietly.
“But (Y/N), every time you try to talk to him, he always ignores you or says something really mean. Are you sure there’s nothing deeper going on?” Yaoyorozu asked delicately. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the implication.
“Yeah (N/N)! Do you have some kind of masochistic infatuation with him?” Mina asked devilishly. You shook your head determinedly, mindful of the meowing kitties playing on the cat trees.
“No that’s not it at all!! I just think there’s something a little bit deeper to him!! I don’t like him or anything!!” Your face heated up as Mina’s face finally lit up in realisation.
“Oh. My. God. NO WAY?!?” Mina squealed, hugging you tightly. The girls looked at each other in confusion, before starting to realise one by one. Yaomomo looked at you in slight disgust.
“(N/N). Is it true? Is Bakugou your… soulmate?” She didn’t look very pleased at the realisation. You looked down with heated cheeks as you twiddled your thumbs.
“…yes.”
A plethora of differing emotions scattered across the table. Mina seemed thrilled at the idea of you finding your soulmate; Jirou and Yaomomo seemed disgusted; Ochaco and Tsu seemed pitiful whilst Hagakure… well. You couldn’t tell.
“I know what it looks like. I think that underneath that anger and frustration, there’s a good guy. I don’t want to dismiss him as his soulmate immediately because what if I skip out on the best relationship of my life? I think he is really a sweet guy,” you murmured.
“Babe you’re literally delusional,” Jirou glanced at you.
“I agree with Kyouka. Bakugou clearly wants nothing to do with you. You’re only going to get yourself hurt, and as your friend I hate seeing him being so crude to you,” Yaomomo rubbed your hand gently.
“Mhm! It’s not healthy the way he treats you. Soulmate or not, that’s no excuse to treat you so meanly,” Ochaco angrily pouted. Tsuyu turned to look at you.
“(N/N), we’re just saying this because we care. We’ll support you no matter what you do, but please don’t allow yourself to get hurt moving oceans for a guy who wouldn’t jump over a puddle, ribbit,” Tsuyu said.
“Thanks girls, I really appreciate your advice. I’m gonna leave him alone now I think,” you reply sadly. Yaomomo rubbed your arm gently with a reassuring smile.
“It’s for the best, dear,” she said. And for the best it was.
Although Bakugou was still a pain in the ass, you kept to yourself and your friends. You only bothered with him when absolutely necessary for school, and even then it was just the bare essentials of conversation. You stopped asking him about his day, how his training was coming along and how he found the latest essay.
It unnerved him a bit. He didn’t enjoy being plagued by questions, but now you had left him alone? It was a silence he wasn’t used to. But he demanded you stopped talking, right? So why did he feel so… empty?
@sorrowfulrosebud do not copy, steal or translate my works without permission
#🥀 rambles#bnha x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou#bnha x reader angst#bakugou x reader angst#new series guys#soulmate au#soulmates? what a joke#part 1#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader angst
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this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)
masterlist
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader
synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you)
warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end
note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol.
wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)
The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks.
“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”
On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh.
You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller.
On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen.
“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.
“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside.
“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric.
“You need another outlet.”
You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-”
“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly.
You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.”
Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.”
You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.”
“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.
“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.”
You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years?
Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join.
Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave.
Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch.
Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.
“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.”
Cam and Cher share another weird look.
--
At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people.
“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend.
“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person?
But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs.
“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms.
“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says.
Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-
“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you.
You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him.
He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.”
You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is.
Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses.
A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.”
“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.”
She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.”
You’re confused. “Phoenix?”
“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything.
“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them.
“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you.
“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?”
“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.”
“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs.
“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.”
He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-”
“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.”
“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.”
You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever.
“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot.
“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed.
“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back.
“Guess we do,” he says shortly.
Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.”
“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously.
“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away.
At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?”
“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.”
You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat.
A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.
You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?”
“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”
“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer.
“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out.
“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out.
Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman.
--
Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around.
“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side.
“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.”
Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.
“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob.
Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues.
The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and-
Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!”
You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that).
They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine.
You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up.
Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return.
After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees.
You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks.
Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?”
“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman.
“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground.
You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this.
“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.”
Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?”
You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him.
“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!”
After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully.
“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time.
“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.”
Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly,
She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then.
“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster.
“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous.
You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.”
“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand.
You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.”
“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow.
She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?”
You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.”
She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”
“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face.
“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building.
You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella.
“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him.
He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.”
You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?”
He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.”
You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are.
You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?”
You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan.
He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.”
You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.”
“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?”
You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-”
He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-”
“I just got so angry-”
“As you should be-”
“And things have just been so hard lately-”
“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”
“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.
“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.
A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile.
“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully.
“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.”
Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"
"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking.
“Why?” he asks.
"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.”
Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue.
“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”
You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek.
“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.”
“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.
“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.”
Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh.
“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-”
“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember.
Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.”
You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”
“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”
The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is.
“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down.
You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.”
Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand.
You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?”
He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?”
You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.”
--
“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”
“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.”
“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”
“The devil- Oh REAL clever.”
Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent.
He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends.
Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future.
You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time.
Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo.
“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?”
“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”
“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.”
“I- what? Who gave you my address?”
“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up.
Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”).
“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.
“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses.
While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console.
He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach
“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot.
“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-”
“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.”
“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?”
He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-”
“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh.
“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”
Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens.
You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point).
Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.
“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk.
“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense.
The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up.
After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.
After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"
"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."
You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you.
"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."
“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?”
Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly.
“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again.
Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves.
When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”
You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.
“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”
A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.”
He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.”
You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off.
He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-”
He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”
You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly.
He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.”
The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you.
“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...”
You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.
Sweet niblets.
--
Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.
It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space.
Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”
Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.
“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”
He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”
You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”
A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.
“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”
You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.
Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”
That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea.
You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”
Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”
Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“
“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck. I gotta go, I think.”
“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?
“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls.
“They’re not adventures, hon-“
“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”
“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.
~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~
#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#topgun maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#mine#tw suicide mention
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OLDER ll Chris Evans
WARNINGS- SMUT. I honestly don’t know read at ur own risk tbh (it’s not too bad)
Your life wasn’t suppose to go like this. You’d had it planned out, or rather planned out for you, since birth. Born to celebrity parents, you’d had a college fund before you were born.
But you’d never went to college.
Now, twenty one years of age, you sat in the home of the one and only Chris Evans. Just like you’d done for the passing months. Your toothbrush sat adjacent to his in the master bathroom connected to his bedroom. You’d practically, though not technically, moved in.
He was in his early forties, much to the dismay of your parents. You’d been attracted to toxicity all your life, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to them. Chris had everything you’d wanted, a house, a fence, the dog to complete the picture of the American dream.
But you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t focused on you. He was distracted. He came home late and went to bed before you got the chance to speak or utter a single word towards eachother.
“I don’t fucking know Jenna. He just seems so- occupied. Like there’s no room for me in his busy life anymore. What should I do? Do I cut my losses and pack my shit?”
“Or..well I don’t know, you could talk to him? Like seriously y/n be a normal human being and speak to him about it.”
“Fine.”
You decided to throw on some lacy red lingerie and hoped he’d fuck you for the first time in weeks. Your mind had started to wonder if he was getting it somewhere else.
Click.
The door shut.
“Woah.” He said as he entered the room. You turned around to face him. His eyes eyed you up and down, examine every last detail of every curve and cell your body possessed.
“I-i’m tired.” He said.
What. The. Ever loving. Fuck.
“Are you fucking cheating on me?” You said, you didn’t mean for it to come out so suddenly but it did so the best option was to go with the flow.
“No! What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Well. Fuck Chris, I don’t know. You haven’t fucked me in two weeks, you’re always working late or doing whatever the fuck it is that you do, and immediately come home and fall dead asleep. You don’t even give me the goddamn time of day. That’s all I ask for. For you to talk to me.” You explained. Emphasizing the “working.”
His face went pale and his eyes briefly shut before re-opening.
“You’re right.”
“No fucking shit.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been stressed with work. I shouldn’t have done this.” He reasoned.
“So, there’s no one else?” You questioned.
“No baby. It’s only you.” He told you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to his tall figure.
It really, really, really, fucking turned you on. Your panties were already soaked in your wetness.
“I get that. But you need to speak to me about it instead of you shutting me out. Okay?”
“Absolutely.” He says. His eyes traveled to your tits, eyeing them. You were surely dripping down your goddamn leg. No relief in two weeks had almost killed you. You ached for anything, some kind of pressure. You involuntary bucked your hips against him.
“Needy, huh baby? Guess we oughta do something about that.” He says.
“Yes. Please. Please.” You pleaded. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you’d already melted in a puddle at his feet.
“Lay down.” He said.
You obeyed and laid flat on your back. Usually you’d put up a fight, but you were so very worked up.
“Too many clothes…” He clicked his tounge as he tore of your lacy underwear.
He didn’t waste any time after that. He kissed up your thigh, up to your waistline, before traveling back down to your clit.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth. Please.”
His hot breathe alone would probably be enough to push you over the edge.
He simply nodded before diving into your heat. You immediately grabbed at his hair and moaned so loudly you thought every single neighbor of yours could hear you.
Not even two minutes later, you felt the familiar tension about to explode in your stomach. You finally reached your orgasm and screamed into the pillow. It wasn’t until now you’d realized you were crying. Mascara ran down your face from ecstasy.
“Fuck me. Fuck me please. Please.” You pleaded with him. You knew he needed relief too.
“Mmm. You want me to fuck you? How bad?”
“Please. I need you now. Please.” You pleaded.
In one swift movement he entered you, much to your surprise, but also relief. The ache you’d felt in your core had finally been satisfied. You bit into his shoulder until it fucking drew blood.
“So good. So tight for me. Such a good girl.”
You could only moan in reply. Even if you were to try speaking, your mouth would only scream.
“Oh god. Oh god. Chris. I’m going to fucking cum again.”
“Not yet baby.”
“Please. Please. I can’t. Too much.” You said, as he rubbed your clit to create even more tension.
“You can take it. I know you can.” He said.
“You can cum, baby, let it go.” He said. You both came in unison.
“Yes baby. You’re so fucking hot under me. I want you all the time.” He said, rolling over onto his back.
“Couldve if you’d spoke to me the past two weeks.” You poked his chest.
“I’m sorry baby. I’ll fuck you every night to make up for that.”
The End.
#chris evans#steve rodgers x reader#andy barber#sebastian stan#anthony mackie#timothee chamalet#chris x reader
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Shenanigans EXTRA (2/2) - Drum Contest! (THE END)
Summary: Katsuki has been struggling to propose to Y/N for months now. He comes up with a silly idea.
Shouto meets his long lost brother.
Warnings: Swear words. A lot of mentions of the naughty, but only in passing. Mentions of ding dongs. No actual smut though. 16+
Helpful note:
To make it easier I tried to play around with names to make it obvious who's who, so...
Izuku - Normal Izuku
Deku, Midoriya - Other world's Izuku
Katsuki - Normal Katsuki
Bakugou - Other world's Katsuki
I hope that helps!
First Chapter Master List
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
After a few minutes of silence the team finally calms down enough to actually start a proper conversation. Deku and Todoroki is sprawled out on the bed with Izuku and Shouto sitting on the edges, talking about hero life and Izuku’s battle scars.
