#so it’s good to go in-person too so your name and number won’t be lost to the void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

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Request: wrong number au, Eddie texts Gareth something personal but puts in 1 wrong number & ends up texting Steve. The two of them hit it off & start chatting & then when they meet IRL they are completely head over heels in love & its cute as fuck

MY LOVE MY LOVE MY LOVE!!! LOVE A GOOD WRONG NUMBER AU!!! I can't believe I've never written it before now. I also had to actually include Gareth because I am actually obsessed with him lately, and I just think it's really neat that we can make these characters our own. This was such a fun and cute request! I didn't do the inappropriate route because I thought this was hilarious so sorry about that. I made up for it with something else! - Mickala ❤️

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GARE BEAR! You won’t believe it but i dropped my phone in a sewer. Lost everything.

He had never been so happy about having his closest friends’ numbers memorized. His phone was somewhere under the streets of Chicago, floating through dirty water and sewage, dying a slow and painful death.

He texted everyone else one at a time, let them know he had a new number and to completely delete the old one because it would never be recovered.

They were used to things like this happening; He lost his phone annually at this point and it was cheaper just to get a new number than transfer everything to a new one.

He went to dial Wayne, the old school part of him insisting on phone calls instead of texts still, when Gareth’s name popped up with a new text.

Not sure who Gare Bear is, but sorry about your phone. That’s shitty.

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

did you mean to make a pun?

Did it make you laugh?

yes

Then yes.

Eddie sat down on a bench, entirely focused on his conversation with this stranger.

Did you find your Gare Bear yet?

Not yet but i think i’m pretty happy talking to you for now

Smooth, Eddie.

Admittedly, he was in a hell of a dry spell.

Going on almost two years, actually.

A little flirting with a stranger never hurt anybody, not when he clearly needed some practice.

Not sure if your Gare Bear would like it very much though

Wait, what?

Eddie stared at his phone, trying to comprehend what that could mean. Why would Gareth not want him talking to a stranger?

I hope you find your partner though!

Oh.

Oh!

Eddie hit the call button in the corner before he could even register what he was doing.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he sounded hot.

“Hi. So, Gareth is very much not my partner. He probably actually wishes I would really forget his number,” Eddie rushed out.

“Um. Okay?”

“He’s been my best friend for ten years and he thinks I’m a mess. Not a partner,” Eddie further clarified.

“Got it. Not a partner.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Eddie coughed.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Steve. Sorry about your phone, seriously that sucks,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, like he personally threw Eddie’s phone in the sewer.

“Oh, no big deal. I lose my phone more often than I go out with someone,” Eddie said.

Why did he say that?

Steve let out a laugh and it was like music.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile taking over his face at his laugh, already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let this guy go without learning more about him.

“So you’re, what? Celibate?” Steve asked.

“Far from it. Well, maybe not far from it. Temporarily, maybe. It’s been a while,” Eddie admitted.

“How long?” Steve asked, a loud bang coming from his end of the phone. “Sorry, I had to go outside for some privacy.”

Eddie wasn’t going to read into that. He wasn’t.

“Two years give or take. I mean I’m not counting shitty dates that ended before they got worse. So, yeah. Two years.”

“Been a year for me, but. Yeah, I get it. My last relationship didn’t end on the best terms. She decided I was too in love with her I guess,” Steve sighed, voice sounding pained.

She.

Steve was probably straight.

There was no way he’d be lucky enough for Steve to like men.

Or for Steve to like him.

“I can’t really imagine breaking up with someone because they loved me too much. I’m usually the one who falls too hard,” Eddie admitted.

“Yeah, well, same here,” Steve sounded sad, a bit withdrawn.

Eddie wanted to hear him laugh again.

“I doubt either of us have ever fallen as hard as my phone did down a drain,” Eddie said sadly.

Steve let out a loud laugh and Eddie smiled.

“This might sound crazy, but I’m kind of glad your phone decided to live in the sewers,” Steve said when he finally calmed down. “And maybe a little too happy that you typed your friend’s number wrong.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Was this flirting? Was he successfully having a flirtatious conversation with a potentially very hot guy?

“So I can be bold and ask if you maybe wanted to meet up somewhere?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“So you’re in Chicago?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“For the last five years, yeah.”

“You busy tonight?”

Eddie’s heart stopped.

He was really going to meet up with a stranger just because he liked his laugh and hoped he was hot.

He’d done more with less.

“Yeah, actually. I’m getting dinner with this guy I accidentally texted,” Eddie smirked, looking down at his feet.

“Dinner? What a lucky guy. Where are you going?” Steve sounded amused.

“Well, it depends on what he likes. I’ve been craving some pierogies. Ever been to Staropolska?” Eddie asked.

Gareth’s family owned it, and he used to eat there two or three times a week while they were in college, usually working off his bill in the kitchen doing dishes after.

He hadn’t been in a couple months, work keeping him busy and his budget being pretty tight when he moved into a studio apartment by himself.

He had enough to treat himself tonight though.

“The one on Milwaukee? Yeah. One of my favorite places to get devolay,” Steve sounded surprised that he knew it.

“You won’t believe this, but the friend I was trying to text when I got you, his family owns that place.”

“No way! Then we have to. We owe it to the guy who has almost my exact phone number,” Steve responded.

“Meet you there at seven?” Eddie asked, suddenly more nervous.

“Seven sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggled. Eddie fell in love.

“We should probably hang up.”

“Should we?” Eddie asked, not wanting to stop talking to him yet.

“Yes, I have to do my hair. Gotta impress the guy who drops his phone in the sewer and texts strangers about it.”

“He sounds like a loser. Don’t put too much effort in,” Eddie sighed. “But okay. See you at seven.”

“See you then.”

They both stayed on the line for a minute.

“Okay. For real. Bye,” Steve laughed.

“Bye, Stevie.”

He hung up before he could convince himself to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.

He breathed out a loud sigh, smiling as he realized he had a date.

He dialed Gareth’s real number immediately.

“Gareth, I have a date!”

“What is this number, Eddie?”

“Oh, I dropped my phone in the sewers. Not important. I have a date!”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. Come over then.”

—-----------------------------------

Gareth had been his pre-date hype man since high school, though he wasn’t very good at it.

Mostly he calmed Eddie’s nerves and helped make sure his hair didn’t look like he just woke up, which was often its unfortunate state of being.

“So, you don’t know this guy,” Gareth said from his bed.

“No.”

“And you talked for like two seconds and decided you’re in love with him,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“And you think this is totally normal and sane?”

“I didn’t say that. But we just…I dunno. We clicked. I haven’t been that at ease with someone in a long time. It felt natural,” Eddie fell back on his bed, starfishing so his arm and leg hit Gareth’s legs.

“Dude, I’m not discouraging it. I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t as easy when you meet,” Gareth said softly.

“Yeah, thanks. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Tell babcia I’m coming by tomorrow for lunch.”

Eddie sat up and gave Gareth a quick hug.

“Thanks Gare Bear!”

—-------------------------------------------

He arrived 20 minutes early so he could sneak in the back to say hi to Gareth’s grandmother, who still insisted on getting her hands on the food every day for a couple of hours despite being nearly 80 years old.

“Babcia!”

“Eddie! My kochany! You forget to visit and I forget what you look like!” she rushed over, flour and oil stains all over her apron.

He should have kept some distance so his shirt didn’t get ruined, but he ignored the part of his brain telling him to look perfect for his date so he could get a hug.

“You know I have to watch my money,” he said against her shoulder.

“And you know I feed you for free if you clean up after yourself. No excuse,” she pulled away and looked him over. “You look handsome. Why?”

Eddie put his hands on his hips.

“What? Don’t I always look handsome?”

“Of course, but this is different. Your hair is smooth and you smell like the perfume store,” she smirked. “Is it a girl? Or a boy? Or a someone?”

“It’s a boy. We’ve never met in person, so I wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted.

“Oh! How lovely! What’s his name?” She was back to kneading dough, but kept her eyes on him.

“Steve. He actually has been here before, loves the devolay?”

Babcia froze.

“Steve? Oh goodness.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands, muttering under her breath about something.

Eddie’s heart sank. Babcia didn’t seem happy about this.

“What’s wrong? You know him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he not a good guy? Has he been mean to you? I’ll call and cancel right now,” he insisted, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He is a very sweet boy. He got broken up with in this restaurant a few months back. Tore me to pieces. He just sat here for hours crying. I moved him to a corner booth for his privacy and he left me a $100 tip and ever since then when he comes in I make sure to give him as many szarlotka as he wants.” She touched Eddie’s shoulder. “You be good to him. He has a nice heart.”

Eddie’s mind raced.

Why had Steve agreed to come here for a date if this is where he’d been broken up with? Why did he even bother coming back if it held such bad memories?

What if he didn’t see this as a date?

The front door chimed and he heard the employee at the front welcome someone.

“He will be good for you, drogi.”

Eddie nodded before making his way to the front, stopping in his tracks when he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen standing at the podium, talking to the employee with a smile.

“That’s him,” Babcia said from behind him. “Go get him.”

She shoved him forward, nearly making him trip, which caught the attention of Steve.

He looked over with a curious smile, and then realization seemed to hit him.

“Steve?” Eddie managed to ask, loud enough to be heard over the few full tables in the restaurant.

“Eddie?” he asked back, hesitantly moving towards him.

“I, um,” Eddie started, then cleared his throat. “I usually sit by the window, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Steve nodded.

It was cliche, like the room around them closed into just them existing together, like the stars had aligned exactly right for this moment to happen.

They sat down at the table Eddie usually sat at, staring across the table at each other in slight awe.

Eddie really hoped that Steve was having the same feelings he was.

But one thing was stopping Eddie from being completely enraptured.

“Is this a date?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Steve seemed surprised by his question. “I mean, yeah. I’d like it to be. I thought it was.”

Eddie nodded once, but remained quiet, thinking.

“Oh God, it wasn’t, was it? You were just being nice. What is it with this restaurant? If I didn’t love the food so much or babcia, I would never step foot here again, I swear-”

Eddie put his hand on Steve’s to calm him down, frown on his face.

“Woah. What?”

“I just. I don’t have the best history with dates here and I guess I didn’t learn the first time something bad happened, and now I’m being too much too fast again in this place and-”

Eddie pulled Steve’s hand up to his face, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Stevie, calm down. This is a date. I’ll have as many dates here as you want to to get rid of whatever negative stuff you associate with this place. Babcia would hate that I ruined this place for you,” he said quietly.

Steve seemed to relax at his words.

And if you wanna tell me about what happened, you can. If it’ll help,” Eddie offered.

Before Steve could reply, Gareth’s cousin, Ben, came to take their order.

It was a quick order, both knowing exactly what they wanted, and then Steve looked back at him.

“It’s just. My last girlfriend, who I was with for almost three years, dumped me here. It was kind of out of the blue for me, and I had a really hard time that night.”

Eddie felt his heart break.

How could someone do that to Steve? He didn’t need to know him better to know that he didn’t deserve that, especially not if babcia had taken him under her wing so quickly.

“She must be awful to have let you go like that,” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand in his, resisting the urge to go to his side of the table and hold him.

Steve shrugged and looked down at their hands.