You and your other self, together with the two Katsukis are sitting on the floor in one of the corners with your backs resting on the wall.
“So was it hard to find me in this universe?” You ask Bakugou, who looks away sheepishly with a slight blush on his face.
“Well… I had to work my ass off for months to have enough money and freedom to leave for a few weeks but funnily enough, I literally bumped into her in my first day. Then… it just happened. I barely had to do anything. It really felt like it was meant to be. Fucking freaky.”
“Yeah.” Your other self speaks up. “My friends thought I’m bonkers for meeting this random guy from another country every day to study together. But I just…couldn’t get enough of him.” She cuddles into Bakugou and you can’t hide the smile on your face as you look at the two lovesick idiots. They are so different from you two yet so similar at the same time; the love is just as deep but in a different kind of display. Their love is pure and romantic, a relationship full of hope and dreams while yours is more mature, more realistic yet just as bright, just as strong, if not stronger.
“Being in a long distance relationship really sucked.” Bakugou admits.
“Tell me about it!” Deku yells from the bed. “I was so done with waking up to you two having phone sex almost every single day!”
“Oh, shut up, we didn’t…” Bakugou is about to retort, but your other self laughs.
“No, we… did that quite a lot.”
“I knew it!” Apparently, Deku is more than happy to finally get a closure after wondering about all the weird noises coming from his best friend’s room.
“I’ve never done that.” Katsuki mutters next to you, looking offended like it’s your fucking fault.
“We literally moved in together almost right away. We work at the same agency. Damn, you live in the same building as your workplace, we literally could just run home and…”
“You did not do that. Did you?!” Izuku yelp from the bed, face beet red.
“Oh we did.” Katsuki gives him a shit eating smirk, clearly enjoying Izuku’s embarrassment.
“Going home is better than doing it in the locker room. I think.” Shouto mutters and that’s when Izuku decides he needs to get some water from the bathroom. He’ll be really disappointed when he realizes he can’t flush himself down the toilet.
“Fuck, I have band practice. I need to go soon.” Bakugou suddenly jumps up and takes his bag with him; there are two drumsticks sticking out of the side, quite battered by the look of it.
“If you tell me you play the drums I’m changing sides. The other me can take over Katsuki for me. He won’t know the difference.”
Damn, Bakugou Katsuki is a hot ass man anyway but drummer Bakugou Katsuki? Hot damn. Even the thought of it makes you feel all warm in all the inappropriate places.
“First of all, fuck you.” Katsuki retorts, flabbergasted. “Second of all, I would know the fucking difference. You look and act completely different, just how me and the blondie are different in a lot of ways. Third of all, if you think this bozo can outplay me with those chicken legs, you are really fucking stupid. I might not have a drum set at home but I do know how to play. I played drums since I was 11.”
“You play the drums?!” You can’t help but yell loudly. How did you not know that?! How?!
“He played the drums on the school festival in our first year. It was quite good.” Shouto adds.
“I can do much better than that pop shit we’ve played back then.”
“Is that a challenge, muscle brain?” Bakugou smirks, his eyes full of challenge and needless to say, Katsuki is in for the ride. “My practice finishes at 7 so see you there at 7:15. The bozos know the way.”
“If I win…” Katsuki looks at you with the same smirk. Mind blowing. “I’ll marry your fucking ass and you’ll never be able to leave me.”
Your heart leaps out of your chest. Is this really happening? Now? Like this? Well… okay. Okay, calm down, he might loose. Lol who are you kidding, THIS Katsuki? Loosing? No fucking way.
“Wipe the floor with his ass then, love.”
The way you two are eye fucking right now is downright disgusting but you can’t be bothered.
“Oh, I will, baby.”
~•💥•~
“Uhm, do you guys wanna go to Natsuo’s bar until 7?” Todoroki speaks up after Bakugou and Y/N leaves for band practice. You are a little bit offended that she’d left, but to be fair, she’s probably still extremely mindfucked by all this so it’s quite understandable she needs some space right now. She’s just a quirkless gal, she’s not used to this nonsense.
“He owns a bar?” Shouto looks up, clearly intrigued.
“Yeah, it’s half a bar and half a tattoo and piercing parlor. Quite edgy. The studio Kacchan is in is right next to it. They have open mic nights sometimes, his band plays there quite a lot.”
“Wow, your other self is quite cool, I must say.” You mumble, a little bit too infatuated with his other self for Katsuki’s liking so you get an elbow in your tummy. “Rude.”
~•💥•~
Natsuo’s bar is… sick as fuck. There is no other way to describe it. It’s massive but somehow still really homey, with dark wood covering the walls, the floor and ceiling. There are massive LED lights all over the place, red under the main counter, blue on the walls, white on the shelves full of random memorabilia, mostly old instruments and other music-related stuff like old vinyls and instrument parts, probably vintage and pricy as fuck. There is a massive doorframe on the side with hand painted curtains, blue flames and red feathers swirling together on the material. Some of the feathers are burnt by the fire, the edges black, the paint flaky, probably on purpose while some other ones are engulfed by the blue flames, just about to be burnt to a crisp and it’s the sickest design you’ve ever seen.
For some reason, you are the only one hyperventilating over the beautiful piece of art; Shouto looks like he’s about to throw up while Katsuki and Izuku just stares at the curtain like it personally offended them. You can barely see anything from their faces as “your team” is wearing a disguise to not freak out the customers but you really don’t need to be a genius to know something is wrong.
“Oh shit.” Katsuki mutters, slowly pulling Shouto towards the exit.
“Shou, let’s just chill in Todoroki-kun’s room, okay?”
Okay, what the fuck is happening.
“Can I go in?” Shouto asks Natsuo, who only nods, his eyes full of confusion.
“We told him about you, so he won’t freak out. We told our families about Y/N coming here before so… yeah, go on. He’s a bit rude but he’s harmless.”
“He’s harmless.” Katsuki mutters with a deadpanned expression on his face. “That’s… good to know.”
“Mind to explain why is everyone having a meltdown?” You whisper into Katsuki’s ear while Shouto and Izuku stomps towards the curtains.
“Dabi.” Is all he says and that’s when it hits you; Shouto is about to meet his long lost brother, Touya.
Well, shit got deep quite fucking quickly.
When Shouto pulls the curtain out of the way there are two people inside; an ash blonde, extremely handsome guy with a golden nose ring and… well… a guy who looks like a fucking fallen angel in a romantic fantasy movie.
His hair is white as the freshly fallen snow, eyelashes long and dark, his face looks almost feminine but his cheekbone is sharp and masculine, giving him an otherworldly look. You can’t lie, he’s probably the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen in your whole life. Not even the massive amount of piercings can ruin his mesmerizing look. He looks up from the random drawing he’s been working at and smirks at the deadpan hero in front of him. His beautiful face completely clashes with his mischievous attitude but that makes him even more interesting. He stands up from his desk gracefully and makes his way towards the Shouto, who just stands in one place with tears in his eyes, his face full of so many emotions now, you can’t even decipher any of them at all.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, little brother. Nice muscles, by the way.” Shouto breaks. “Hey, little one, what… what the fuck is wrong with you, oomph!” Dabi’s unable to breathe as Shouto runs into his arms, crying like he’s a little kid again. “Wooow, that’s… a hug. Okay, I’m not really a touchy person to be honest, I’m freaking out. Oi, you have a big ass scar on your face. Who did that? I’ll find ’em and kill ’em.” Shouto starts crying even more. “… uhm, with kindness, of course. Kill em’… with kindness. Yeah. Surely. Let me go, little brother. I can’t breathe.”
It’s quite cute how Touya can’t handle the situation and tries to talk up a storm to calm himself down.
“Touya, I think you are dead in their universe or something.” The ash blond guy smirks at him. “What a plotwist.”
“Hawks?!” Katsuki suddenly yells, giving the poor blond a fright.
“No, I’m Keigo.” He deadpans, utterly confused.
“Am I fucking dead?! Yo, little bro, am I? Did I go out with a blast, though?” Shouto only cries even more. “Oh no, please tell me I wasn’t born in a super powered world and got hit by a bus when I was twelve. That sucks balls.”
“Nah, you probably pulled some shit like killing half of your family out of pure spite after your mother gave you Pepsi instead of Coke.” Keigo mutters and the whole gang gawks at the guy. “Oh my god, did he?”
“Nii-chan…” Shouto sobs, still not coherent enough to make a proper sentence. He looks up at his brother and gives him a wobbly smile, stroking his cheek once then twice before he finally speaks up. “So this is how you would look like. Fuck, I think I’m having a mental breakdown.”
“Am I dead, little brother?!”
“Yes and no?” Izuku tries to help out but he looks just as choked up as his boyfriend. “Touya is gone but Dabi is alive. He’s in prison. For really bad things, but… it wasn’t your fault completely. Uhm. It’s a long story.”
“So Touya is dead but his penis is in prison?” Keigo forgoes his attempts to draw. This conversation is way too interesting for him now, that Touya’s penis is apparently involved.
“What?!” Izuku looks between the two males with nothing but confusion.
“I call his penis little Dabi.”
“You… why…” It’s Katsuki’s time to be completely bamboozled.
“Well, I pierced it so many times by now I decided to name it.”
Your gang falls silent. It’s this world’s Todoroki’s turn to freak out now.
“You pierced your… penis?!”
Touya turns into a really pretty shade of red.
“Well, we had to practice and none of you fuckers wanted a piercing so we practiced on each other! I did his nipples, he did my… Dabi.”
This conversation is wrong on so many levels and you are not even the person traumatized by that name.
“Can I… can I get a piercing from you, Touya?” Shouto gives his brother another wobbly smile and Izuku is about to pass out from the excitement.
“That’s so sweet, I’m gonna cry. Oh my god, I’m crying.”
Spoiler: He’s crying. I know. Shocker.
“Wanna get a ring like mine, baby brother? So we match?” Touya ruffles Shouto’s hair with a fond smile on his face. He looks exhilarated.
Nevermind. You are crying too. Even Katsuki has a tear stuck to his eyelashes but he tries his best to act nonchalant anyway.
“That would be nice, yeah.” Shouto laughs wetly as Touya points at the chair in the middle of the room. Shouto’s super edgy nose piercing is done before he can even breathe out an “I’m ready.” He’s quick and efficient, movements well practiced as he swabs at the fresh ring, cleaning it carefully with a proud smile on his face.
“Next time, I’ll give you a sick tattoo.” Touya daydreams, eyes looking into the distance, the fond smile still lingering on his face from a few seconds before. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you in your universe. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I might be a lost cause in that world, but tell my family that this Touya… would do anything to keep you guys safe.”
“Ok, I’m out.” This world’s Todoroki decides to leave the room, his face so neutral you really wonder if you should tell him to play poker.
“Come back, you little shit! Why can’t you be like this one, eyy! Cute and shit!”
“You would tease the shit out of me!”
“Well, duh!”
… and the mood is ruined. The whole gang laughs, loud and airy, Shouto’s face scrunches as the freshly made piercing starts to sting from the sudden motion.
Needless to say, the piercing suits him and you are extremely proud to be one of those people who know the real story behind it; a story so heartbreaking yet so full of love and affection; a story of a little brother finally finding solace by knowing that there is another Touya somewhere in the universe, content and happy, surrounded by his family who never ever gave up on him.
Shouto probably wishes his real brother could be here, too.
“Shit.” You cuddle into your boyfriend’s arms, way too emotional for your own good.
“Welcome in our world.” Katsuki mutters back.
~•💥•~
Katsuki has a confession to make. He’s been trying to come up with proposal ideas for a few months now, but none of them felt… right.
Going to a restaurant and propose is too basic. Going on a holiday and propose… well… same thing. Basic as fuck. Katsuki hates it.
Calling their whole friend group and family over is not possible, because Y/N’s family lives abroad and they haven’t even met him in person yet. Doing in front of one family and not the other would be mean, even Katsuki knows that.
The only thing he could think of that sounds almost okay is to go hiking and ask Y/N to marry him on a top of a mountain or a fucking lava but even that feels too normal for their abnormal relationship.
Okay, calling their relationship abnormal sounds extremely rude but honestly, they are not a normal couple. They’ve never been. Hell, they beat the shit out of each other in the training room almost every week. They yell at each other when then they cuddle by the TV like old people. They kick some ass on the battlefield then have aggressive sex after, praising the other about how hot they looked like when they kicked out the villain’s teeth. Sometimes they make work a challenge; whoever gets the last punch needs to uhm… make the other happy later. Don’t ask questions. Honestly, just don’t.
With that said, proposing to Y/N by winning a challenge is quite on-brand for them. They will need to redo the whole proposal in front of Kirishima otherwise he’s going to cry from being left out but Katsuki is more than happy to go down on his knees twice.
He must win today. He’s so done with carrying this fucking ring with himself just in case the time is right!
The ring he got for Y/N is actually made by his parents brand. His mom almost had a heart attack when Katsuki came over to their workshop with a bunch of silly ring designs. When Katsuki said he wants an orange diamond in the middle his father fell off his chair looking at Katsuki like he’s an idiot. Well, Katsuki knew what he wanted and he was quite aware that one small diamond cost 5 million yen (around £23000). That’s the one detail Katsuki was not willing to give up on even if his wallet will be empty for at least a few months afterwards.
So yeah, he was running around with that in his pocket for several weeks now. Hopefully, his suffering ends tonight.
“Get ready to get your ass kicked, Hero.” Bakugou smirks at Katsuki as he makes his way towards his loud ass band.
Oh no. Katsuki knows these people… well, most of them. He has no idea who the long, black haired goth guy is. Or girl. He’s not sure. Maybe something in between. Nah, Katsuki is sure he’s a guy. He looks familiar in a really weird way but he’s also quite sure he’s never met this bozo before.
“Oh my god, I thought you were joking when you said you’re bringing yourself twice.” Kaminari smirks, and he and his other self sighs.
“Annoying as always.” They mumble at the same time, the action followed by a smirk and a first bump. Kyouka laughs.
“I’ve always been wondering if other timelines exist and if they resemble each other in any way. I really want to say I got an answer but seeing how different your two selves look like I have more questions than answers. I guess I will need to live in the darkness for another day.”
NO FUCKING WAY.
No motherfucking way.
“Tokoyami?!” Izuku finally asks the million dollar question, notebook and pen already in his hands as he sneaks closer to the goth, lanky guy holding a guitar.
“I can’t take this anymore. First my long lost brother and now this?” Shouto sits down on the nearest chair, gobsmacked. “How is this even possible?”
“It makes a lot of sense actually.” Izuku goes back a few pages and reads a few notes before he speaks up again. “This world doesn’t have quirks or superpowers. Tokoyami’s appearance is connected to his power hence why he’s… different here. The real question is… how come you still have your half and half appearance? I’m quite sure your condition is extremely rare. Oh, I wish to be able to look into your genetics right now.” Izuku sighs and it sounds weirdly sexual so Katsuki decides to clear his throat before it’s too late.
“Wait a second, what’s wrong with me in your world?” Tokoyami puts his guitar down and comes closer to your little gang.
“Nothing is wrong, just…” Izuku blushes like an idiot, clearly regretting his words already.
“You are a fucking bird, Tokoyami.” Katsuki tries to help out and the joint yelp from the whole band makes him giggle like an idiot. Y/N gives him a side eye for being a cunt but he can’t be bothered. This is way too funny.
“Excuse me?” Tokoyami’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull and with that expression, he does look like his bird-self, to be honest.
“You have a head of a raven. In our world. And a human body. As weird as it sounds, it’s quite common.” Shouto adds helpfully and Katsuki is sure these bozos have never payed this much attention in their whole fucking lives.
“Pardon for the question but how do I have a love life with that face?”
“The same way you do in this world. You don’t.” Bakugou smirks and Katsuki is contemplating between giving the guy another fist bump or slapping his head for being a menace.
Tokoyami looks like he’s about to cry so Katsuki decides to go with the latter.
“So Bakubro said we are heroes in this world, so… I’m not single, right? Heroes must get a lot of chicks. That’s just how it is. In the movies.” Kaminari speaks up with hopeful eyes. Izuku looks extremely proud as he answers that question.
“While it’s true that heroes are surrounded by beautiful women and men, you’ve never really had your eyes on anyone else but your wife.”
“I have a wife?!” Kaminari cries crocodile tears as he embraces Izuku in a tight hug. “Oh my, you are so muscly. Wow. Like… no homo but I would happily go gay for you.”
Izuku blushes like a 30 year old virgin.
“Ahh, yeah, we almost had our first kiss on your and Kyouka’s wedding!” Y/N speaks up and by the look on Kyouka’s face… things are different in this world. Damn. Bummer.
“Me and Kyo? Married?!”
“Oh my god, Pikachu.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, not even surprised by this revelation. “Don’t act like you haven’t been making out in the dressing room for several months now.”
“Making out?” Midoriya joins the eye-rolling contest. “Kyouka comes to class in Denki’s shirts almost every day. They’ve been fucking for at least two years.”
“I thought she just likes his shirts?” This world’s Todoroki speaks up, flabbergasted.
“Oh, honey…” Midoriya taps his shoulders twice, not even bothering to answer him.
“Okay fuckers, now shut the fuck up and let’s hit those fucking drums! I’m so fucking ready!” Katsuki can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. He’s a man on a mission.
“Let’s do this, stupid, muscly twin. Let’s see who’s the best.” Bakugou smirks and the game is on.
~•💥•~
This is not a challenge between two friends. No. This fucking war. Both Katsuki’s take their turn to discuss their chosen song with the rest of the band privately. Everyone needs to wait in the hallway while the meeting is on. Then Bakugou comes out and Katsuki goes in. You swear there are flames under his feet as he barges through the door with determination.
“I know that look, Kacchan. You are fucked.” This world’s Deku decides to annihilate the awkward silence but making it even more awkward. Bakugou jumps in one place as a sudden realizations dawns on him.
“He will play THAT song. The bane of my existence. The one fucking song I just can’t get right. But that means he also can’t get it quite right, so… fuck, shouldn’t have played it safe.”
“Well, it’s important for him to win. And we are heroes. We never play safe. It makes sense. He wants a proper, KO win so he feels like he deserves the prize.” Shouto chimes in with a surprisingly fair answer.
“And if he doesn’t win, he’ll keep coming back until he does. Ahh, Kacchan is so amazing.” Izuku gets all red and the smile on his face is downright suggestive, it actually makes you wonder if there is more of a resemblance between him and his other self that you’ve thought.
“I will play the piano for you when we go to see Fuyumi next time.” Shouto mutters, his eyes glowing with determination.
“Ahh, that piano is really nice, isn’t it?” This world’s Deku chimes in. “My back still hurts when I think about it, though.”
Confusion. Awkward silence. Then it hits.
“You got dicked on the top of that piano.” Bakugou gawks at the boy, who tries to act all shy about it but he can’t really hide the shit eating grin on his face.
“I definitely can’t do that, there is a massive weight difference between this world’s us and uhm… us. There is also a massive difference between our family life, so doing something like that in my sister’s house would be highly inappropriate.” Shouto chimes in as well, speaking nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather.
“Shouto, I’m quite sure doing that in anyone’s house IS highly inappropriate anyway.” You try to add something to the conversation, because it’s getting out of hand. Izuku looks like he’s about the burst from embarrassment or something else, you are not sure. Thankfully the door opens and the whole band comes out, all looking pale and shaky.
“Bro. This guy… is an animal.” Kaminari stutters, making a beeline towards the closest drink machine.
“Honestly, ugly twin, give these guys a fucking challenge once in a while. They can play quite well.”
“I’m not ugly! I’m just small! Fuck you, muscle brain!” Bakugou yells with his face red. “And I do challenge them! They knew the song you are about to play, didn’t they?!”
“Yeah, and they also told me how you made them learn it then you never asked them to play it once.” Katsuki smirks and if this would be a normal world he would get an explosion to his face. But this Bakugou doesn’t have a quirk so he just pokes his other self on his side where it hurts the most. “Ouch, I think a mosquito just stung me.”
You can’t help but sigh. One Bakugou Katsuki is certainly enough for one world.
~•💥•~
Bakugou plays Basket Case by Green Day. And he looks extremely hot doing it.
You can’t believe you didn’t know they can play the drums like that. You can barely stop salivating over those muscly arms hitting the drums and this guy has half of the muscle mass your actual boyfriend does. You’ll literally pass out when it’s Katsuki’s turn to play. You also have a hard time believing he can top whatever Bakugou is doing on those drums. You are not a musician but you do have a good ear and Bakugou’s play is flawless, aggressive but precise, maybe a few mistakes here and there where he gets a bit too much into it but otherwise, he clearly has talent. Your other self also looks lovestruck as she stares at her boyfriend lovingly, eyes full of wonder and affection and damn, honestly, they are so fucking cheesy they make you burp.
Katsuki doesn’t even bother being his usual jealous self; there is a massive smirk on his face as the two swap places, his steps confident and when he looks back at you he mouths “keep your eyes on me” and needless to say that goes straight into your… you know what. He’s a hot guy, okay?!
Things only get worse from that point. First of all; he takes his shirt off just as he sits down then throws it right into your face with a massive smirk. The shirt smells just like him and you can’t help but daydream about being home, surrounded by this scent all over. You take the shirt and take a good sniff; Katsuki’s eyes darken, his gaze so lustful it makes you blush like this is the first time you’ve ever seen him look like that.
Somehow… it feels different. Possessive in a good way. Hah. You always hated when someone thought about their partner as “theirs” but now you start to understand that it’s not all about being someone’s possession, it’s more about you being a part of them, one not whole without the other.
Katsuki’s chosen song is Through the fire and flames by an old band called DragonForce.
Tokoyami plays the beginning flawlessly; It’s a fucking hard song to play on every instrument, mostly on guitar and the drums but while Tokoyami looks much more focused than he did when he played the easy chords in the last song, he doesn’t look that bothered. Kaminari on the other hand looks like he’s about to shit himself and it makes you giggle; this song is an absolute pain in the ass on the guitar and you are actually quite surprised that they somehow manage to play the song because even professional guitarists struggle to learn this one. Needless to say there are a few mistakes on their part, but otherwise, it’s quite impressive. You keep your eyes on Tokoyami and Kaminari for the first few seconds of the song as there is no drums at the beginning but when they get to the part with the drums you almost choke on your saliva.