“I mean, I should have known. She was never much for romance or spending time together that didn’t involve work or school. I was looking at engagement rings and she was looking at apartments to get away from me. I was just…really blinded by what I thought was love,” Steve smiled sadly at him.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, it may have been a type of love. It was more comfort than anything. She was kind of all I had for the first year we were together, and I think I just ignored how unhealthy that was for both of us. And then I met Robin in college, and she was like the opposite of Nancy in every way. A few months before Nancy broke up with me, I told her that Robin’s parents kicked her out when she came out to them and that she needed a place to stay until we graduated. She agreed, then never made any attempt at getting to know her. And I didn’t read into it, Nancy isn’t like, super talkative with people she isn’t already close with, and Robin just kinda stayed to herself when Nancy was home.” Steve took a shaky breath. “But it turns out she didn’t bother getting to know her because she already knew she was gonna break up with me and leave the apartment to me and Robin, so.she just. Didn’t bother. Robin warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Eddie wanted to cry.

Steve’s voice was full of pain, but not in a way that told him he still loved her, or still hoped they would get back together. More that she broke a part of him that he still hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

“Was she jealous?” Eddie asked, trying so hard to understand what could have happened.

“I dunno. I mean, Robin’s a lesbian, and I definitely never had feelings for her anyway. Nancy was always so sure of herself, I can’t imagine she’d be jealous.”

“It sounds like she didn’t appreciate you very much.”

“What do you mean?” Steve didn’t sound mad, just curious.

“Well, she didn’t even make an effort to get to know your best friend, right? And it sounds like she was too busy focusing on her future to even think about what you looked like in it, and instead of trying to plan it with you, she made a future for her. She sounds a bit selfish,” Eddie shrugged.

Instead of being upset, Steve laughed.

God, Eddie loved that laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just that you sound exactly like Robin. You’d probably be two peas in a pod.”

“Tell me about her,” Eddie genuinely wanted to know more about the person who kept Steve going.

Their food arrived in the middle of the story of how Steve and Robin met, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

Eddie listened with a fond smile, filling in Steve’s gaps of silence as he chewed a bite of food with questions or something related to what he’d been talking about.

It was easy.

It was fun.

Halfway through the meal, Steve’s foot rested against one of his and it felt like electricity shooting through his bones.

Eddie told him about Gareth, and his family who had pretty much adopted him when they both moved here from a small town in Indiana. He talked about his uncle who raised him for most of his life, who visited every Christmas despite being on a really tight budget.

Time passed quickly, but not at all.

They hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there until babcia came out without her apron to hand deliver an apple tart.

“You boys enjoy. I’ll see you both soon!” she said as she smacked a kiss on top of each of their heads.

Both of them blushed, but tried to cover it up with a bite of food.

As they finished, Steve looked outside to see how dark it was, how few people were left walking the streets.

“Guess we should head out,” he muttered, sounding like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Would you wanna come to my place? We don’t have to do anything except talk, I promise. I just don’t really want this to end yet,” Eddie suggested.

“Really? I haven’t bored you?” Steve asked, just a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

Eddie shook his head.

“Not at all. I’d really like to get a chance to love you the way you deserve,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Eddie should back up, should say something less intense.

But if this ruined it, then at least he said what he was thinking.

“You think you could love me?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“I think I already do a little,” Eddie admitted.

Steve blinked at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

“I need to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Now? Here?” Eddie smiled.

“Now. Here.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Steve stood from the table and stood in front of Eddie, placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down.

Their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss, softer than Eddie expected.

Steve stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, and Eddie couldn’t help the words tumbling from him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

If someone had said it to him, he would think they were just trying to get him into their bed, but that wasn’t the case here and he hoped Steve knew that.

“People used to call me a charmer, but I don’t think I’m half as good at it as you,” Steve whispered, his breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips.

“Just honest.”

“Take me home,” Steve said, opening his eyes and staring at Eddie, his eyes glowing with something close to love.

—-------------------------------------

They stayed up all night, never doing more than kissing and mapping out patterns on each others’ skin.

They talked about everything, even the painful parts of life, even the parts that they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

It didn’t make any sense that someone who had been a stranger not even 24 hours ago could already mean so much.

When the sun started to shine through the curtains of Eddie’s apartment, Steve sighed and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I have to go to work,” though he burrowed his entire body further into the bed and Eddie’s side.

“You could call in sick,” Eddie suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Robin would kill me.”

He and Robin worked together as team teachers at an elementary school. When one of them missed, it left the other with 34 kids alone.

Plus, Steve loved his job, worked hard to be a teacher, and hated missing a day if he didn’t need to.

“Maybe you could bring Robin here after work? I can make dinner?” Eddie’s job was pretty easy, marketing for an Indie record label based out of New York remotely really kept him busy for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time was spent writing his own music.

Steve sat up and looked down at him, his hair ruffled from Eddie running his fingers through it for the last eight hours.

“You’d wanna meet Robin?”

“Yeah, if you want me to. She sounds like fun.”

Steve started crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry. Good job, Munson, already ruined something good,” Eddie was reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and emotional. And just. It means a lot that you’d wanna meet her,” Steve said between gasps for air as he continued to cry.

“Of course I do. I could even invite Gareth over, too, if you want. He won’t believe that our date went well,” Eddie joked, brushing the tears away from Steve’s cheeks.

“I’d love to meet him,” Steve said, sniffling.

“When can you guys get here?”

“Usually we’re done by four, but sometimes we stay later to finish grading stuff. Maybe we should say six?”

“Got it. Any allergies?”

“Robin is allergic to shellfish. She says she is. I think she just doesn’t like them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No shellfish, got it. Any preferences, my love?”

Steve blushed at the term of endearment, looking down before he leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

“Anything you make will be great.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes for work?” Eddie asked.

“Do you have any business casual stuff?”

Eddie gagged.

“Unfortunately, it’s required for the job sometimes. Far left of the closet should have something,” he nodded towards the small closet by the bathroom.

Eddie watched as Steve walked over and picked out his only pair of khaki pants and a navy button down. Steve looked back at him and winked before he nodded towards the bathroom.

“Could use some help working the shower if you’re willing to,” he smirked.

Eddie jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, ignoring the way Steve was laughing.

“The hot water is tricky sometimes. I should probably get in there too to make sure it stays hot,” Eddie said as he stripped off his pants.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want me to get cold,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “Kiss me?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue brush along his lips just to get a taste.

“Okay?” Eddie checked in.

“Yeah. You remember what you said last night? About loving me like I deserve?”

Eddie nodded.

“I want you to. And I want to love you back.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #gareth emerson #wrong number au #modern au #ficlet #request #getting together

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ikigaisvt · 5 months

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seventeen as tropes – vocal unit

starring: jeonghan, joshua, jihoon, dokyeom & seungkwan + gn!reader / (mention of mingyu in dk's) words count: 3.5k in total (between 400 - 800 each, expect seungkwan's 1.3k..,,.,..,, dont comment on that pls) content: fluff, non-idol!au warnings: everything is soft tbh? skinship (cheek kiss, kissing, holding hands), teasing, pining, rivalry, shitty team mates/friends, crying, lots of blushing lmao, very very very very sappy note: seventeen as tropes has been sitting in my drafts since 2022 and i'm FINALLY letting it out,, i hope everyone enjoy it! i decided to post it by units or else the post would get Too long (i already went off on this one lmao) don't worry hhu unit and pfu unit is already in the making hehe >.< pls don't come for me if some members have more words than others! inspiration isn't going to be the same for every tropes so i hope everyone can keep that mind! minors can interact with this fic but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. ignore any mistakes pls my brain is Dead rn,,, pls enjoy this piece of mine and don't forget to leave a like/reblog/comment! mwah mwah mwah good reading~

Jeonghan: Blind date

Jeonghan never loses bets and everyone in his friend group knows that which is why no one ever makes bets with him. He is just an extremely lucky person and he can always get his way out of any situation; expect when the person he made a bet with is Joshua – I taught him too well, he thinks to himself. It’s all because of a lost bet that he finds himself going on a blind date on this Thursday afternoon. That was the bet – to go on a blind date with someone the other picked. To say he was nervous was an understatement. All he’s hoping for is that Joshua didn’t prank him and sent like Seungkwan as his date. That would be awkward, he thinks as he makes his way quicker to the café.

As for you? Well, here you are, waiting for Joshua’s friend in this new café that opened in the neighbor. You don’t really know what went through your mind when you agreed to this blind date; something about Joshua’s words, probably. He can be a bit too convincing at times, something he apparently learned from this special friend – Jeonghan. You’ve never met the guy but oh have you heard countless stories about him. You know he’s one of Joshua’s closest friends so maybe you won’t get a relationship out of this but you will be able to talk about Joshua’s weird antics – in hopes Jeonghan isn’t worse, somehow, than your best friend.

You’re lost in your thoughts when a voice softly calls your name. You look up to see the most beautiful man ever and he quickly introduces himself as Jeonghan, as he sits down in front of you. You don’t really notice how Jeonghan looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful human he has ever seen or how a slight blush creeps up on his ears. And Jeonghan doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks or how you slightly smile to yourself every time he tells you something. You two talk for hours; complaining about Joshua’s behavior – and you don’t let Jeonghan get away with turning him into a little devil, talking about how cute Sylvanian families are – he even shows you the ones he has, he rants about Legos, too, while he lets you tell him about that last book you read – something about a fae prince and a human falling in love. The staffs at the café breaks you both out of your conversation, letting you know they are closing in 10 minutes – it’s only when she comes around that you realize you are the only customers left. You quickly gather your stuffs, expecting to say goodbye to Jeonghan in front of the café but he naturally walks you back to your place. It’s when you’re leaned on your front door that he asks for your number – I thought he would never make a move, and he promises to see you soon before leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. It’s only when Jeonghan leaves you that he realizes luck was, once again, on his side.

Joshua: Coworkers

You’re very grateful for your coworkers at your new job. It’s only been a few months since you joined the finance team at this new company but everyone treats you like you have been part of the team for a long time. Everyone helps you out in new tasks, especially Joshua. Whenever you have to do something you aren’t used to, Joshua comes running to help you out and he cheers you up every time you have a hard time. You never really questioned how he acts as you always thought he was just being nice – as he is with anyone else. However, as your coworkers have known him longer than you, they know how you always get a special treatment from him; he makes you coffee when you start working and after lunch, he brings you your favorite chocolate, he prints out your folders for you and makes sure you always have your favorite pens working. His crush on you is known to everyone but you.

That all comes to light on a company dinner where Joshua special dots on you even in a restaurant far from work – he gets you food, fills up your plate and your glasses, lends you his jacket when you get cold and even offer to walk you home. All of these little attention gets him teased by your coworkers while you are still as oblivious as before. Joshua wears a profound blush on his ears all night but once again, you still don’t notice the pink tint of his ears (you honestly think it’s a cause of his drinking) and Joshua is entirely too happy about you being so clueless.

A few hours later he walks you home – as he promised. However, you surprise him by asking why everyone was teasing him back there. He stumbles on his words, the blush going to his cheeks until he finally admits it’s because he has a crush on you ever since you walked into the office on your first day. And now you’re the one with the blush, stuttering an answer – I like you too, but Joshua takes you by surprise by kissing you.

Jihoon: Acquaintances

You have known Jihoon since middle school; he was just always around in your group of friends and yet you didn’t know him at all. All you knew about him is that he liked music and as much as you thought he was nice, you never thought about making friends with him – if you didn’t all this time, why now? But when you’re in your first year of college, walking into your liberal arts class and you see only one familiar face – Jihoon’s, you walk up to him because it’s always good to know someone in every classes – to get notes or for future project.