Katsuki looks like a fucking rockstar. The way his muscles bulge when he hits the toms makes you salivate, but you can barely concentrate on the beauty in front of you as the way he plays is even more impressive. It’s powerful, precise, no mistakes whatsoever. The song already has complicated drums but you swear he made it even more difficult to play, even the easy parts sound more complicated and so much better than the original and when you finally tear your eyes off your gorgeous boyfriend you take a look at Bakugou, who’s sitting next to you, gawking at Katsuki with an open mouth, too impressed to be devastated about him loosing - because let’s be honest, he really fucking did loose.
The next time you look at Katsuki, he’s glowing. He looks so happy behind that drum set, so content and so-so handsome it makes your heart clench. You can’t believe this guy is yours. You can’t believe you’ll wake up every day next to this gorgeous fucking man, hopefully, for the rest of your life.
As Katsuki finishes the solo with an absolute sick drum solo, he stands up before the song wraps up and your body moves on its own; you jump into your boyfriend’s arms and he catches your legs and pulls you even closer as he kisses you deeply, right in front of everyone.
“Marry me, Bakugou Katsuki.” You mumble, incapable of pulling away from his puffy, soft lips. Katsuki takes something out of his pocket and let’s you down, but he doesn’t go too far away; He leaves a tiny kiss on your knuckles, tears pricking his beautiful red eyes as he goes down on one knee in front of you.
“Be my fucking wife, Menace. Let’s grow fucking old together. You are the best fucking thing that’ve ever happened to be and the most annoying one as well, but I fucking love you nonetheless.” Katsuki bursts out in tears by the end of his sentence and you are not too far behind; when you are about to answer a loud sob breaks out of your throat.
“Okay.” You mumble, letting him put the ring on your finger. You almost faint when you look at it because while you don’t have any idea about ring prices you already know this one cost a fortune. It’s so fucking beautiful and so perfectly him. Loud and fancy. Just like your fiancé. “I’ll be the best and the most annoying wife in the whole wide world. I promise.”
Katsuki seals the deal with another deep kiss then the moment is ruined when Izuku and Deku starts crying loudly. It’s so loud it actually hurts your eardrums.
“Save your fucking tears for the time I need to recreate all of this for Eijirou’s sake because I ain’t telling him that I proposed to her while he wasn’t here!”
“You want me to give this ring back to you?! But I don’t wanna! It’s so pretty!” You moan, but Katsuki only rolls his eyes.
“You will live, wifey.” Okay. You really fucking like the sound of that. “I’ll keep your mind away from it.” Katsuki pulls you closer by your waist and leaves a scorching hot kiss on your mouth. You melt like a fucking snowman in a microwave.
“Hmm. Deal.”
~•💥•~
“Oi, look! It’s Kirishima!” This world’s Bakugou points to the window of a coffee shop near campus. “He’s making out with the barista!”
“Fucking finally!” Deku rolls his eyes, annoyed. “He’s been pining for months!”
You can’t help but smile when you sneakily look into the coffee shop because that’s the same girl Kirishima’s been daydreaming about in your world. It makes you so happy to see him like this; Eijirou has a special place in your heart and you really hoped he’ll find his own happy end eventually.
“Do you think he knows he’s shagging that famous rock star’s niece?” Todoroki asks the million dollar question. Katsuki and you look up at the guy with question marks in your eyes. “That girl… is the niece of that famous singer-guitarist. The band name is… Crimson Riot? It’s Kirishima’s favorite band I think.”
“Oh my god.” Katsuki looks at you with a shit eating smirk. “Oh my god, I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes that. This is gonna be amazing.”
Yeah it will be… but that’s a story for another day - you think to yourself as you walk around the campus once more, hand in hand with your brand new fiancé. You can’t wait to get home and snuggle him until he blast you out of the window.
“Will you come over again, Y/N?” Deku takes your other hand and starts walking with you like he’s a little kid. You look at Katsuki who only gives you a cheeky smile but that’s all the answer you needed.
“Yeah. We will.”
The End.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Potato ramble:
- I’m quite sure no sane human being can play the guitar part of the song Katsuki decided to play with that band. I’m just saying, because I usually try to be realistic and that wasn’t. Also, big thank you for my ex-drummer boyfriend for choosing that song for me because I was in stitches for days 😂 I can kinda play a lot of instruments but drums ain’t one of them. I once sat down and tried to play it and he cried. 😂😂😂😂
- The Dabi part inspired me so much that I actually started to write a DabiHawks fanfiction in this AU. It will be a completely separate thing from this and some details will be different, plus I’ll probably upload it on AO3, but just to let you know, that’s something I’m working on when I have the time! I’ll post about it on my Tumblr once it’s done!
- This is the official end of Katsuki’s side of this story. I’m sad but I’m also really happy for him! Thank you very much for everyone for sticking with me for a whole year! I actually uploaded the first chapter of this almost exactly a year ago. How freaky is that?!
- As you guys know, there is a spin-off for this series called Kirishima Eijirou’s daily shenanigans and the first chapter is already up so click here to read my first Kirishima x reader fanfic! 🪨
TL - thank you guys for being here 😭😭 @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x self insert#shenanigansbypurplepotato#bakugo x you#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#soft bakugou#pro hero dynamight x reader
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"Don't worry, I'm here for you."
Pairing: Garfield Logan x GN!Reader
Type: Fluff
Warnings: swearing, mild angst, self-harm
Summary: Garfield notices as you struggle completing homework due to lack of motivation. He decides to help you with said homework and catch up a little. He wants to understand what's troubling you.
______________________________________________________________
It's 11 PM, everyone in the Titans Tower is already sleeping, except you. You're already behind in assignments and you're wondering if you can even complete anything before tomorrow. As your pen dances around your math homework and sweat drips on your forehead, you hear footsteps coming towards your room. Someone knocks on the door: It's Gar.
"Hey Y/N, you ok?" he asks as he opens the door. "I just heard pounding from my room and was wondering if something happened."
"Yeah, it's just, you know, homework and shit." you reply, admitting defeat against the math sheet standing in front of you. "Algebra, is it? I can help, don't worry."
As the green-haired boy sits next to you, he notices the giant bags beneath your eyes and the red marks on your arms. He looks up to you, concern welling up in his beautiful eyes. He knows it's not the right time to talk about it, nor do you have the patience to at the moment. He smiles faintly and begins reading through your paper.
______________________________________________________________
It's been almost an hour since he started helping you and you have yet to understand a single thing. He had to wake you up by running his hand through your hair in a very calm and understanding manner on multiple occasions before you woke up and apologized softly. He doesn't blame you for falling asleep during his explanations, he knows how much effort you've been putting in today, especially during training. Dick thinks you've been falling off a little bit lately, so he practically doubled your training sessions. Gar tried to talk him out of it, telling him it was insane and that you had school, but he wouldn't listen to reason. This drastic change led you to where you are now, unmotivated and constantly falling asleep.
"So, this is basically how you do number 9. Do you get it?" he asks after checking the time. You don't respond and your eyes start welling up from fatigue.
"It's almost midnight. You should take a break." he suggests as he stands up.
"A break?" you ask, your voice breaking. "I can't take a break, Gar. I have two late assignements, three more pages of algebra to complete for tomorrow and an exam next week! And I have yet to understand anything! I've been falling asleep during class because Dick doubled my fucking training! I don't understand anything, do you get it Gar?! I can't focus, I can't do anything these days!" You hide your face with your hands, ashamed as to what just happened.
Your boyfriend sits down again and takes your hand, caressing your scarred arm. He looks down at it, tears dwelling up. He looks at you again and hugs you, telling you it will be okay.
"Look, Y/N, I can do your homework for tomorrow. I'll talk Dick out of it, I'll even force him to stop giving you more training if I have to. I'll get Rachel and Kory on my side. I'll help you understand algebra, I'm pretty good at it. We'll spend time together every day. On the other hand, I would like you to promise two things for me." he tells you, his voice breaking slightly and wiping his eyes. You nod as he wipes the tears away from your eyes.
"First off, I need you to sleep properly. I can't have those bags ruin your beautiful eyes." he says, earning a giggle from you. "Secondly, I need you to stop doing... this... to yourself." he explains while looking at your arm again and holding your hand tight. "Promise me?" You nod in silence. He kisses your forehead and stands up to leave. You stop him by calling out his name.
"Can you lay next to me until I fall asleep? I just... need company. Please." you ask. He agrees and you feel your heart skip a beat. This is the first time you'll be sleeping together since the start of your relationship.
You close the light on your desk and jump onto your bed, exhausted. Garfield sits next to you. You decide to lay your head on his leg while he runs through your hair and scratches your back. This is the most relaxed you've felt this week, maybe even this month.
"I love you." he says.
You reply softly:
“Me too."
#gar#gar x reader#gar x male reader#gar x female reader#gar x gn reader#gar logan#gar logan x reader#gar logan x male reader#gar logan x female reader#gar logan x gn reader#garfield logan#garfield logan x reader#garfield logan x male reader#garfield logan x female reader#garfield logan x gn reader#beast boy#beast boy x reader#beast boy x male reader#beast boy x female reader#beast boy x gn reader#ryan potter#ryan potter x reader#ryan potter x male reader#ryan potter x female reader#ryan potter x gn reader#dc universe#dc#dc comics#titans#titans season 1
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An Open Letter to the Danger Days Tumblr Community:
Now that you’ve read that overdramatic title and are wondering who fucked up, I have something to say about the Danger Days Tumblr community: I Love You.
Danger Days was the first fandom I ever posted for on any site. All the way back in middle school (ho-ly shit). And let me tell you what I found out even way back when: this is not an easy fandom to be in.
For one, most people don’t even know it exists. For two, even less know it in the way it’s been cultivated on Tumblr. Almost every single person has such a niche interpretation of every little detail, that it’s impossible to draw a line through any two versions of the story. Which is a fact I personally love, but I also think it scares a lot of people away. You have to work to be in this fandom. Both as a passive and active fan. It requires patience and tolerance for disappointment.
But that’s exactly why I want to encourage everyone who creates and everyone who listens to Keep Doing That. Like I cannot stress this enough, that is what keeps this fandom and IP alive. Danger Days as a universe would be absolutely nothing without fan work (re: the California Comics), especially a decade later. Without fans who care about this story way more than it has warranted us to care, it would be six feet under. And sometimes I really think that’s what it deserves (and maybe the writers think that as well), but for the life of me I just can’t let that happen. I’ve tried to let this fucking thing go, believe me.
And funny enough, that exact feeling is evidenced by the community on this site too. Which has changed faces almost completely from what it was three years ago for better and less better in some cases. And it’s something I still struggle with adjusting to, but I look at the tag daily. I look everyone’s posts and blogs and art and effort. If you have posted even once in the dd tag my eyes have 100% seen it. So even if I still feel a little out of place, like a ghost of fandom’s past, at least I know everybody. And I know people feel the same way: No rest for the wicked.
When I reanimated from my fandom coma I was fully expecting to find that the community had gone extinct. Partially because all the blogs I used to frequent had straight up died in the three years I was gone. But I pulled up to the gates of the Danger Days tag like Rick Grimes outside of Alexandria, fully expecting to be devastated, only to find New People tilling the fucking field. And it didn’t matter that I now had no idea who any of you people were, it was The Most welcoming thing ever.
I’ll be the first to tell you this fandom bares almost no resemblance to the one I left, and I’m not going to lie and say it’s better now, but the foundation didn’t get blown away in the storm. That’s what I find uniquely profound. That everyone here still wants to try. And that makes me really want to try. And I’m sure everyone would agree that there is often little reward for the effort; but that’s precisely my point in saying all this shit. That even despite the not fun aspects, we all still clock in; and there’s a new post, headcanon, drawing, or fic every freaking day. It’s commendable, really.
If you’re lurking, or post sometimes but feel afraid to actually take a leap here because (the fandom is comparatively tiny to the greater MCR fandom) you’ll be way more out there, and the already established figureheads of the fandom will definitely see your stuff: post post post. This is my formal endorsement to Just Post That Shit. And Interact With That Shit. I spent a year gathering the courage to publish the tiniest thing while behind the scenes I literally wrote about 60+ works. You have to respect your own creativity and trust that other people will give it the time of day.
So do not feel crazy or discouraged about your ideas here! Like we literally need them to function, I would not be here if it wasn’t for all the people three years ago who just posted all their thoughts about Danger Days. About everything. Obscure or not. It’s truly a gift that this fandom has attracted people who are willing to work their brains because the original creators let it fall flat. I cannot tell you how much being in this fandom has actually helped me out in my writing and analysis skills.
So yeah. I fucking love this fandom, I love being in it and I love seeing that people are still stoking the flames. I wanted to say all this crap because I knew I’d be able to articulate it for the people who can relate but don’t want to be the first to say it. Which is okay, understandable. As I said earlier this fandom is like yelling your thoughts out into a very echoey room that only has a few people in it. So I’ll shout first and maybe it’ll make other people more comfortable to shout back.
#i tried to make this as easy to read as possible#this is also an open discussion btw. welcome to the fuckin conference room#we’re all on the council#danger days#mcr#ttlotfk#ttlofk#kobra kid#killjoys#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#party poison#jet star#fun ghoul#danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#cas types#long post
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Couple of days late because I keep falling asleep while writing, but here is my little contribution for day 9 of @gallavichthings a.u.gust fiesta.
Got me stuck on your face and your body
nine - college
There’s an alarm clock blaring, it’s been blaring for what feels like hours, and it’s not his. He doesn’t even have an alarm clock. This day and age who even owns a real fucking clock anymore? Doesn’t everyone just use their phone?
The noise stops, and Mickey cracks an eye open. Through his minimal aperture he can see a a light green colored towel, a pair of legs dusted with light ginger hair. Ian.
“Sorry about the alarm, I woke up early and jumped in the shower, forgot it was even set.”
He sounds so awake already, alive with energy at whatever ghastly hour of the morning someone like Ian chooses to rise in the morning. It’s as much as Mickey can do to roll over onto his back, and even that feels like too much of an effort. He slings one arm over his face to block out the obnoxious sunlight streaming through Ian’s cheap dorm-room curtains, and sucks in a deep yawn of a breath.
“It’s all good man,” He says, on the tail end of the yawn, “didn’t mean to fall asleep. Shoulda woken me.”
“I didn’t mind you staying.” The weight on the bed shifts like Ian has just sat down, and when Mickey drags his arm from his eyes to look he’s right there, chest bare, soft hairs on his pecs glistening with large droplets of water because the guy apparently doesn’t know how towels work and clambers every day from the shower dripping like an umbrella after a rainstorm.
He watches a single rivulet wind its way down towards a nipple, take a detour around a particularly thick hair and drop into the valley that marks the centre of Ian’s well defined chest.
He drags his gaze away and meets Ian’s eyes, warm and open, and it sinks in to Mickey what Ian had said. That he didn’t mind Mickey staying over. It’s crazy to Mickey how easily shit like that just rolls off Ian’s tongue, like he just says exactly what he’s thinking or feeling, in the moment when he’s thinking or feeling it. Mickey wonders what that must be like. To be just completely at ease all the damn time. It couldn’t be him.
“Well, didn’t mean to, so.”
Case in point. The words that roll off Mickey’s tongue are always awkward and stilted, and only ever half of what he really wants to be saying, and almost always succeeds in making whomever he is talking to smaller and less happy and less bright than they were before he spoke.
Something in Ian shuts down, his openness, that light inside him that Mickey is so obsessed with, can’t get enough of, dims, just a little, and just like every time he opens his mouth, Mickey regrets his words.
“What you got your alarm set for anyway?” He asks, dropping his hand onto Ian’s bent knee where he’s sat sideways on the bed. “You don’t got class today.”
One thing that’s great about Ian is that Mickey kind of thinks he gets it. Mickey’s words can hurt him but if he can get a hand on him, quickly, he recovers. Like he understands what it means when Mickey uses his touch to try and soothe the lashes his tongue doles out.
Like now, green eyes glance down at where Mickey’s hand is resting on a towel clad knee, and a little smile forms on his lips
“You know my schedule Mickey?”
Smug bastard. And he does, is the problem. They’ve been fucking basically since class began in September, since Mickey had wandered into a frat house kitchen at a party Mandy had dragged him to and shared a shot with the giant red-head hiding from the party by ‘manning the bar’. He was the least likely frat dude you could imagine, sweet and kind of shy, not interested in keg stands or embarrassing pledges. They’d ended up back in Ian’s room that night and Mickey’s been freefalling ever since. He’s into him so deep it’s embarrassing.
Yeah, he knows his fucking schedule. Knows when his classes are and his preferred times to go to the gym, knows he treats himself to lunch outside the cafeteria once a week, on Wednesdays, on a rotating schedule of alternative campus eateries. Knows he calls his big sister on Fridays, facetimes his big brother most mornings on his way to class. Knows what day and time he goes to his book club that’s not a book club, but that he won’t actually tell Mickey what it is. He knows, and he feels like a fucking pussy for knowing, and he knows that if he replies right now he’ll say something even more hurtful than he already has because his stupid fucking brain thinks it will make it less embarrassing to be obsessed with Ian if there’s no way Ian could ever possibly know.
“Got a frat thing early, philanthropy requirement, that’s why the alarm.”
There’s a blush spreading across Ian’s cheeks, the same that always does whenever he talks about fraternity stuff, he’s the only frat guy Mickey ever met who doesn’t like to let on he’s in a frat. Mickey’d asked him once, why he’d joined if he found it so embarrassing to be a Greek. He’d said that when he’d come to college he’d been lonely, had missed the noise and the company of being at home with all his siblings, the frat had seemed like a way to have that again, on campus.
“Gotta go be a good boy, huh?” Ian quirks a suggestive eyebrow at that and the shadow of a shiver rushes up Mickey’s spine. It is way too easy to get him going where Ian’s concerned. “Guess I’ll let you get to it then, I’m gonna head out.”
He rolls himself to the other side of the bed and pushes himself up to standing, starting to find where his clothes had ended up. He finds them in a neat pile on the chair by the window, shirt and pants and boxers folded, fucking boy scout.
“You don’t have to go.” Ian tells him while he’s pulling up his pants, rooting in his underwear drawer for some clean boxers and dropping his towel to pull them on.
“I got a paper due.”
“Well, are you busy later? I’m supposed to go to this open mic thing at Java John’s…”
Mickey winces at the thought of an ‘open mic thing’ and Ian trails off, finishes buttoning his shirt, smart clothes for philanthropy hours. Mickey tries not to let his gaze linger too long, but the fact is, Ian looks good all dressed up.
“But I could skip it? If you wanted to…” He trails off again, shrugging at Mickey like he doesn’t really know what he’s suggesting.
He’s suggesting spending time together, really, that’s what he’s always suggesting. All the time he’s inviting Mickey along to some event or telling him about some party, just trying to spend time with him, and every time he does Mickey blows him off, turns it into some innuendo, or manufactures the scenario so that instead of hanging out like normal people, like Ian so clearly wants to do, they end up just fucking.
It’s not like Mickey doesn’t want to hang out with Ian, properly. Without fucking. He does. He would. But the thing is, they’re good at fucking. They’ve got great chemistry and he knows he can make Ian feel good, that he can hold his interest for that, that he won’t disappoint the guy.
But without that, if they’re just spending time together and talking and not distracted by the overwhelming pleasure of an impending orgasm, Ian might figure out that in the long run, Mickey’s not smart or interesting or worth spending time with at all. And he can’t have that.
He finishes shoving his feet inside his boots and looks up, finding Ian still looking over at him, hopefully. And he wants to say yes. He wants to say sure, and sounds fun. Wants to meet Ian at the stupid fucking Java John’s and listen to some emo loser singing acoustic covers of eighties pop hits and drink an overpriced cup of coffee and just, sit next to the guy, smile at him, make him laugh. Feel the warmth of his body radiate against Mickey’s own. He wants it so badly he can hardly breathe from the wanting.
And what if he did it? What if he said yes? What if, actually, Ian didn’t find him boring or stupid or only good for fucking? What if, actually, they had a great fucking time and great sex? Looking into Ian’s imploring eyes, for the first time he believes it might be possible.
He takes a deep breath, takes a massive fucking leap, and says.
“They got beer at the Java John’s?”
The smile on Ian’s face makes his heart almost beat out of his chest, and he hopes, hopes he’s made the right choice.
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I Am In Hell-
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie is dealing with some serious PTSD and survivors guilt after everything that happened over spring break. He’ll do anything to make it all stop.
Warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, su!cidal ideation, angry eddie, nightmares, flashbacks. Basically v sad v angsty. Intense.
“Shit shit shit!” Eddie screams in his sleep. It wakes you up and you turn around in the bed to face him. He’s sweating so bad that he’s entirely soaked. This is day ten since he almost died in the upside down. Hopper managed to clear his name, but many people still believe he is the one who committed the murders. The nightmares come every night. It would be a miracle if Eddie was able to get just 4 straight hours of sleep. Everything that happened that week keeps replaying in his mind. Terrorizing him.
His screams get louder and he begins to cry in his sleep. Your heart breaks for him as you gently try to wake him up. “Eddie, Eds, hey,” you say, carefully touching his arm and lightly shaking him. He shoots up, a look of pure terror on his face. Once he realizes that it was a dream, he calms down slightly, but tears continue to run down his face. “I cant do this, I can’t keep living like this. What the fuck, I’m losing it,” Eddie says, bringing his knees to his chest and holding his head in his hands.
“No. Baby after what has happened to you in the last few weeks its no wonder you are going through this. I-I know you’re tired baby… I’m so sorry, I wish there was something i could do. But i love you, and I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him. You pull him closer and pat your lap, signalling for him to lay his head there. He does so, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable again. Only a moment of darkness before the images come back. Chrissy’s death. Like he’s living it all over again. The fear, the terror, the guilt, He makes a wincing sound and squeezes his eyes shut tighter. You run your fingers through his hair and start to hum the tune of a lullaby that your dad used to sing to you as a kid.
Eddie grips the leg of your sweatpants and makes a fist so hard that he begins shaking. On top of everything, he feels guilty that he is even going through this. He hates for you to see him like this. He tried pushing you away, but you refused to leave him. He’s grateful for that, truly. You’re the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. It takes a while, but after about ten minutes of you humming and playing with his hair, he finally falls asleep.