So, you put on your best smile, sit down next to him – hope to god he remembers you – while starting to rant about how glad you are he’s here. However, all you’re met with is a blushing and stuttering Jihoon; “Sorry, I- uh- I forgot to water my dog- I mean, no- Forgot to give water to my dog! Bye!” before he runs out of the auditorium. It’s an understatement to say you are confused about his behavior, hoping he doesn’t secretly hate you – and is currently at the college’s administration to beg for a transfer. He’s cute, after all.

Next week, you are standing in front of the door of that same auditorium wondering if you’re going to find Jihoon in there. You don’t give yourself time to run away, pushing the door open and promising yourself to try and make a friend in this class today. You sit down, not trying to find Jihoon among the students. You didn’t even finish pulling out your laptop that the chair beside you is pushed back – Someone sat down next to me! – and you look to see who your new best friend is, only to see Jihoon looking at you, smiling. He greets you, asks you how your morning went before apologizing for last week – something about him being stressed. You let him know it’s alright – you can’t just hold grudges against him. And he’s cute today too. That’s how you two become friends after more than 10 years of being in each other’s life – or like background. And so, because Jihoon never feels like he apologizes enough, he does anything you ask of him for weeks: he buys you food, lends you his notes, makes you playlists but most importantly, when you ask to see his studio, he accepts.

On a Friday night, he picks you up and you two walk together to the studio, as you ask him about music – all these years, you always saw him with a guitar or humming songs and yet you never knew how it all started. And so, he answers all your questions, he talks, again and again, he tells you everything because it’s you. When you get to the studio, you walk around, touching every instrument, asking more questions while he sets up his computer. He goes out for a moment – letting you know you can play around on his computer – to pick up dinner at the fast food down the street. Of course, you take his offer, settling down on his chair and you open Youtube, play some songs before trying to make a simple track. It’s when you open his files to add one of his samples that you stumble across a file named after you; you can’t resist the urge to open it, finding songs after songs – Run to you, Darl+ing, Lean On Me, Adore U.

Jihoon comes in a few minutes after, the computer still shining with all these songs. And that’s when he knows – he knows he can’t hide it anymore, he knows all these years he spent at a distance from you can’t happen again, he knows he has to tell you. So, he tells you – he never talked this much in a night – he tells you he always liked you, he never forgot that first day he saw you in middle school, he explains how much he tried to not be in your life but he always felt himself be pulled in. He confesses that’s how he started music – because nothing but this could describe what he feels in his chest when you’re there. And you have tears in your eyes, you feel like your heart is going to implode from the love he gives you and you tell him; someway, somehow, your life has always felt empty when he was missing. When college came around you were scared you were never going to see him again. So, when you saw him, you knew this was destiny. You knew the world pulled strings for you two. (You spend the night at his studio, listening to every song he made for you while you two build a new world together.)

Dokyeom: Love at first sight/Meet cute

Dokyeom knows it; he’s in love. Okay, he hasn’t been in love before but he is pretty damn sure if love is something then it’s this; your chest tightens, you feel tingles in your stomach and you can’t stop looking at everything they do. That’s what he feels right now, when he sees you reading your book in that coffee shop.

He’s here with his best friend who tries so hard to get his attention but nothing can make him look away. I’m not being a weirdo, he reassures himself. You’re just so pretty, sitting there while reacting to that book – at one point, he saw tears pooling in your eyes – while you sip on your tea, your headphones on. You stay there, reading away while he watches you, then stops looking when he feels like you’ll notice him but he finds himself looking at you soon enough, never being able to really stop.

It's when you get up, making your way to the bathroom that he breaks from his daze – I need to get a grip. So, he focuses on his best friend’s rant, listening, actually answering his questions. But when he misses you, he looks back to your spot only to find it empty, only your book left behind. He gets up immediately and make his way to your spot, not even caring about Mingyu’s complaint. He picks up your book – Me Before You, he reads – and hurriedly makes his way out of the café. As he looks around, trying to find you, he notices you at the end of the street, a few meters away, waiting to cross the road. He runs up to you, not wanting to let you get away and as he gets to your level, he gets weirdly nervous; it’s not like he’s gonna make any move, right? He lightly taps your shoulder to get your attention. You turn around, a natural smile hanging on your lips as an answer. Dokyeom feels his heart beat faster right away and he knows it’s not even the nervousness, it’s you – Hi, uh- I- I was in that café, he starts as he points behind himself, I think that’s yours, he says as he holds out the book between the two of you. Immediately, you react, your face twisting in something between surprise and gratitude as you grab it and you never stop thanking him, again and again, asking him how you can repay him. Nothing, he answers, stars in his eyes knowing he will never be that close to the sun again, just- enjoy that book, okay? he finishes, turning around to go back to his best friend and his cappuccino. He walks slowly, almost as he expects you to catch up to him, almost as he wants you to – and he does. It’s when he pulls the door of the café open that he feels a light touch on his shoulder, his body reacting to you before his eyes can even see you. His lips pull up, his eyes shine again and he turns around, his heart reacting the same way again, before you extend a piece of paper between your bodies, stuttering; You forgot something too, the blush on your ears deepens, my number.

Seungkwan: Rivals

Seungkwan has always loved badminton; at this point, he talks about it so often, the whole school knows. Which you might be bitter about – only because you don’t like sharing something in common with him – but it’s only normal people do know about it; after all, he’s the captain of the boy’s badminton team. Now, what people of this school don’t know is that there is also a girl’s badminton team in the school – however, they are about to know. You have been leading the team so well, even though it has only been two years since it first got together, that you now get to share the court in your school’s sports hall to practice with your girls. Your coach – which is also the boy’s team, also lets you know that you’ll be meeting the other team every 2 weeks for friendly matches so the girls could improve in their skills.

It's the next day when you walk onto the court, already prepared for practice – you just need to take care of a few things as you are the team captain. Unfortunately, you stumble onto Seungkwan when you least expect it – you thought the team had classes at this time (not that you know his schedule, of course). Seungkwan doesn’t understand what you’re doing on his ground and he asks you to leave or else he will tell the coach – as if he had any kind of weight on her. Go tell the coach I’m here, go, you scoff at him, knowing she will only let him know what’s really going on. A few minutes later he comes back, the coach by his side, as he rolls his eyes at, probably, the thought of sharing anything with you.

And that’s how the rivalry between the two of you gets worse – if that was even possible. Your team meet every other day, practicing side by side and sharing laughter – expect you and Seungkwan. You both make your possible to annoy each other – you take the best spot first, you help the coach, you give advices to his team mates, you even go as far as to use him as something not to do on the field. On his side, he refuses to say your name, he keeps reprimanding your girls, he even says how even a toddler could play better than you and even go as far as to flirt with your team mate. Fortunately, even through all this fight with him, you and your girls train hard and your skills are rapidly improving. Time passes by so fast and it’s already time for your first match against the boys. You gather your team, let them know you believe in them and to not get intimidated by their playing – they are going to play hard and we need to hit back as much as them. It’s when Seungkwan sees you like this, so serious, so sure of yourself and so proud of your team, even when they lose points that he notices you in a different way. The way you burn with passion and yet how your eyes still shine with love when one of your team needs words of encouragement. He didn’t think he would ever feel like this but right now, you are distracting him from the match. And nothing, distract him from badminton.

The match is fierce, the room is burning with pride and want for the win; which the girls get. You cheer again and again, even the boys are congratulating your team – only Seungkwan doesn’t as he gathers his stuff and leaves first – which somehow, stings. You think it’s because his pride is hurt but it’s only because he can’t bear to see you anymore when he feels like this – heart fluttering, lips forming into a smile – at the sight of you.

The training keeps going after that win, the matches too; you keep annoying him and he does too, even though is comments are more helpful than anything; don’t do it like this, you’ll get hurt or even tell them to coordinate their moves, it will make them better – but you don’t notice, you only do the contrary of what he wants you to. The 5th match comes faster than any of you expect and you fight for the win with your team – you haven’t won these past 3 ones and it’s taking a toll on the team spirit – but the luck isn’t on your side when you sprain your ankle. The match stops as soon as you yelp, your team mates too surprised to react right away. Through the pain, you open your eyes when you feel a hand touch at your ankle delicately, trying to evaluate how hurt you are. You expect to see your coach but you meet a pair of brown worried eyes – Seungkwan. Are you hurt somewhere else? he asks softly, before turning around and telling everyone else to give you space, talk to me, please, he pleads, his big brown eyes fixed on your face. The after shock of the fall passes by as you stutter; why do you care? before asking for two of your team members to help to the infirmary – the coach letting everyone know the match is postponed, as you go through the door.

A few hours later you’re sat down on the cold bed, waiting for one of your friends to get out of class so she can drive you home – two weeks without walking and a month with no badminton, at least, the nurse told you earlier, but please go see a doctor, she finished before leaving you alone in the room to rest. You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door, thinking it’s your friend that’s here to bring you back home – finally. You’re more than surprised when you’re met with Seungkwan’s figure at the door as he asks you if he can come in, which you answer with a nod. He walks in and sats down on the chair at the end of the bed; what did she say? he asks, nervous at the thought of talking to you normally – and also, at the thought of not seeing you for practice anymore. 2 weeks with crutches and a month without playing, at best, you whisper, trying to fight back the tears. Oh- I’m so sorry, he says, sounding sincere. It’s not like you have anything to do with that, you sneer, wiping a tear off your cheek, do you? He sits back, now realizing how far your rivalry had gone for you to thin he could hurt you; no, of course not. I would never, he says seriously, as he sits down at the foot of your bed. Yeah, sorry, you apologize, your voice breaking in the middle, I thought that was what we did. Hurt each other. He takes in your pain which is much more than physical right now; your heart is on the verge of breaking and it’s mostly because of him; Not anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore; he starts as you lookconfused by his words. So, he explains; how his aversion for you came to be because you were a better captain, how people compared you two together, how some of his old team mates wished to have you instead of him. How he found himself to be as admirative of you as people are, how he finally understood everyone when he saw you play, how badminton was made for you, the same way you were for him. How these feelings bloomed in a place he thought was burned by the spite of others. How he wishes he could take everything back but since he can’t how he hopes you can give him a chance to do better, in the future. So, you do; you hold his hand as you both stay silent; he starts to come up with way to fix your broken heart and you, coming up with a plan to keep the flowers blooming even in winter. Maybe love is the way to it all.

thank you so much for reading! leave me a like/reblog/comment if you want and you'll have my unconditional love forever 🫶

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dark-frosted-heart · 3 months

Text

Alfons vs Roger event (Part 2)

Roger using keigo is weird and I don't like it.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Kate: I’ve covered my face with a veil, so I shouldn’t get found out, right?

At the viscount’s mansion, I disguised myself as Lady Claire, the viscount’s niece, with the help of the people aware of the situation.

Alfons: I think it’s perfect with your face hidden. Though personally, a little bit of exposure would be more intriguing.

Roger: Yeah? Everything’s the same if you strip.

Kate: Minus one friendship point from the both of you.

Alfons and Roger: ………Huh?

Kate: If you’re not being “good”, I’m taking away points.

Roger: Hey now, our judge’s pretty cocky, isn’t she?

Alfons: Hehe, how scary. Well, no matter. What’s important is…

Alfons and Roger: Turning the tables.