_______________________________________________
The next day
Eddie turns the music up as loud as it can go, trying desperately to drown out his thoughts. The flashbacks, the voice in the back of his head that is driving him insane, the anxiety, the guilt, all of it. He snorts a line of snow off of his textbook, throwing his head back and groaning. He usually doesn’t touch this shit, but right now he would do anything to make it all stop. He has been smoking so much weed that his tolerance has built up to the point where he doesn’t even get that high anymore, and he’s desperate.
He feels a sudden intense pain everywhere he was bitten by the demobats, remembering it like it was happening again. “Son of a bitch!” he screams as the pain subsides. He has all of the shades in the trailer drawn, and the music is so loud he can barely hear himself think.
You get out of your car and walk up to Eddie’s trailer, hearing the music from the second you got out. “What the hell?” You walk in just in time to see Eddie snorting another line. Rushing over to the stereo you turn the music down. “Eddie? What are you doing? W-Why are you…” you motion to him and the textbook in front of him. “What?! Why am I what?! I think I have earned the goddamn right to take the edge off okay?” he says sharply. He didn’t intend for that to sound as rude as it did.
“Every single day I relive it. Every single night-,” he stops, grabbing his beer off of the table and finishing it. You now notice the many empty beer bottles around the room. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore, okay? The voices in my head are driving me INSANE. The guilt, the fear, the pain. Why couldn’t you and Dustin just let me die there?!” he yells, throwing the bottle at one of the walls.
“Eddie, I love you, please stop. I know you're going through a lot right now-” he cuts you off, “NOPE, No, you don't know anything. I-I’m cursed. This- I can’t live like this. Paranoid, on edge, in fucking agony every goddamn day,” he says, starting to cry. He sits on the couch, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.
“I AM IN HELL, OKAY? Just- just go.”
“No. I’m not leaving you, Eddie. You need somebody right now, so stop trying to push me away,” you tell him, stepping closer. You reach out to place a hand on his shoulder, but from the mix of drugs, alcohol, and sleep deprivation, for a moment he sees Chrissy when he looks at you. He jumps away from you to the other end of the ouch. “Get out, just-” he closes his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!” he screams. His tone and the sound of dark anger in his voice hits a nerve with you, and you look down, tears falling down your cheeks as you nod, leaving the trailer and slamming the door behind you.
“FUCK,” he screams angrily. He’s not mad at you, and he didn't mean to snap at you. He is angry with himself. He moves to turn the music up again and takes a seat on the couch, cracking open another beer.
#eddie munson#eddie x reader#stranger things imagines#stranger things drabbles#Eddie Munson drabbles#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader
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what i'm listening to 9/5/2023 (song notes under cut)
spot. link//yt link
Laura Les - Haunted: haunted. by laura les.
Laura Les/osno1 - ditch a body in the laundry (feat. Dylan Brady): i'll make no secret of it; i've been a sad little dog this past month. and this song is like PERFECT sad little dog soundtrack material (the whole ep is, and lots of laura's work if we're honest... but more on that later). there's this absolutely ice-cold novocaine hatred instilled in it, the kind of agony that stings the skin because the very action of having to exist as a physical animal hurts so bitterly. i'm really terribly obsessed with it and have also cried a lot to it and i really like the addition of dylan because while his part is short it's very good. links to this post also
House Of Pain - On Point: i lovvvve house of pain omg ^-^ their second album is kind of a cult classic and while idk if i'd say i like it better than the first, it's still real good. and this is a banger single. that horn riff? awesome. we did this one for videos night (which i am still planning more of!!) and it was fun. there is a little surprise slur moment in the last verse which is. y'know. but as far as the sound goes i think this is basically unparalleled, i could listen to songs that sounnd just like this forever and ever
Radiohead - How To Disappear Completely: did i mention that i was sad. bc i was. this was another song i turned to when lying in bed late at night and just really going through it. the idea of being able to disappear off to somewhere, anywhere that wasn't where i was...... well you get it. tears a gal up. it's almost like this is a good song on a good album or something
Madness - One Step Beyond: yeah okay a couple songs from the skaugust WILT stuck around. i just adore that fucking deep growly riff that comes in after the spoken intro, i can never ever get enough of it. and it's so danceable but still maintains that narstyness. good good shit i love ska so terribly much and especially the rockingest rocksteady beat..... of MADNESS
Nirvana - Blew: this should probably be higher tbh but it's close competition. despite remaining relatively unknown when held up next to something like about a girl, blew is SUCH a highlight from bleach (and i do really like bleach). the way kurt's voice lays over the main riff makes it so chunky and layered but it also feels dissonant, like it was accidental or improvised. every day i become slightly more of a nirvana fangirl.... there's worse things to be
Ada Rook - UNDERNEATH IT ALL: GOD i fucking love this album. it can be really dumb sometimes but it's so just. grrrrrrrrrh. ada rook is one of those musicians who just Gets It, i've often said that her music is the type of music i wish i could make. and the addition of ash nerve on this one creates that nice balance between abrasive screaming cyber rage and prettier clean sung choruses and harmonies. kind of the same effect the two achieve on angel electronics projects but i prefer the overall sound of this a lot
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - See Me: does anybody have the video of that weird as fuck animation with this song over it....... i watched that and was like idk what to do with this but the song jams i wonder who this is. and i found it in the notes and was like ahhhh that makes sense. the glizzard. and yeah idk the descending melody that kind of quavers around the lead line is just really otherworldly and takes me in right away each time i hear it. it's cool
The Specials - A Message To You Rudy: i feel i've said pretty much everythingg i wanted to say about this song. it's just one of the catchiest damn things ever
House Of Pain - I'm A Swing It: hey they're back!!! this one doesn't stick in my head as much as on point but again the sound is just immaculate and there's always so many corny-but-actually-really-good lines. it also always interests me how much everlast referecnes rock musicians and the like. he knows the audience lol
laura les/osno1 - nothing just hanging out: less of a song really, but still so representative of that coldness that represents me. none of the cemetary stuff is gonna be available on spotify, those are my local bandcamp files, and i don't have an individual upload of this track on youtube nor the time to create one, so i just put in an upload of the full ep. just listen to the whole thing it's really good and not that long. but yeah sorry lol
Mark Morrison - Return Of The Mack: i think this appeared on a previous WILT but i mean. talk about the catchiest things ever!!!!
Crisis Sigil - Blood Semen Box-Elder: a favorite album cut from the new crisis sigil. this release my first proper exposure to the project and mannnn that shit is brutal. this one esp methinks. once again. rook music good
Nicki Minaj - Roman Holiday: was listening to this one because of worstsongever and being like whoever nominated this doesn't know shit. this slaps hard. i was never like especially a nicki fan but this just straight up goes. weird as fuck but that's kind of the appeal. if you want a REAL bad song, that will come later
The Front Bottoms - Au Revoir (Adios): no not this one!! well. maybe a bit. idk i like folk punk but never really cared about these guys that much? but i've met some people recently who do like them and was like yeah i could give this another spin. i do admittedly alwways think of the post that's like "this gif is silent but it still manages to sound like shit." it's not as deep of a song as it's probably supposed to be, but i still think there's something there. a lot of folk punk songs focus around character writing that acknowledge their flaws, including (and sometimes especially) the narrator and this is a good example without coming out and stating it. it piqued my inch rest
Roxy Radclyffe - Exemption's Dominion: i'll be real i don't exactly "get" what this song is about but it is freaky and cool. i was really interested to see the music video when it popped up in my subscriptions. the part of the song that does get stuck in my head is the little two-word pitchshifted phrases in one of the verses
Haggus - Uneducated Politician: someone recommended "mincecore" to me, and these guys in particular. weird as fuck sound but i think it's fun! maybe it's just the bad recording quality but the growls on this track in particular come out sounding reallll fucked up, which is what drew me to this selection in particular. still got a lot to learn about this whole scene but it's made it this far with me!
MC Boing - Car Song: tbh i don't tend to really like danny harle, i don't mind him but it's just not really my deal. this one got me, though, despite being dumb as all fuck. we are driving in a car car car car car car. mc boing indeed
Eminem - FACK: you did this to me, worstsongever (R.I.P.). it's annoying to me that i actually don't completely hate this thing.... it manages to be so stupid it loops back around to being funny for about a minute and then it just gets so old so quickly. but somehow still found itself stuck in my head :( many such cases
#i am on a fucking time budget rn i hope i didn't mess this up at all. it's rpobably fine#*char noises*#talking pop
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looking forward to the document. i looked up to 🍉 since the pastel asriel days and im negl the truth is fucked up 💀😭 i literally feel bad for the ppl that she has affected :( i feel bad for believing she was completely innocent too uh 😭…
idk if this is a bad idea, but if i may share smth as witness, i remember in one of her recent streams, abt a month ago i think, there was this older man who started chatting in the chat section and showing interest in her, as well as putting his discord tag in the chat for other ppl to add him and stuff, and i know damn well a handful of her fanbase is minors
and the creep offered mel discord nitro or smth (idk i don’t use disc too much but im assuming it’s nitro) and yk what she did? she accepted his offer and actually expected to get it from him. the entire thing felt off, bc mel, who is almost an adult, should instead be rushing to protect the minors in her fanbase instead of just fuckin around. 💀‼️ the fact that she chose nitro over protecting minors says smth in my personal opinion but idk. like you can get nitro somewhere else girlie be so fr, remove the guy from your stream and ignore what he has to say… protect the damn minors dude. 😰
THANKFULLY it supposedly ended up being a troll, but even still, the entire thing just felt off, risky, and immature. i get that her streams are like a hang out thing where she chills with her fans n stuff so in her eyes it was prob just shits n giggles while trying to get discord nitro from a supposed older creep, but yeaa it’s a no for me. like i was on her side at that time thinking she was innocent and that STILL felt wrong 😭 thing is, there were like 2 other ppl there who thought it was wrong too, making me feel like “yea i’m not tripping this is kinda weird, the majority of ppl watching are prob teens or even younger (?) and you’re just gonna allow a creep to be here for a bit bc you want nitro???”
SO YEA, idk if this is exaggerated or if i am overreacting BUT i felt that every single thing might count. like, it’s good that the supposed creep was supposedly just a troll, but, like, still, no…
but one last small thing before i leave this for u, i admire that you and other people are speaking up about this. it’s wonderful that you’re standing up for other ppl who are being harassed by mel’s fans too (from what i’ve seen i think) so yea i think it’s very strong and courageous of you and the others. i wish you the best of luck /gen bc um yea, i think we all know by now how her and her fanbase can be… 💀😓
i appreciate you telling your story, anon <3 that's super creepy and i'm sorry that you had to witness that
your praise means the world to me :) i've heard that she's been shittalking me in her streams which is extremely funny to me. they've been off to me for a while now but since i was a fan for so long (like you), i didn't say anything because i didn't want anything bad to happen like me getting doxxed or something. her raging 100k+ fanbase of 12 year olds is highly amusing to me personally, but that doesn't mean that what they say can't hurt (pekoepeach.)
also, the fact that these 12 year olds STILL haven't come into my askbox tells me so much. they know i'm right, atp, they're just too scared to admit it.
to anyone who's struggled with feeling like you're going to get attacked by mel's fanbase, i see you. i know how it feels to be scared like that, and you don't deserve that. if you'd like to reach out anonymously, please, feel free! i am an open book and you are safe here unlike w mel <3
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SCUG HEAD CANOSN jsutbecause iknow ill never draw them all
(warnijng. LONG ASS POST)
FOR 1. SIZE CHART BABY
monk < survivor < arti = rivulet < spearmaster = saint < hunter = gourmand!
survivor: a little on the skinny side, inbetween artificer and monk. albino i think :) if not then has sort of snow leopard patterning. small eyes, taking after their mama (i . headcanon gourmand is monk and survivors parent if this is dis proven by canon im So sorry i havent finished the game yet)) triangle shapes mostly. quiet and cautious (they used to be curious, but the world didnt allow that) and always tense, prepared for a fight. desperate to find monk :(. journey < destination. glass half empty
monk: takes more after gourmand! orange tabby coloration (+ karma flower marking on back) if that makes sense. big round eyes (sort of like how scavs with big eyes r usually friendlier) and significantly healtheri than survivor ! (i think slugcats r sort of like seals, they hv a ton of bodyweight. though they can vary, gourmand is like a little over average scug size) circular mostly (round ears, round eyes, round body etc) kind and curious, sees good in the world but above all wants to find survivor. journey > destination. glass half full.
hunter: very big slugcat, almost unnaturally so. a little skinny cause having the rot is no good for your health :( i dont have many headcanosn for hunter but ithink they have poor sight , completely blind in their canonically scarred eye which i think it was overtaken by the rot. the reason they can hold spears isbecause they have tendrils of the rot growing out of their back and wrap the spears around if that makes sense. square shapes mostly. a bit stocky, more muscle than fat. quiet, stern, and rarely takes risks. a bit lethargic from the rot eating away at them. journey < destination. glass half full
gourmand: THE best rainworld character *THE BEST* i think aboutthem alll the time ohohoo o RUBS CLAWS TOGETHER IGOT A TON OF SHIT. ok ok so basically they r THE ultimate slugcat . u guys know that one post about gourmand having the power to throw spears with the strength of a missile being shot. i cant remember if that was the exact wording but YEAH that was my exact idea of them they are incredibly inventive and smart and STRONG AS FUCK. they throw spears with *three times damage* than the average amount and that s FUCKING insane they kill so many creatures in literally one single hit man you cannot tell me that isnt Ridiculous. like no wonder they get exhausted after that?? god DAMN??? i straight up forgot what i was writing about in this post ilove gourmand too much OH RIGHT HEADCANONS . well for one they r surv and monks parent . due to ahving explored pretty much every corner of the region, they know a significant amount of rain world's history, just by piecing it together themself! very wise, emotionally. very strong morals and very strong will! they are surprisingly humble despite their incredible feats, but arent afraid to show confidence when needed. they are a friendleader forreal, they definitely know every slugcat in their colony by heart and are always there to cheer you up when u r feeling downl. good slug,best friend. knows a TON about fighting, very good at paw 2 paw combat i bet theyd spar with the little ones for fun sometimes :). already mentioned this but they r very kind and generous To a fault. a very competent leader but they do tend to take on too many responsibilities! i think they maybe stopped doing this when idk one day a scug in the colony saw them pass out from overexerting themself or some shit and then everyone started to pitch in after that. they are very grateful and a little embarazed. also when they lost monk and survivor i think the whole colony stepped up for a while to help while they were grieving (dunno if they were in the colony while losing monk and survivor, maybe losing them was what motivated them to keep pups safe IDK bare with me)) i think theyd be the eldest or second eldest of all the slugcats . they try to be fun with kids and are INCREDIBLY protective, letting no threat get within 100 feet of someone they wish to protect. they have been EVERYWHERE imean fucking everywhere. almost photographic memory, stores so much knowledge in that jineeeeeeourmos brain of theirs. boisterous/charismatic, welcoming, kind, and above all (despite the odds!), very happy with life :) mostly square shapes but theres some circles thrown in. . journey >>> destination. glass half full
love this thang. the spug.
*ok* holy shit i got off track. anyways
artificer: surprisingly, an incredibly small slugcat. just over the average juvenile size (a little bit bigger than survivor, and smaller than pretty much everyone else.) incredibly thin. before losing their pups, they were significantly healthier and just generally happier. i think they always had their xsplodey shit but it was more like a snail, a loud pop of noise used by detonating their explosion fluid stuff to startle predators if that makes sense? but then after losing their pups and doing nothing but KILLING KILLING KILLING KILLING scavengers for cycles upon cycles, they neglected caring for themself - including eating. eventually, they became near spearmaster in size & were able to propel themself into the air with the blasts due to their near-nothing weight. most scugs groom themselves as to not have their short fur become overgrown and tangle, but due to artificer's l;ack of nutrients they probably dont have their fur grow alot (does that correlate? idk if eating -> fur growth BARE WITH ME) BUT. they have it grown just enough to tie spears to their back with it. its matted and tangled and is rock solid when you touch it. OH ALSO before losing their pups, they had light brown fur! but then it stained permanently with scavenger blood :) atleast in my hc haha. ALSO their scar isnt just over their eye it covers about half of the left side of their body, renderng them entirely blind and deaf in their left eye and ear. partially deaf in their right ear from all the EXPLOSIONS they hear all the time. covered and imeanCOV;ERED in scars, moreso than hunter. unhinged fucking CRAZYYYY other slugcats are scared shitless of them bt they have a soft spot for slugpups so they would hypothetically always try to remain semi-not-deranged when around one But they havnt met any without guardians yet bc i know theyd drop everything and adopt them (or maybe not, in fear of having past events repeat?). square and triangle shapes. journey <<< destination. glass half empty.
rivulet: :) FISH . GUB GUB GBU i think out of all the slugcats i know the least about them BUT i love them all the same :) they r the MOST fun ever to play as! they strongly resemble a seal! their ears r almost nonexistent + they hv very short limbs and loooong whiskers. fat as FUCK (normal slug size) and incredibly fast they dart around like a bullet! actually pretty big, a little bit shorter than spearmaster (who is around saints size and a little shorter than gourman) big round fucking eyes and Surprisingly super quiet? usually just Stares......they radiate such a jittery energy youd think theyd talk alot (if scugs could talk) but no not really :) my cat is drooling on my arm thought id let you guys know . OK back to this ! very helpful and outgoing, a *little* nosy but out of genuine curiosity, always up to the task no matter how daunting. charming in their sillyfunny gooberific way. im sorry i dont have a whole lot here i wish i knew more about them :(( mostly circular shapes with some triangles. journey = destination. glass half full
spearmaster: very tall and VERY thin slugcat. pretty much all of their bodyweight is stored in their tail and you can. imagine how that i;s ! a bit lethargic from prety much having NO nutrients at all.. but to make up for it theyre pretty speedy and flexible as hell, they can bend their bones pretty much to fit into small spaces. also INSANE reflexes. pretty plain everywhere except their tail, you can very much tell they were Created. i think they are a bit irritable, but otherwise peaceful. tends to have tunnel vision when they are tasked with something to do, and are always wiling to help (i think most purposed creatures share this trait) they are pretty smart but have really bad memory i think. ALL triangles. journey < destination. glass is filled with water, what else are they supposed to think?
saint: second tallest (only a LITTLE taller than spearmaster). fluffy, curly, braided-in-some-parts fur. they have a faaaabulous mustache and FAAAABULOUS eye lashes. pretty thin, surviving as a vegan in a snow-covered world is difficult. their tongue works more like a chameleon tongue ithink ifthat makes sense? like they cant control it it just FWIP flashes out and sticks to stuff with barbs on the end. i do not know NEARLY enough about saint to say a single thing about them But ilove them theyre awesome. composed of pretty much all the shapes, maybe some diamonds in there too though. geometrical lookingikd ifthat maekssen8JURDTHJURDTIH. completely neutral on journey/destination and completely neutral on glass half full/empty.
also, . consi;der. ., arti <3< saint. if you know you KNo;W;98JRSEY9J8SH5E
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The Time Traveller’s Total Recall of the Spotless Mind
This is it. I’m finally here. It’s been such a long journey, I almost forgot it had an end.
I’m watching from the shadows as you eagerly drop to your knees in front of a man twice your age. I’ve been told this is far from the first time, but for my purposes, that’s irrelevant. What matters is that you want it. At long last, you finally want it.
You told me so yourself, many years later.
And this recording, this is... insurance. A bet against me and all my schemes. It’ll be in a safe deposit box, waiting for you. Someday.
But now… I’m here. After forever and a day. I’m here, first to bear witness. Second to pass judgement. And third, to complete what you’ve begun.
Does that sound cruel? I suppose it does. I suppose it is. But as you’ll learn over a long, eventful life, this is the smallest harm I’ll ever do you. This is the smallest slice of you that I’ll take.
Trust me, my appetite will grow. Or so it’ll seem to you. To me, there is only this. This is the climax. My climax. The one that matters.
I’d like to tell you how you were so innocent and unstained the first time, but to me, that’s how you’ve been every time. Always naive. Always careless. Always stupid. You were always surprised, the first time I grabbed you. Always.
You never once said no.
Oh, you begged me to stop, yes. But it was a request. A prayer without faith. What I mean is that you never once asserted your authority. You never refused. From the moment my hand touched you, you always knew.
I can only imagine what it must feel like, to experience that again and again. That moment of recognition. I wonder if it’s the same every time, a tingling that races through your veins? Or if it slowly becomes something dreadful as it melts into the rhythm of life?
I’ll never know, of course. My ticket is one way. I only get to go back, until I’m done “going”. And then… I’m gone.
Like I said. This is it.
So you’ll never tell me how it feels. You’ll never tell me if you regret what you did. You’ll never admit you miss me. You’ll never thank me for all the times I visited you —long past the point of enjoyment— just to make a fucking point. To you. For you. So that you can live the rest of your godforsaken life with a clear understanding of your actions and their consequences. So you can finally grow into something that isn’t completely disgusting.
The rest of your life is my gift to you, you deceitful cow.
This is our 50th, by the way. Our 50th meeting. Forty-nine have come and gone, building upon one another as the months blur into years and I become like an intrusive thought with claws that leave their marks. All of them building to now. From now. Which is then. I think.
No, my grasp of the method isn’t great. This could be happening through science, or it could be magic. How would I know? I paid them for my ticket, and then it started happening. There could be a miniature black hole powering this shit, or a fucking eye of newt. I don’t care.
They even warned me this might not work. That time might not work, not the way I’d like. That instead of visiting my wrath upon a single version of you, backward, over the course of a lifetime, I’m perhaps spawning new versions of you, over and over. That I’m littering the multiverse with broken little iterations of a faithless bitch.
Again, I don’t care. All fifty of you have it coming.
From my angle, it’s as if I’ve been falling through you. Into you. Sometimes I stop. Sometimes I stop, and I look at you, and I think about how much I used to love you, and it just breaks my heart. And then I remember you can’t break a dead fucking thing that you killed long ago. And I realize that isn’t a broken heart I’m feeling. It’s pity.
That’s the last thing you deserve. Even now. Especially now.
I’ve decided that I can’t rely on righteous rage anymore. That’s what got me here, but after all… you know what? Maybe the people at The Center were right. What if they were? What if I’ve hurt you each time, but it’s… it’s never amounted to anything?
You’re a pathetic, weak piece of shit when it comes to other people, but when it comes to you… you’re strong. If anyone could rise above everything I do during our times together, it’d be you. And failing that, you’re just fucked up enough to memory hole it entirely and pretend it never happened.