Kate: Earn them properly!

(They sync up in the weirdest ways…)

(Is this really okay?)

–

Lady: Happy birthday, Lady Claire!

Alfons and Roger smiled beside me as I sat on a chair with my face hidden behind a veil.

Alfons: Lady Claire has caught a cold so she’s lost her voice. She will thank you properly another time.

Roger: We will take care of the present. Thank you wishing her a happy birthday.

Lady: O-okay…

(Perfect…)

The two’s clever attitudes caught the eyes of those around them.

Alfons and Roger are both villains who always push me around.

I can’t even count the number of times they’ve teased me to the point I was red in the face from anger.

(However, when they’re serious, they’re more reliable than anyone else)

Kate: That’s 10 friendship points…

After quietly whispering that, they gave refreshing, gentleman-like smiles.

Alfons and Roger: Thank you.

Alfons: Lady Claire, we’re running out of space so I will move the presents to the other room.

Roger: You can’t carry them all by yourself. I’ll help you, Al.

Alfons: Thank you, Roger. You’re so thoughtful.

Roger: Of course. Come, let’s go.

(Yes, nice chemistry!)

(Perhaps it won’t be long before they actually get along)

—At that moment, I heard them whispering as they walked away with the packages.

Alfons: That hurt…

Roger: That’s my line…

(...Eh?)

When I turned around, the two of them were stepping on each other’s feet.

Alfons: Please move your feet out of the way. I have very long legs, so it’s difficult for me to avoid them.

Roger: What a coincidence. My legs are longer than most so it’s hard to avoid them.

Moreover, their shoes were covered in footprints, as if they’d been stepping on each other for a while.

(Good grief!)

Alfons and Roger carried the presents while continuing to step on each other’s feet.

When there was no one else around, the two looked at each other.

Roger: Al…

Alfons: Yes, I’m thinking the same… Really now. We’re too loved by evil, aren’t we?

(Okay, it looks like we’ve finished with the greetings)

After receiving the presents and having dinner with the guests, I sighed in relief.

Somehow, no one noticed the switch.

Alfons: Lady Claire, we’ll be escorting our guests out now.

Roger: I’ve prepared some drinks in the other room.You must be tired, so please rest there.

Alfons and Roger: Be at “ease”.

Kate: Phew…I’m glad it ended without any problems.

I wanted to remove the veil, but it was better to be careful until I left the mansion.

(Anyways)

I couldn’t help but laugh when I recalled the two’s immature behavior.

Having a partner who you can be open about your feelings with without consequence sounds like a happy and heartwarming thing.

(But I need to decide on a winner. And do away with the servant stuff)

As I thought about this, the door opened without a knock.

Kate: Oh, Alfons, Roger…

But it was someone else who entered.

He wore a tailcoat and his hair was swept back. At a glance, he looked like the son of a noble.

However, this man clearly reeked of evil.

I’m not Kate at the moment and shouldn’t speak under these circumstances, but I couldn’t help it.

Kate: Who are you…?

Man in tailcoat: You don’t need to know my name. However, I’m going to have to ask you to stay quiet, Lady Claire.

The man smiled wickedly and pulled a gun out from within his coat.

Man in tailcoat: You’re the beloved niece of that Viscount Morris. He’d easily give up an asset or two to save you.

(Meaning you’re holding me for ransom?)

(Ah—Could it be that)

I don’t think Alfons and Roger would have possibly missed this person’s ill intentions that even I could sense.

(Perhaps Alfons and Roger “purposely” created this situation)

~~ Flashback ~~

Alfons and Roger: Be at “ease”.

~~ End flashback ~~

(If that’s the case, all I can do is get as much information as possible)

Kate: Do you…always do something like this?

Kidnapper: Yes, that’s right. Kidnap, extort, kill, and dispose.

(This isn’t the first time he’s done this)

Kidnapper: But I’ll let you live if you behave. Now come over here.

Kate: !

To keep the man from coming closer, I threw a teacup on the table at him.

Kidnapper: Ah, hot…!

Kate: Too bad for you. You won’t get a single penny from kidnapping me.

Kidnapper: You…fucking imposter! Know that I know—I’ll kill you.

The moment the man cocked his gun, the window facing the balcony opened with a bang.

Alfons: Killing sounds nice. I wish you didn't have to die first, but I guess that's not going to happen. Look, your gun’s disappeared.

Alfons knocks the gun away with his saber and Roger picks it up.

Roger: Well, this gun’s a fake that we swapped out filled with blanks.

(Alfons, Roger!)

Roger: What. Thought you’d be crying prettily, little lady, but you’re tough.

Kate: I believed in you. The both of you.

Alfons: Aha! You really have the worst taste in me.

Roger: Pfft, haha. That’s the best kind of blunder.

Alfons and Roger cover my back.

Alfons: Now then-

Roger: Let’s get this over with.

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #ikevil #ikevil jp

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purplephantomwolf · 5 months

Text

Love in Motion

Chapter Three

Synopsis: Lydia gets a wrong number text from Lando Norris.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two

Next Chapter: Chapter Four

Masterlist

April 5, 2022

6:30 pm

My phone vibrates, pulling my attention away from the lab report I’m currently working on. I smile as Luke’s name flashes up on the screen.

Luke: Good morning, Lydia

Me: Good morning, Luke

Luke: Did you sleep well and have a good day?

Me: I did! Did you sleep well and have a good day as well? What did you do during the day?

Luke: I did too! I spent the day putting some finishing touches on an event for this weekend. Did you watch any more F1 during class today?

Me: No, I was a good student today. But I’ve got a Monza quali on as I work on my lab report.

Luke: Ahh, that was an exciting weekend for McLaren.

Me: Shhhh! Don’t say anything! I don’t know the results!

Luke: Sorry! My lips are sealed.

Me: I know that Max obviously wins the championship, but that’s literally all I know about the season. I’ve managed to not see any of the results.

Luke: How have you managed that?

Me: I know literally no one who watches F1, so no one to spoil it for me.

Luke: Well, now you have a friend to talk to about it.

Me: I do! You’re going to get a bunch of texts on Saturdays and Sundays about it.

Luke: That sounds good to me. I won’t be able to respond to them because those are my busy days.

Me: Sounds good. I’ll try to not overwhelm you with texts then.

Luke: Alright. Do you want to continue our game of 20 questions?

Me: Sure, it was your turn to ask a question!

Luke: Okay, going to go deep here. What’s your biggest fear?

Me: Damn, that is deep. But I think it’s not being able to find someone. I fear that I’m going to end up alone, with no friends, no significant other. My turn to go deep. What do you do to cope when things get hard?

Luke: I go to my family and friends. I talk to them about what’s going on and what I’m struggling with. What’s your favourite thing about yourself, physically and not physically?

Me: Physically, my eyes. Not physically, probably my ability to get along with everyone. What’s your biggest pet peeve about social media?

Luke: The hate that everyone dishes out because they’re behind a screen. It’s awful to see the things people comment on posts of the drivers and their friends, just because they’re behind a screen.

Me: I’m sure. I personally dislike social media, so I’m not really on it. I’m only on TikTok and Discord.

Luke: No Instagram? No Twitter?

Me: Not even Facebook.

Luke: Damn, I wish I could do that. I have to do it for my job.

Me: Yeah, it’s nice not having to worry about putting up a facade for my fellow college students to hate on.

Luke: Yeah, that’s nice. So, photography. Your photos are excellent. How did you get so good?

Me: Well, my grandpa was a photographer for a while. I used to spend a lot of time in his studio, so I kind of picked things up from him. Then I took some classes in high school. I’ve luckily managed to find time each week to take photos in college, so I haven’t lost my skills.

Luke: That’s awesome. You mentioned that your parents won’t let you do photography. Why don’t you find a job in it and then move out?

Me: I’ve thought about it. But there’s no jobs that I’ve seen that I would be interested in.

Luke: That sucks, I’m sorry.

Me: It’s okay! I’ve been keeping an eye out though.

Luke: Okay, so what got you interested in Formula 1?

Me: I saw a TikTok of one of the drivers one time and was like “He’s kinda cute and funny, wonder what he does.” Which led me down a rabbit hole that ended in an obsession with learning everything I can about the sport.

Luke: Interesting. Which driver was it?

Me: It was Charles, but then I was watching some old McLaren content of Carlos and Lando the same day, and Lando became my favorite.

Luke: So Lando has always been your favourite?

Me: I’d say that yeah. What got you into the F1 world?

Luke: I had a friend that was in karting when I was a kid. He got me interested in the industry, and I thought it would be fun to plan the events for the drivers and fans.

Me: That’s fun! As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I should go be a good student and work on my homework.

Luke: Oh! Sorry for distracting you!

Me: It’s okay! I’ll talk to you once I’m done with my assignment?

Luke: Yeah! Sounds good to me!

Me: Perfect! Talk to you later!

Luke: Bye Lydia!

I put my phone down and focus back on my assignment. I groan seeing that I still have five questions left. I hunker down and start making my way through the questions.

************************************************************************

9 pm

Me: I am back. I have completed the god awful homework.

Luke: That’s a win. So, tell me a little about yourself.

Me: Well, what do you want to know?

Luke: Anything you want to tell me.

Me: Well, I’m a 20 year old chemistry college student. My birthday is May 17. My favorite color is purple. I love watching YouTube, specifically Smii7y. I absolutely love music, I’m always listening to it. I like art and creative activities. Tell me a little about yourself now.

Luke: Well, I’m a 21 year old event manager for McLaren F1 racing team. My birthday is November 13. I love traveling the world and taking photos, too. I love hanging out with my friends and family.

I yawn as I read Luke’s message. I rub my eyes, trying to stay awake to continue the conversation.

Me: I am currently fighting sleep so hard.

Luke: Go to sleep, Lydia. We can talk tomorrow.

Me: Okay, sounds good. Good night, Luke. Talk to you tomorrow.

Luke: Good night, Lydia. Talk to you tomorrow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @dilemmaontwolegs @copper-boom @ironmaiden1313 @ophcelia

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 story #lando norris #lando norris story #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x oc

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yuritarot444 · 1 year

Text

PICK A PILE 🫀

˚ ༘♡ ·˚BOOK WITH ME ₊˚ˑ༄

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

I’m doing paid readings, here’s the link to my prices :) it’s super cheap to book with me and you won’t be disappointed, so why not take a chance? You will definitely have insight and clarity once you book with me now! 5 dollars for a reading and 10 dollars depending on how detailed you want the reading. (A more detailed reading is 20 bucks) learn more about the prices by checking out my list linked below!

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Pick a pile, 1, 2, 3, or 4.

How to pick a pile:

Choose a picture that’s to your liking, a picture you feel connected to, then read the number of the picture you chose! :) this is a general romance reading.

☽

PILE l ✯

For those who chose pile one, there is a lot of pain here. You’ve lost someone and you are in mourning. Wether be it from death or separation. Right now its hard for you. There is so much conflict that cause you to hurt. The changes you are facing are sad and hurtful and you are trying too cope. Don’t lose hope though because i see there will be new love entering your life. This person is you’re soulmate. They will be your lover. It will be a perfect union that is will help you heal and grow with this person. Beware though you’ll never get better if you continue to hold onto things or people that you have lost. You need to move on in order to find your happy place with the new person coming in. Be careful not to be too possessive either. Try to be humble, everything will come in time and be put in its place for you. On the other hand i see an opportunity for you with career, you will have financial stability when it comes to this opportunity so take this chance and everything will be going good for you.

PILE ll ✯

For those who chose pile two, there’s a lot of change coming your way. It’s been hard for you in you’re life but you will be coming out of a painful situation. Do not be afraid of change because the change that is coming is going to be what you need to get yourself up again. You’re afraid but you don’t have to be. You are indecisive about a situation and you don’t want too make the decision because your scared but you should choose your decision now. It will lead you down a good path. There will be good news coming in for you. You might get a phone call and be making exciting plans, so go out there and make those choices because it’s leading you down an exciting path.

PILE lll ✯

For those who chose pile three, you’ve been overloaded with stress could be because of work or problems in your life. There is too many responsibilities for you to tackle all at once and its hard for you. You feel restricted and that you are being taken for granted. Things may not be going you’re way. Someone might’ve cheated and broke you’re heart. You could’ve fell in love with you’re one night stand but it might have not gone well and turns out they were a terrible person. In this time you are going to be on your way of success, you might be planning or coming up with new ideas. You will have a breakthrough. You will realize the truth and do what you need to. You will be self employed or doing well in your career and you will be manifesting whatever you want and working hard with focus to achieve your dreams and goals, which will come true.

PILE IV ✯

For those who chose pile four, you’re going through a struggle because of you’re relationship, and your at your last breaking point. It’s become so stressful and you might want to leave the connection. There’s a lot of regret, guilt, and remorse. Be strong everything is happening for a good reason, it might not feel like it now, but there is a purpose for all of this. The relationship will end and you will be free of this connection. You will let go of this connection and move on. For this ending will bring about a new beginning. This will transform you and heal you for better to come. It might be a battle, but once you fight for what it is you want it will happen for you.

☻

Thanks for staying and reading if you enjoyed and you wanna know more dm me for a more detailed reading! It's cheap and affordable and you won't regret it! See you soon.

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bakugotrashpanda · 2 years

Text

Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 5: Dynamight and What’s-Her-Name

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

◈ Pro Hero, Fake Engagement ◈ Word Count: 1884

◇ Chapter Select

◇ Previous Chapter

You go on a date.

Gulls cry overhead when you exit the taxi. Salty wind from the ocean gently teases the edges of your clothes. Your first date with Bakugou. He texted you a day after posting a single word on his social media: taken.

The plan is to keep it simple for your first outing — a walk along the pier, get coffee or something, chat. Ultimately the goal is to appear together. He set it up like a business meeting rather than a date, but Bakugou’s proposition was more like a job between two people rather than an affair of the heart.

A swath of ash blond hair catches the corner of your eye. Your date stands against metal fencing separating ocean and land. His spiky hair and collar of his dark blue jacket are ruffled by the breeze. Even though he gazes out over the water, no doubt he’s aware of every person passing by.

Bakugou straightens as if feeling your eyes on his back. He appraises you while you do the same to him. His jacket pairs well with his dark green pants, and the black shirt brings the look together. Casual, but classy. You only hope that he thinks the same about you.

“Well?” You strike a pose. “Did I bring it? Or did I bring it?”

Bakugou nods, the corner of his mouth curling up into an almost-smile. “Looks good, but you’re missing one thing.” He takes off his jacket and places it on top of your shoulders. It settles over you warm and comforting — and with a faint spicy, woody scent. So he does wear cologne.

Bakugou’s hand rests on your waist pulling you against him as you start to walk. Your arm brushes against his side. Are you supposed to hold onto him too? Two people walking side by side in some weird embrace? On the outside, it might look like an ordinary, lovey-dovey couple, but on the inside, you hate it.

You plant your feet into the ground. “Stop. We’re not walking like this.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“We’re out of sync and I don’t know what to do with my arms.” To emphasize your point, you make a ‘what the fuck’ gesture.

Crimson eyes narrow, but he takes his hand off you regardless. “Ok,” he says, “What’s your smart idea for how to fool the world into thinking we’re head over heels for each other?”

“Hold my hand instead?” you offer. If he doesn’t like that, then that’s too damn bad. He hesitates, but casually passes his hands over his pants. ‘Kacchan won’t admit it, but he’s very protective of his hands.’ Midoriya’s voice flows through your head. A memory from long ago.

Bakugou sticks out his hand and waits. “Fine.”

His hand is warm and dry against yours. Scars litter the back of it, some old and well worn while others are pinker, the skin healed but not much else. You have to resist the urge to take his palm and stare at it, trace the lines there and wonder what their stories are. Would he be self-conscious about that?

“So what, are we supposed to do all the ‘getting to know you’ stuff?” you ask as the two of you start meandering. “Tell you my dreams about life? Where I see myself in five years?”

“Why would I want to know any of that?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, asshole,” you roll your eyes. “Let me guess, your goal in life is to be the number one hero on the charts and be your own boss. And once you reach that, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You have no hobbies outside of work, and your only friend is Red Riot.”

Bakugou shoots you a disgusted look but doesn’t argue.

“So how far off was I?” you goad him.

“Whatever,” he mutters. The tips of his ears betray him and turn a light pink. Bingo.

“Alright, now me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you think my life is like.” Show me what you really think of me.

Bakugou’s silent for a moment. You think he won’t do it — won’t cause a scene here in public listing off all your bad qualities where anyone can hear. “You don’t have an identity outside of Deku, and now that he’s moved on and you’ve lost all attempts at winning him back, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You have an alcohol problem which you’ll adamantly deny, an’ you don’t have any real friends and suck ass at making lasting connections.”

You hold your free hand up to your chest in mock indignation. “Well fuck you too.”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou smirks.

The irony of roasting each other for being two friendless individuals while holding hands on a ‘romantic’ walk isn’t lost on you. There’s no bite to either of your statements, it just hurts that it’s true.

Shops lining the boardwalk pass as comfortable silence descends. Your mind wanders. You never thought you’d be here, hand in hand with a man that wasn’t Midoriya. Bakugou is right – Midoriya took up so much of your life. And you had to have hobbies outside of him… right? You had to. There’s no way you blindly devoted five years of your life to him.

“We’re here.” A gruff voice pulls you out of your reverie. Bakugou nods at a small cafe. He holds the door open. The cozy shop is decorated with deep browns and light tans from the walnut leather chairs around coffee tables to the tall cedar bar tables. Fragrant fruity teas mix with earthy coffee – both overwhelming and comforting all at once.

You’re guided over to the counter and the barista takes your order. Bakugou pays for both drinks before you can get your wallet out. That’s fine. You can get the next thing. Maybe lunch? And if not that, whatever you do on the next date.

While waiting for your drinks, something in the atmosphere changes. An intense pressure at the base of your skull. You need to get out of there. Something isn’t right. When you turn to Bakugou to say something, the words die on your tongue.

Eyes. You can feel the eyes. They crawl over your skin, greedily taking you in. Everyone in the store is drawn to Bakugou… and then you. Hushed conversations go from everyday topics to you and Bakugou. The gossip floats around and you’re able to pick up bits and pieces. ‘Isn’t that…’ ‘Dynamight and what’s her name…’ ‘They look cute together’ ‘When did they start dating?’ ‘Do you think I could get a picture?’

Bakugou bends over suddenly, his mouth against your ear. The deep tones of his voice give you something to hold on to to keep you in the here and now. “We’ll leave after this.”

What’s maybe a minute or two drags on for eternity.

Warm drink in hand, you follow Bakugou out. The only thing keeping you from running out of there is the fact that his body blocks the way so you’re stuck at his pace. He leads you down an empty pier, the morning fishermen gone for now. There’s nothing but the ocean’s white noise, small waves crashing in on themselves.

“You’re not used to that.” It’s a statement, not a question. You purse your lips and shake your head. No, no you’re not used to it. “I should’ve fucking known.” Your position doesn’t garner much media attention. Your engagement will shake things up without a doubt.

You stare out at the water and watch the rhythmic rise and fall as the tide comes in. “You’re a private person, how’re you used to it?”

“Comes with the job.”

Gears turn in your head. “Katsuki,” you start. He nearly chokes on his coffee when you say his name. “You’re a private person. A very private person. Have… I never…” How do you tactfully ask this?

“Spit it out already.”

Fine. If he wants blunt, you can be blunt.

“You have had a girlfriend before, right?” you ask. “I’m not your first, am I?” That’s the one aspect of his life he’s kept completely silent. Until now. There were rumors that he had a girlfriend, and other rumors that he was single, but with no proof, it was all speculation.

To his credit, he recovers smoothly, only a red tinge to his cheeks. “I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. Didn’t want one. Thought it was a waste of time.”

Fuck. “I didn’t take your first kiss, did I?”

“I said I didn’t have a serious girlfriend, not that I haven’t fucked around before.” Oh. Just how much ‘fucking around’ is he talking about? Maybe made out with someone before? Some hands in the pants action? Gone all the way?

“I didn’t peg you as a casual kind of guy,” you say carefully.

“I’m not. I just wanted to get it over with,” he shrugs. So all the way. Just to say he did it. Interesting. No doubt there’s a lengthy NDA in there somewhere.

His face screws up and heated eyes glare at you. “Are you using your fucking quirk on me?”

Your face immediately falls. He might as well have slapped you. The once welcoming ocean breeze feels like an icy kiss against your skin as heat drains from your face. Taking a step away from him, you try to keep your composure.

Your voice starts out shaky and you hate that it makes you sound like you’re about to cry. A small burning sensation in your chest spreads to your arms while a tiny whisper in the back of your brain advises you to cause chaos. “Katsuki Bakugou, I am only going to tell you this once so get it through your thick fucking skull. I will never ever use my goddamn quirk on you.”

You crush the now empty cup in your hand and stomp off. It doesn’t matter if he follows you. He’s just like everyone else. Throwing the crumpled cup into the garbage with all your might didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oi, that bothered you.” You spin on your heel and stare down your date, hoping he can feel the growing rage you’re tamping down. If you could, you have half a mind to dunk him into the ocean. What an inane thing to say.

“Of course it fucking bothers me,” you hiss. “When people go out to drink and say something stupid, they blame it on the alcohol. If anyone says something stupid around me, guess who gets blamed.” The words flow out of your mouth. “It’s not like there’s a light that turns on when I use it, so no one fucking trusts me.”

That wasn’t supposed to come out.

At least you didn’t tell him that even Midoriya had doubts about you.

Bakugou straightens, his jaw hard set. Slowly, he holds his hand out to you. “It won’t happen again.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but deep down, you believe him. It won’t happen again. Slipping your hand into his, you nod and walk side by side back down the pier.

Truth: Bakugou can read you like an open book.

Truth: There’s attention on you now. A lot of it.

Lie: You had every intention of returning his coat when the date was over.