So this… this now might be all I have. This last thing. This last time. This might be all of it. What happens here might be all that happens.
I told myself I was targeting your volitional sexual awakening because I wanted to visit the wages of your sins upon you before you’d even committed them. To thoroughly defile you before you beat me to it. But it was more than that.
In reality, I’m here for the same reason that I began this trip at all. To make you stop. Stop lying to me. Stop stealing from me. Stop hurting me. To stop believing that what your selfish cunt wants is worth all I have to endure. To stop you believing in yourself.
So I’ve come to find the purest, most precious, most powerful moment in your history, the moment when you first felt like a unique human, fully fleshed, confident and joyful…
And I’m taking it away from you.
Because if you knew how to be ashamed, you would have never done it. You might have flirted with him, but you would never have done it. But this. This… this always called to you. This feeling. You told me, when you were packing, and yelling, and venting your spleen.
You could always feel it, and it made you want more. More than everything I had. They told me I won’t exist after today —might never have existed, won’t yet exist, I don’t know— and after what you said that night, I realize you wouldn’t care if you knew.
When I erase that feeling inside you —when I trample it and grind it to powder and watch it blow away on a hateful wind— and leave you with nothing but doubt and fear and bottomless fucking yearning, your pride will expire. Your stubbornness will fade. You will understand that some things are wrong, even when they feel right. That you’re wrong, and now it’s left to someone who loves you to make you right.
You will look at that man at the gym one day, and instead of smiling, you will lower your eyes and mind your own business. So what I’m doing now, it isn’t just lust and anger and vengeance. What I’ll be doing to you, it saves our marriage. Or saves your soul. Or just makes me feel better. Makes me feel right.
You should know by now, I don’t care. All I know —really, truly know— is that I am here, I have a knife and your fate in my hands, and once your “friend” is done with your mouth and on his way, I will hold the one to your throat and the other I will weigh. I will consider it, nestled within my palm, and I will look into your eyes for the slightest reason to relent.
But I know I won’t see it. It’s not there to see. There’s no reason, after all this. No reason not to do it one more time. Harder. Longer. To make it a living nightmare for you. To wreck you for a lifetime.
You’re going to be the end of me. I need to be sure I’m your beginning.
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The cut of the stolen time capsule videos starts with a close up on Ida Clarke, the blonde wagging her finger before speaking.
@idaclarke:
“This place ain’t your friend.”
It cuts to black for a split second, before cutting to the next video.
@sassa-fiske:
“People aren’t who they say they are. They aren’t who they pretend to be. Trust me. Nothing and no one is what they seem.”
And again, and again, as it cycles through what seems like everyone’s submitted videos.
@anyaexe:
“You’re here for four years, and from that point onwards most of these people won’t spare you a single thought.”
@charfletchh:
“Fuck it.” You see her consider it briefly before lifting up her top and flashing her chest.
@leakywright:
“Fuck bitches, get money.”
@snxwflxwers:
“Do cocaine. Cheat on your finals. Sleep with your best friend's partner. Try your best not to get stabbed in the back, but I'm sure you will anyway. None of this actually matters, all your parents will pay so nothing ever ruins your damn lives."
@defavorise:
“Don’t disappear without a trace and leave a bunch of cryptic notes for your peers to find. It’s dramatic and fucking weird and it’s already been done.”
@sebmorrison:
“My best piece of advice… don’t waste a second of it, because you never know when it’s gonna end.”
@ironlvngs:
“This school is boring as fuck. So boring, that a missing girl from campus must have been the most interesting thing to happen to it since I started. And it's no wonder she had to slip and run away from here the way that she did.”
@aletheapierce:
“Everyone you encounter has so much more going on under the surface. Be careful, be kind, and maybe spend some time exploring what’s there. Then maybe they won’t surprise you in ugly ways.”
@jacqui-velazquez:
“Jesse made me feel like I mattered. And then it turned out it was all just…fake. A game for him. A literal bet. And once he won, he just ghosted. Even though I was…”
@jessehart:
“I was fucking this girl who had a boyfriend for pretty much all of my Sophomore year. And I’m not sorry. It was fun, we had fun together. The secrecy and the sneaking around is fun. And you know what? I’ll do it again next year.”
@aceofportsmouth:
“I’m just another brat.”
@milonavarroo:
“If you manage to look around you and every single person has their back turned, you should look inward and you will probably find the reason why."
@court-mills:
“I feel like I’ve gotten so addicted to the feeling of people actually liking me.”
@cinnamonfm:
“I’m overworked and exhausted. I’m constantly trying to live up to some invisible standard that I’m not quite sure I meet.”
@rhia-falla:
“I used to think I existed for a boy. To love him and heal him, to give him every part of me. But people aren’t toys to be fixed. It doesn’t work like that. All I did was break myself trying to be needed by him.”
@walshparker:
“How often do you run into your ex—a serious ex—after they’d hooked up with someone else, find out you were completely wrong about a person, bite back… intense guilt in front of a friend, and finally feel like you’re going somewhere with someone who really excites you? All in one night?”
@ollieinoue:
“One day you can be getting stoned in your room after a party and some scrawny little shit head from South Dakota will walk in and suddenly maybe you don't want to die as much as you used to…But I guess there is a lot of shit I still haven't told him. Like, I'm just really … Forget it.”
@dantebsinferno:
“I like fucking guys. Change that, I love it. I don’t care if they are in me or I’m in them, it’s the best shit.”
@rileyvander4rd:
“You made a big mistake and if you're smart, you'll fix it. If not, I guess I'll see you fifty years from now.... when I look almost as hot as I do now and you're regretting every life decision you ever made since the day you chose to view me as a commodity.”
@mari-zuko:
“I thought I loved her.”
@pi-mimi-for-hire:
“Life sucks. You can’t escape it.”
@nataliavega:
“Since these look way better now than they will then…” Nat’s fingers bunched around the hem of her shirt before she lifted it and her bra up, flashing her bare chest at the camera.
@montyrichler:
“Ogden’s dogshit. Sorry you didn’t make the cut for Yale."
The video cut to black again, this time staying black for longer, a few seconds ticked by, letting everything the viewer had just seen sink in, before a familiar blonde’s face appeared on screen.
“You see,” Greer Morrison started, eyes distant even with the easy-going smile on her face. “People think the way to get close to me is to let me in on their secrets. But they never once tried to figure out mine.”
“And god, I have so many,” the golden girl said, letting out a low laugh, the sound contagious, just as it always had been when she was actually around. “Like...for example, things are over between my boyfriend. Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet, but if he hasn’t figured it out by the end of the summer….”
And with that, the video cut, this time turning to black for good, leaving everyone wondering - what else had Greer shared on that tape?
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um. so. ive been thinking over my past relationship, and i dont know if im in the wrong for hating my ex or not? like. he wasnt very affectionate, which is just how some people are, i guess.
but the only way he tried to be at least slightly affectionate was by talking about sex, A LOT. like, every single day. like, sure, he could be sweet, but that was only in the beginning of our relationship. later on, he just. stopped being loving in any other way aside from sex.
all he complimented me on was my looks. he said he liked my personality, but then ended up saying i was unfunny and insufferable later on. i dont know if they were jokes or not, is the problem.
but heres the thing that pisses me off the most. he pretended like he was gonna break up with me, knowing it was one of my worst fears, as a joke. he said something along the lines of "i prank you once and you suddenly act like im the worst person in the world." like. we had taken a break from our relationship only a couple months prior to this, and it took a fucking TOLL on my mental health. he knew this. and yet he pretended he was leaving me anyway.
and then he actually broke up with me like. a few weeks later i believe. and he completely ignored me after that. i didnt get any comfort, besides one single "im sorry".
im just wondering if im in the right for hating him, because he was just clearly unhappy in our relationship near the end, and the feeling was mutual. and maybe him being unaffectionate was just his personality and he had a hard time showing love. i dont know. sorry this was so lengthy ack
Okay, so sorry this took me a hot second to reply to Ethan!! I really wanted to offer up like my full attention to really answering this in a meaningful way. Because just reading through this reminded me so much of the situation-ship that I was in when I was a teenager. Sadly, I think a lot of us are prone to falling into these kind of relationships when we're young and don't really have much experience with romance or any other kind of intimacy and it's a real tragedy.
TW for descriptions of emotional abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, and mentions of sexual harassment below the cut because whoo boy this is gonna be a long one.
In my situation, the guy completely drained me of everything. He would encourage me to vent every single feeling and thought I possibly could. But as soon as I took it to heart and dared to talk about my day or something that was bothering me, he'd go, "Did I ask?" or "Didn't ask."
And that doesn't even scratch the surface of the sexual shit. The guy had a girlfriend who didn't really know anything about sex. So he'd make sexual jokes to her and make me explain their meaning to her, knowing full well that I had feelings for him. Then he'd turn around and make jokes and conversation about my own sexuality. Like as soon as he figured out the daddy issues thing, he went nuts with it. He immediately used sex and my insecurities to deliberately fluster me and make me uncomfortable because he knew it would only make me cling closer to him.
I went through almost three years of him upping the ante on his bullshit to the point where I was completely codependent on him. And even now, close to three years removed, I'm still unlearning some of the shit he instilled in me.
I don't think it's wrong of you to hate him exactly? Like there's often this narrative that gets pushed on victims to "forgive and forget." And for some, that may be beneficial in order to obtain peace of mind. But that isn't a one size fits all solution. Sometimes things just haunt us and we learn to live with it. Which might sound terrible un-motivating. And sometimes it is! Because there's a lot of work required for untangling these situations and trying to find something of value in them. Because they shouldn't have happened in the first place. But they did. It isn't fair that it happened, but it did, and I don't think you're a bad person for not being able to just swallow that.
I myself can never forgive the guy who fucked me over, mostly because he didn't just do it to me; he also did it to one of my best friends. And for her sake, that anger and defensiveness flares up and in a strange way, it allows me to process my own feelings. Because if I don't think she deserved that treatment, surely I should be able to muster up that same love for myself? Perhaps I should be able to advocate for myself with the same, fervent kind of love.
Because people who do that kind of shit–people who deliberately hurt you over and over again–they do it because they want to put you in a cycle where they can say and do whatever they want, all while knowing completely that you'll go right back to them for that validation. In my experience, it's those folks that are so sad and so ridden with insecurity and dysfunction that they derive enjoyment from doing this to people. And I'm not talking about people who maybe suddenly blow up before realizing their mistake and apologizing. I'm talking about people who take joy in hurting you. Those are people who will always feed on your sympathy and your willingness to see the good.
Whenever I found myself trying to humanize my abuser after everything, I started reminding myself that no matter what low point I've been in...I have never done the things he did. Sure, I may have been more short with people or a little less thoughtful and isolated myself. But I never once made that my excuse to deliberately and repeatedly hurt the people who love me with no remorse. So, no, I don't think it's unreasonable to hold to negative feelings over him. There's no one size fits all prescription for navigating these situations. It's all about what we can live with. For me, I can live with knowing that if I ever saw my abuser again, I probably wouldn't throw hands exactly, but I most definitely wouldn't be smiling and singing Kumbaya with that fucker.
However your brain and your heart chooses to receive that experience is completely up to you. Because at the end of the day, it is your experience. And you tell yourself and do whatever you need to in order to live with it. I love you, Ethan. Please please please be gentle and kind with yourself, bud.
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