◇ Next Chapter

Tag List: @thatfanfictionwriter , @loving-katsuki , @dienamights , @katditca , @boosyboo9206 , @alex-sulli , @hypernovaxx , @daddyissxes , @ti-mame , @thekaylahub , @ms0milk , @nerd-nowandforever , @minninugget , @tiny-wooden-robot , @icedemon1314 , @xviternity , @naiomiwinchester , @lovinkiri , @sincerelyyrosemary , @abnormalanimeweeb , @satogg , @liberace2 , @acid-rain27 , @itgetzweird08 , @chaoticorganizedmess , @neurovascular-entrapta , @kiwiified , @bnha-free-writing , @fishbolw , @xxkay15xx , @zombiewarprincess , @izuwumidoriya , @blue-enigma , @mommy-without-milkers , @plaggi , @budibbly , @hiqhkey , @great-goddess-of-sin, @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory, @zyxys1, @doonaandpjs , @chifuyus-slut , @aceredhairliberal , @dxrkdreamer , @archdag , @bakugospartner , @cxshmereclxud , @nuthonii, @sukisprint,

#bnha imagines #bakugou #bakugou x reader #writing #two truths and a lie #mine

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sweenstar-reblogs · 4 months

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It went over people’s heads yesterday b/c there’s so much happening but the UK’s anti-boycott bill was not stopped at its Third Reading on the 10th. So now, it need only pass through the House of Lords for the government to hold public bodies ‘accountable’ to it.

Here is a petition to put your name down showing you disagree - evidence of how large protest will be when the Lords accept it. With large enough numbers, it might deter them, but I’m not hopeful. I have more specific action in mind going forward.

(This is a bit more north Irish centric but worth mentioning)

Unless they ever get their shit together, I have abandoned support of Sinn Féin. I strongly encourage other nationalists to do the same. I don’t know how good their work is in the south, but in the north, they’re equal to the DUP to me now. Might as well be the same party, different colours at this point.

Of the recent bills passed through UK parliament regarding occupied Palestine (and now, possibly, the right to abstain from business with human rights abusers of any flag as peaceful protest), Sinn Féin has continued to stick to its symbolic protest, its abstentionism, in spite of increasingly dire circumstances.

Why continue to give them seats at Westminster if they won’t be used even in times of crisis, in times where the politics of UK will determine that of the world?

Idealised inaction does not work in a non-ideal world. Remaining quite literally neutral on genocide over an Irish-centric hypothetical, while tangible harm comes to our fellow victims of occupation, makes you complicit in their murder. Sinn Féin are complicit in their murder.

Our Palestinian cousins deserve better. Our friends all across SWANA, as they now face a repeat of 2000s racism campaigns by western media outlets and politicians, need better.

Besides protesting directly (though kinda pointless because Stormont is still unoccupied and not all of us have ways to Westminister), I think it’s clear SDLP should be voted in where possible as MPs at the next election.

They have been present, and voted against, every recent bill regarding the lack of restraints on Israel. And while they are too neutral on nationalism for me personally, Alliance has consistently seen its deputy leader vote in Westminster against most of its worst bills. I’m grateful for his work.

We have to do more. Boycotting Starbucks and McDonalds and HP and all that isn’t enough. All those occupied and unfree shall never be at peace. There is no point in a united Ireland built by those complicit in violent imperialism. Should that happen, we will have become that of which some lost their lives protesting. It’s only right we take power off of people who won’t prioritise the victims of imperialism when the situation demands it.

#wow this got long #I’m a cartoonist and an animator and all that other stuff I am on here . but I’m a person first #politics r not the only way forward ofc . but I imagine listing ways to do that might put a target on my back #and given where I live specifically . let’s not #irish politics #northern ireland #uk politics #Irish nationalism #free Palestine #Yemen #Irish #Ireland #no one is free until we are all free

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staticscreenwriting · 1 year

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maybe the night would take me home II Frankie Morales

Part 1 : "Divorce And The American South" & "The Thunderbird Inn"

a Frankie Morales Story inspired by the album "We Don't Have Each Other" by Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties.

A/N : This imagine series will deal with sensitive topics please see my tags for TW. Please proceed with caution. Also there’s mention of smoking and alcohol. English is not my native language, go easy on me please. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

He can just about make out the glow coming from the street light in front of his window. There used to be more color permeating the thin curtains and throwing kaleidoscope patterns into his motel room but people have started to take down their Christmas lights leaving him with just the ugly yellow of the street lamp.

The motel room is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks it's fitting because that's exactly how he feels and really, he doesn’t mind it all that much.

The clerk at the front desk, he wants to say his name is Steve, is nice, and always pours him a cup of coffee whenever he finds Frankie sitting in the tiny lobby area of the Motel where the vending machines are. The coffee isn’t good but it’s warm and that’s enough these days.

“Long night?” he asks and every time Frankie nods and says “Sure has been.” Steve then grants him one of those smiles that lets you know the person is looking straight through your lie but they’re way too nice to call you out on your bullshit.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day. Hope that one is better,” he replies, every time.

Frankie nods again knowing full well it won’t be.

He’s given Frankie a break on the rent this week.

“Look don’t you worry about it. Just make sure you pay me back with next week’s rent. I know you’re good for it.”

“I probably am.”

Steve was laughing then. He probably won’t laugh when he hears that Frankie’s coming up short again this week.

Back in his tiny motel room, his clammy hands grab the room's phone tightly. It will probably cost him a fortune to use it — again — though after throwing it against a solid brick wall, his cell phone is but a piece of junk left somewhere by the side of the truck stop.

He doesn't really need it anyway. Too many pictures and memories and shit he doesn't want to think about because he can’t get it back.

He takes another sip from the bottle. He thinks it's whiskey but he might be wrong. It all tastes the same these days.

Calling her won’t do any good and he knows but he can't help himself. It's like an itch that he just has to scratch. It's like a desperate need that he has to satisfy. It's like an addiction he has to feed.

It's 2 in the morning and she's most likely asleep and Frankie hates himself for waking her up. She's lost enough sleep as it is. But his mind is so loud and he needs to get all of these things off his chest. All the things he didn't say when he should have, when it counted, when it meant something, when she needed him to.

It's not the first time he's called either. He wonders if she'll ever pick up.

There's a perfectly clear picture burned into his mind of the first time he'd called her after he left. He had been stranded at some run-down truck stop that could've been the perfect location for the first kill in a horror movie. There was a bottle of water in his hand and the phone receiver in the other.

He can't recall how long he'd spent inside the phone booth reading her number out loud and trying to work up the courage to call her but he knows it's been quite a while. And when he did he was met with the dial tone. With every beep his heart sunk a little further, felt a little heavier.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Her voice sounded so cheery and he remembers the tears threatening to leave his eyes at the sound of it. She hadn't sounded this cheery in a long long time and his heart broke knowing that was partially his fault.

" Hey Y/N, It's me .... Frankie. If you’re listening can you please pick up the phone? I know you're home. "

He could still recall her daily schedule better than anything, after all, they had been living together for years.

" I know where I went wrong. I really do. I uh— I'm at a truck stop. Not sure where I'm going yet but I'll call you. Please talk to me, baby. I love you. "

He remembers his heart breaking and breaking more and shattering and it hasn't been fixed yet. There's that little cynical corner of his brain that tells him it never will be fixed. All good things come to an end sooner or later and this is THE good thing in his life. She is the best thing. She was the chance he never thought he’d get. A shot at redemption.

That other day he found a bar just outside the township line. He goes most every night now whenever he can feel a bad night coming. All nights are bad nights now. The floors are sticky and the bar is dusty but the drinks are cheap and the barkeeper doesn’t bother to get him tangled up in any kind of conversation. All Frankie gets is a look of pity as he pours him another drink. Fuck, he didn’t know that he looks that pathetic.

The alcohol doesn’t numb his heart the way it used to. Back when he woke up in a cold sweat with visions of a life he tried so hard to leave behind he could always count on the inside of a bottle to make the demons disappear for a while. Then when that stopped working, the drugs managed to do it.

And then when he hit rock bottom, for some inexplicable reason, life chose to send him her and she made every other coping mechanism pale in comparison. Her love did not make the demons go away, or the fear, or the guilt. Her love made him realize that he could live a good life regardless. That even the worst parts of him are worthy of love.

He thinks she might’ve been wrong.

There's a half-empty pack of cigarettes laying on the nightstand. He hasn't touched them for a while. Got them at that same truck stop where he smashed his phone but only smoked half a pack before he remembered that promise he made her a long time ago, back when she had first told him, back when they were happy.

And he failed. Because for a while he’d felt like the reason he stopped smoking in the first place had vanished. If there was no one to promise something to, was there even a promise to begin with?

The cigarettes bring back memories of the second time he'd called her. It was right after he arrived here, at this very same motel. With the very same peeling wallpaper and the chipped door and the ceiling fan that is missing one blade and the carpet with the burn marks. The same motel he is basically succumbing in right now.

He was less nervous the second time he'd called her, less nervous but more fucked up. Half drunk on cheap whiskey and half drunk on the infinite sadness he's felt ever since their life went to shit.

This time he didn't make himself believe she'd pick up. He knew she wouldn't and maybe that was a good thing. Frankie didn't want her to know he was shitfaced, that he tried to numb the pain with past vices he promised to leave behind.

" Hey Y/N "

As the words rolled off his lips there was no doubt in his mind that she'd still know. He sounded drunk. He hated it.

" Just wanted to tell you that uh — I uh I've been trying to quit. I went from a pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit. "

It had been a stupid idea, thinking this e-cigarette shit would do anything for him but it was worth a try. Everything was worth a try for her.

" It stops the coughing fits. I know that you always hated my smoking habit. I hope you can be a little proud of me. I know I don't deserve it. I love you, bye."

There was a time, Frankie thinks and scoffs, when he thought love was enough. What a fool he'd been. Now he knows that's all proper bullshit.

It isn't like he doesn't love her, he loves her entirely too much for his own good.

It's that too much love can destroy you. It eats you up from the inside out.

He can't keep himself from loving her though, and from holding onto that little spark of hope that she might still love him back. After all they've been through, all they had to endure, the thought that she might one day forgive him and love him again was the only thing still keeping him afloat. Without her, he'd sink. And maybe, he thinks, maybe love is enough. It's enough to make him go on.

There's a fly buzzing around the room, sitting down on Frankie’s arm from time to time. He doesn't have the energy to swat her away.

A little voice in his mind wonders what would happen if he just kept laying here. Maybe if he only lays here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat him alive. Maybe the night will swallow him and take him home. Maybe she’ll come looking for him.

His mind wanders off to places he tried hard to forget. To the tears and the pain and the way she didn't yell at him. Not once.

She didn't scream or yell or throw stuff at him. She just stared and let it all wash over her as if she was invincible.

He knew she wasn't. Knows she isn’t now. She wasn't invincible but she was too deeply wounded to care anymore and that was the most terrifying part of it all.

He wanted her to yell so he knew she still cared.

He thinks of the dream and how he saw himself, lifeless, alone. How everyone was looking at him as they lowered his casket into the ground. How his friends were there, his brother, his family, and even the neighbors. Not her though. She wasn't there.

His fingers are dialing the familiar numbers before he can even fully register what's happening.

There's the dial tone that he's grown to know so well lately. Three more and he gets to hear her voice.

Two.

One.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Lies. She won’t call back. But that's okay, he understands why she doesn’t. Why she can’t.

" Y/N It's me again. Frankie. "

He combs his fingers through his hair nervously.

" Of course, it's me, who else would call you at this time? I'm sorry. "

He's been saying sorry an awful lot lately. Especially considering the fact that he hasn't been very generous with that word when it really mattered.

" I had a dream. About you. Well not exactly about you. Actually, you weren't in it and that's kind of the problem. "

Remembering the dream sends a cold shiver down his back.

" I uh — I was on a plane. I flew back north, no idea where I wanted to go. All I know is that I didn't make it there. Plane went down like it was made of paper. They were all at the funeral. My funeral. Everyone. Not you though. You — You weren't there Y/N. That scares me. I hope you'd come to the funeral. I'd want you there. "

He knows it's time. She's not gonna pick up anytime soon so this might be his only chance of ever getting to admit his faults of ever talking about the actual problem, the root of all the pain and heartbreak. It's not face-to-face but it's the next best thing. It's his only shot.

" Y/N, I know I fucked up. I do know. It's just after it happened. After — "

Saying it out loud will make it real. It will break his heart once again. He's an adult though and has been running from his issues long enough. This stupid urge to flee made this all so much worse.

Take a breath.

And face the reality.

" After it happened. When we lost the baby I just, I shut off. I shut you out and I am so sorry. I just, I needed to be strong for you but I wasn't. All I did was push you away. I never listened. I wasn't there. I should've been there for you to help you get through this but I was too busy keeping myself from bursting at the seams. Fuck, I was so selfish. If I could change the way I treated you, treated the situation, trust me I would. I would. I miss her so much Y/N and I never even got to meet her and I didn't want to put this all-consuming sadness on you so I pulled away. I didn't want to make you hurt even more than you already were but that's exactly what I did and I will never forgive myself for that. I hope you can though. I love you so much. "

There's a hole in his chest the size of a newborn.

It's the size of a little baby girl he never got to meet. A little baby girl he always imagined would have his eyes and her mother's breathtaking smile. A little baby girl he'd raise to be brave and generous and smart and wonderful.

There is a hole in his chest the size of a little baby girl and he knows it will never fully heal.

He should've been there for her, his wife, the mother of his child. He had tried so hard, so hard to hide his sadness and pain from her instead of embracing it with her by his side. He should've been there with her so they could hold each other above the waters. But he let her drown by herself and he would never fully forgive himself for that.

" I love you Y/N and I'm coming home soon I promise. That's if you still want to see me. I won't let you go through the darkness alone anymore though. I love you. "

He hangs up the phone and without a warning, the tears roll down his cheeks. They're the silent kind, the painful kind. But for once, since it all happened they're not entirely from sadness, a small part of him is feeling a little lighter now that he's faced reality. A small part of him cries tears of relief. A small part of him still believes that maybe things with his wife can work out again if only he can show her how much he cares and loves her. That he can hold her hand even through the darkest of times.

A small part of him knows that it can't get worse than this.

A small part of him, a small part knows she loves him back. Even with that gray cloud hanging over him reminding him of the paperwork that might be waiting for him at home.

is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks that things can only get better from here on out.

It’s 2am when he sneaks out of his room and past the lobby. Steve will forgive him, he’s sure of it. For the two weeks' rent and for not saying goodbye.

The world is fast asleep as his car takes him down the empty streets towards the bar he found some resemblance of comfort in for the last few weeks.

One last drink, he tells himself. But this one won’t be for the bad days ahead. This one will mark a page turned, a step taken.

“Whiskey?” the barkeeper inquires, already pulling the bottle from the shelf.

“Gimme a beer instead. Whatever bottles you have in the fridge is fine.”

No more words are exchanged as the barkeeper hands Frankie the cold bottle.

This one’s for the daughter he’ll never meet, he thinks, and the wife who shouldn’t love him no more but god does he hope and pray she still does. Even when he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s got half a tank of gas left and as soon as the bottle is empty he’ll make his way home.

Not the motel.

Home. Their apartment.

And he’ll face whatever is waiting there for him.

That’s the thing about losing everything — things can only get better from here on out.

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 3 (Luke Alvez x Male BAU Reader)

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH

Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

This is my 1,800th post lol, that’s absolutely mental, also I went all out on this one, please please please read the warnings and tags.

Also there’s aspects of it that aren’t perfect but I’m okay with that, maybe I’ll change it in the future, maybe I won’t, who knows lol

Warnings: major character death, guns, suicide, suicide attempt, Russian roulette, failed suicide, dead body (not graphic, I don’t think)

Word Count: 2034

@whumptober-archive

"Say goodbye," You motion vaguely to your mouth, duct taped shut, with as much sass as you physically could. "Ah, not you. Bad hostages don't get to say goodbye. Bad hostages don't get closure." You glare at the man as he taps your nose with a grin. "No, you don't get closure." He turned around, scanning the other hostages, eyes settling on Luke who's in front of you. "He can get closure,"

You shut your eyes, hoping that, to outsiders, it looks like your mourning not being able to say goodbye to those you love. You know you're being selfish, but you don't know if you can listen to Luke exchanging his last goodbyes with Lisa.

This unsub (name still unknown) had taken large groups of citizens hostage, hurting and threatening them, before forcing members to phone their loved ones and say goodbye before he killed them. He had done this four times already with no hostages making it out alive. You and Luke were just on a coffee run when the unsub took control of the room, it was only a small coffee shop (you had convinced Luke to support a small business, he had rolled his eyes with a small smile before agreeing), and now here you were.

The unsub drags Luke to the phone, who punches in some numbers before it begins to ring. It takes three rings for Lisa to answer.

“Hello?” You furrowed your eyebrows at the voice. That certainly wasn’t Lisa.

“Hey,” Luke voice wavered

“Luke? What’s wrong?”

“Emily, I-” Luke cut himself off, swallowing. He needed to make this sound as believable as possible. “He’s making us say goodbye,”

“Luke-”

“Just let me talk, let me talk, please,” Luke’s eyes drift from the phone to you. “I know we work together and we aren’t really supposed to have relationships at work but the second I get out of this- the second, I want to be with you. I love you, I think I have for a while, but I just, things got too messy and I couldn’t say anything, I was with Lisa, you were with Kai and it just didn’t line up. But if- when I make it through this, you and I? We’re going to make up for lost time.”

At the police station, Emily’s eyes flicked up to Rossi, “We’re going to be together, you’re going to get out of this,” She hoped Luke would get the message. We’re coming for you.

Garcia’s heart ached as she and the rest of the team watched over CCTV. The situation was not good to say the least. They watch as Luke confessed his love to you through Emily, they watched the emotions fly through your eyes despite your best efforts to mask them. They saw your hands trembling slightly in front of you as you listened, as Luke’s eyes filled with tears, hands twitching towards you. All he wanted to do was embrace you, love you, be with you.

“I love you, so much, so much it physically hurts, but in the best way possible,” Luke said, only breaking eye contact to take a breath. “I’m a better person for knowing you, even if we don’t get the chance to be with each other, I’m a better person for loving you,”

Your sob was muffled by the tape covering your lips, but your shoulders still shook, the tears still trickled down your cheeks, sliding past the tape and under your chin. He loved you too. All this time, all those years could have been spent together. All this time wasted dancing around each other when you could have been together. Perhaps you would live together by now, engaged? Married? Thinking about kids? You’ve always known you wanted kids. You let yourself imagine having kids with Luke, him chasing them around the garden, the kids and Luke in a fit of giggles while you hold a hot cup of coffee close to your chest.

“And I’m so sorry that we may never become an ‘us’,” Luke added gently.

The unsub’s smirking, until he sees your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He presses his gun to Luke’s temple. “You’re not talking to her, are you?” He spits.

Luke doesn’t answer until the unsub pushes the barrel of the gun harder into his temple. “No,”

“You’re speaking to him, aren’t you?” He says, using his other hand to point at you.

“Yes,”

The man gives a laugh before turning to you, gun still against Luke’s head. “You, get up,” When you don’t move, he shoves the gun harder against Luke’s head, “Get up!”

You scramble up the best you can with your hands tied. “You too Luke,” The unsub’s hands are clenched around Luke’s shirt collar, “You, not-Luke, in front, come on.” You stand in front of Luke, “Good, now, you’re going to lead the way, try anything, I put a bullet through lover-boy’s head.” You nod sharply.

You follow the unsub’s directions, it leads you down into the basement, under a drain and into the drain systems. You do as he says, not finding a safe opportunity to try and disarm him, not whilst his gun is flush up against Luke’s skin. There’s not even a chance to disarm him when he climbs up the ladder. He’s quick to put the cover back on. You look around, you appear to be in an abandoned warehouse. He forces you and Luke both on the ground, kneeling against the concrete floor, opposite each other but still relatively close.

When the unsub takes the duct tape from your mouth, the first words that come out are aimed at Luke, an urgent ‘I love you too’, he smiles and nods with a quiet ‘I know’ and you find yourself smiling.

The unsub, disgusted by this, doesn’t waste any more time. He tips the bullets out of the gun, placing one back into it’s rightful place in the chamber before pocketing the rest - the two of you too caught up in the moment to notice - he spins the chamber before shoving it into its position. He aims the gun and pulls the trigger.

The team back at the station split up, getting in their cars, speeding to the location Garcia sent them - she was able to narrow down which tunnel he would take based on the profile. Emily, Rossi, and Tara get there first, Matt, Spencer, and JJ pulling up a second later. Emily orders Matt and Tara to head round back, the rest of them are going through the front. There’s the familiar sound of a gunshot and the team starts running.

There’s a loud bang and something warm splatters against your cheek. You watch as a small strip of blood rolls down Luke’s temple before his body collapses to the ground, lifeless, eyes already beginning to gloss over.

You don’t realise you're screaming until the unsub’s hand clamps over your mouth. You struggle against him. Luke. You needed to get to Luke. You shout, bite, everything you can think of. Eventually, he decides it’s not worth it and he stops, turns and runs. Leaving you alone with Luke. Sobbing, you scramble to your left, grabbing a piece of glass from the floor, frantically cutting at the rope on your hands - not caring as you accidentally scrape the glass across your skin. “Luke? Luke, hang on!” When the rope’s off your wrists, now a bundle on the floor, you scan the room, spotting the phone you dial Garcia’s number, it being the only one you have memorised (other than Luke’s). Garcia answers, patching you through to everyone as she’s tracking your phone. You drop the phone, no longer caring about them on the other side - help was on the way, now you needed to be with Luke.

You crouch beside him, hands hovering for a moment before pulling him up and into your lap, his back flush against your chest, his head lolls to the side, lifeless. You press your forehead in the crook of his neck. “Luke?” The silence makes you whimper, “Luke please,” Your hands clench the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, you sniff, “Please?” You clutch him tighter to your chest, a sob wracking through your body. “I love you too,” You cry, “So much, so please don’t leave me,”

In the silence, you open your eyes. You spot the gun, not too far from where you’re sat. You could join him. You could finally be with him, after all this time. You’re moving slowly, sluggish. It’s heavy and cold in your hands, sending pins and needles up your hand, of anticipation? Anxiety? Grief? You’re not sure. You draw in a deep breath as you close your eyes as you lift the gun to your temple, waiting for the courage. A tear slips past your eyelashes, you draw in one final breath. You’re ready. You nod to yourself, keeping your eyes closed as you begin to pull the trigger.

“(Y/N), no!”

There’s a click and you’re ready. But nothing happens, your face falls and your eyes snap open, no. No, no, no, no, no, please no. You open the chamber and there’s nothing there. “Fuck!” You growl, you look up, locking eyes with Emily, “It’s empty, there’s nothing there!”

“(Y/N), we need you to give me the gun,” Emily’s voice is level but you shake your head.

“No,” Your answer is immediate, “No, he- and I-”

You don’t process Spencer running towards Luke, checking his pulse with JJ, before he looks up at her and shakes his head. You don’t see Rossi and edging closer to Emily. You don’t hear Matt and Tara walking up behind you.

“I know,” Emily answers softly. “I know, but I need you to give me the gun,”

“There’s nothing in it!” You yell, “It’s fucking empty!” You throw it, following it with your glare. And it lands, a foot from Luke’s body. Luke. You’re about to run to him when you see Emily give a small nod and Matt’s arms wrap tightly around, pulling you close to him. “Get off!”

“(Y/N), it’s okay, it’s me,”

“Get off me!” Your breaths coming in pants as you try to manoeuvre your way out of the hold, all you want is Luke. You want to be with Luke. Why can’t you be with Luke? A sob leaves your lips, “Luke?!” Part of you expects him to sit up, joke about having a headache, for him to glide over to you and gently envelop you in his embrace. Your frantic eyes meet Emily’s, filled with tears. “I need- I need to be with him, please-”

Rossi comes into your view, tears trekking down his cheeks, but his voice is even, “Kid, I need you to listen to me,” Your eyes meet his, a sense of comfort rushes over you. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me, okay?” You nod frantically, wanting him to know you’ll try, you will. “Okay, breathe with me,”

You follow his breathing, in for four, hold, out for four. Your breath hitches for a moment, before his voice calmly guides you through it. Five minutes pass and they’re no longer worried you’re an immediate threat to yourself, Matt’s arms are gone and you miss the comfort. They were helping ground you. You turn to him, chin wobbling as you remember and he understands and gently wraps his arms around you. Emily and Dave send him a look and he sighs before turning his attention back to you. “I’m going to need to put these on, just as a precaution,”

You nod, what else could you do? With the handcuffs in place (in front of you), Matt places an arm around your shoulders, you bury your head into his shoulders. He rubs his hand in circles in the centre of your back, “Let’s go,” He says softly.

Shaking your head you whisper, “I can’t see him like that again,” The image flashes past your eyes, body, lifeless, pool of blood. You shudder, hands gripping Matt’s shirt as you try and push the image from your mind.

“That’s okay,” Matt answers, “We’re going out the way I came in,”

“Okay.”

“We’ll get you through this, (Y/N), I promise.”

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skaruresonic · 4 months

Photo

Colonizers are something else…

—

This entire thread is evil. I have no other way of describing it.

“The reservations are bad because they made them that way.”

No, reservations are in poor condition because when the government finished killing most of us, they shunted the survivors onto prisoner of war camps situated on shitty land in the hopes of breaking our spirits so badly the last of us would die out.

I’m not even going to bother addressing the rest of the reply because it’s sneering at mixed Natives over blood quantum, something the federal government invented in order to “breed” the Indian out of us.

People tend to misinterpret decolonization through a settler lens. Because they personally cannot conceive of a scenario in which Native people are stewards of the land because their ancestors took it through industrialized violence and force, they automatically believe Indians would seize power in some bloody coup if given half the chance. Yet they don’t realize the contradiction inherent in believing we’re too small and weak to affect such change while also believing we’d play the part of violent savages.

Which is it? Are we too dangerous, or too stupid, for our own good?

This is literal fucking fascist thinking.

Nobody in this Chili’s knows how tribal adoption practices and mourning raids work, and I wish they would all shut up about it.

When tribes went to war, they lost people. Mourning raids - called such because of associations with grief over those lost - would be conducted as a form of compensation in which families, usually women and children, from the enemy’s side would be captured and adopted into the tribe.

While I won’t lie, slavery did take place among Native tribes, this particular Redditor is acting as though mourning raids and slavery are equivalent, which is erroneous.

It wasn’t assimilation in the sense that colonization is assimilation, because assimilation requires a complete shedding of the previous identity, while adoption did not. The adopted were allowed to retain some of their old ways, which were instead integrated with the new.

People who act like the settlers and the Indians threw hands the moment they clapped eyes on each other due to some assumed inherent incompatibility are selling you some heavy fascist historical revisionism, and I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that. Because this is also not accounting for the fact that some settler demographics we think of as white today managed to find common ground with us even outside of the context of adoption. From what scant I understand (and I apologize if I’m inaccurate), this mixing of cultures into a unique culture, neither strictly one or the other but both, is the basis of the Métis. In addition, I’ve read about Highland Scots and Natives peacefully coexisting due to similarities in culture and histories of oppression by the imperialist machine.

Of course, regular old adoption sans war takes place as well (present tense, because we still practice it). There are records of colonists confusing adoption for sacrificial rites: the most famous case being John Smith’s.

You know why he made up that story of Matoaka (her name’s not Pocahontas; also, she was ten) rescuing him? Because, in addition to having a fetish for making up stories where a Beautiful Exotic Girl from whatever culture he was annoying at the moment rescued him from ~a most horrible death~ at the last minute (ew), he saw something he didn’t understand and he was like

Call it assimilation if it makes you feel better, but you should really know that mourning raids were considered a way of strengthening the tribe by bolstering numbers, since we don’t consider skin color a factor in one’s indigeneity. You could be the blondest, most blue-eyed, most pale-skinned white person in the world, but if your tribe recognizes you as one of their own, that’s it, you’re one of us now. No questions asked.

Also, because you’re considered a part of the tribe once you’re adopted, you’re not supposed to talk about it in a way that draws special attention to it. Talking about it in such a way implies invalidity. You wouldn’t draw attention to the fact that your adopted children are adopted over your biological children when both are your children. Making a distinction is just shitty.

That’s not how landback works, you fascist ignoramus. You are literally espousing White Replacement Theory.

The brainrot has left them so bereft of critical thinking that they can’t possibly conceive of the notion that fighting for the right to sovereignty and self-determination is not colonization.

Actual Manifest Destiny bullshit.

I’m… legit in awe.

Ah yes because victim-blaming never gets tired.

“They should have teamed up but they hated each other so much that some tribes helped the colonizers then the colonizers enslaved them afterwards.”

(stares in Haudenosaunee, literally a “confederacy of Six Nations” which came together in peace hundreds of years before colonization)

Also, they’ve got it backwards. The colonists did the enslaving first, and because Indians were the most convenient “resource” in the early days, they shipped Native people off before the chattel trade.

Knowledge is power indeed.

“We straight up gave them a bunch of land, and many tribes have a significant level of UBI because of their casinos, and I’ve yet to see a beautiful, well-cared for reservation.”

A.) God, I wish we had UBI. Not every tribe gets UBI, much less from “casinos.”

B.) A bunch? Bitch where? Reservations can’t even be called pittances because they were a tactic of assimilation, not an offer of generosity.

And as my own tribe’s history proves, the state is always trying to encroach upon even that. We gave you all this land, except when we need it to build a dam. Then we’ll take half the rez and bulldoze your farms and homes, forcing you to relocate on the place you were originally forced to relocate to. Because you clearly weren’t using that land, you see. Aren’t we so generous uwu.

C.) It was shitty land, land believed to be uninhabitable and unfarmable because again, the intent was to break the survivors’ spirits so badly that they would have no other choice but to die out or assimilate. And when it turned out sometimes that land turned out to have some hidden resource, like oil, the Natives were murdered over it. Killers of the Flower Moon wasn’t fiction.

D.) Reservations were originally PRISONER OF WAR CAMPS, you fucking heartless bastard.

E.) The aforementioned coupled with trauma and the intergenerational transmission of poverty (nobody hires Indians if they act “too” Indian, thus perpetuating the cycle) are the reasons most reservations are destitute. You made this shithole, stuck us in it, and now cluck your tongue at us for not sweeping up. Unreal.

F.) Assuming reservations aren’t “well-cared for” is racist, and the mere expectation that they’d be neat and tidy after we endured, essentially, genocide to the point of apocalypse, is utterly heartless.

“Two completely opposing cultures can never live peacefully together.” - oh you must be a joy to have at parties

“One will always destroy the other.”

I would now like to direct your attention to the Two Row Wampum. It is the peace treaty between the Haudenosaunee and the Dutch settlers:

The metaphor being that, although our ways are different and we may not always see eye-to-eye on certain matters, we can coexist in peace, or row down the river in parallel, as equals.

“Neither will attempt to steer the other’s vessel,” “Together we will travel in Friendship and Peace forever” - what was that about Natives inevitably foisting colonization and violence onto everyone else because Muh Evil Human Nature? sorry I can’t hear you over all this ding dong you are wrong

oh but ig the Two Row Wampum doesn’t count because we were all such bloodthirsty savages, right. We saw settlers making homes for themselves and we didn’t convene or discuss the matter in a peaceful and organized manner or extend them any help. Our savage minds were automatically like crush maim kill destroy and that’s why boarding schools are justified.

Funny because we believe no one owns the Earth, either. Funny how we already believed that.

Your friendly reminder that Natives were beaten, killed, and arrested for practicing their spirituality until the seventies.

“sometimes I can still hear their voices”

—

That’s it. Jesus. Which one of you ungagged Governor Radcliffe?

This entire thread is trash and just ignorant fascist talking points. While normally I would ignore it, I feel compelled to point out that this shit was posted three hours ago. A veritable case study in why it is always morally correct to punch fascists in the face.

#submission

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iyla-devar · 1 year

Text

Fangs & Fury || Iyla & Zane

TIMING: April 14, Iyla’s Birthday Party LOCATION: Iyla’s Home/Shimmering Sky Ba PARTIES: Iyla @iyla-devar & Zane @rn-zane SUMMARY: Zane offers himself to be Iyla's date to her birthday party CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol, blood mentions

So apparently, regular people did live in giant houses like this and that wasn’t just something from movies. Zane had checked the provided address three times before finally daring to walk up the driveway, readjusting the lapel of his maroon blazer for the umpteenth time this evening. It didn’t quite fit right anymore, the sleeves a bit too short for his arms now, seams a bit tight around his shoulders. It was either that or an old jean jacket, which coupled with his least fabric pilled black T shirt, didn’t really scream cocktail. Or so he assumed.

This is what he got for not saying no, not even to strangers on the internet. Well, a stranger whose name he did know now. Iyla Devar, the owner of the intimidating house he was walking up to, the host of tonight’s party and someone who was apparently loaning him a tie. This could have been so easily avoided by some white lie about working tonight but perhaps, some small part of him was curious.

He hadn’t been to a party in… well, a while, and the fact that Iyla was so happy to invite strangers either meant she was hoping to make new friends or didn’t have many people to invite. Zane could relate to both so he soldiered on, fixing the gifts in his hands before politely knocking on the door. He had no clue whether the ribbon decorated bottle of wine was any good, seeing as he had zero experience in that department, but it had been one of the more reasonably prized bottles in the fancier shelves so fingers crossed. The box of chocolate had been grabbed as an afterthought because everyone like chocolate… right?

Feeling like he was picking someone up for prom (probably, he hadn’t gone to any of his) as he waited for the door to open, Zane took one last glance up at the giant expanse of the house. Hoping Iyla didn’t live here on her own, thinking it would probably get lonely in a giant house all by themselves. Lost in thought as the door swung open, he startled, holding out the wine and chocolates almost like a peace offering. “Hi, uhm… Zane. Happy belated birthday?”

Iyla didn’t know how to feel. She’d missed her usual week (or let’s be real, month) -long of birthday events. None of her friends had so much as texted about it, let alone thrown something together for her. And to top it off, half the fucking town had their birthday this week. It was gearing up to be the worst birthday since the one immediately following her death.

But that wasn’t going to stop Iyla from having the time of her unlife. She wasn’t one to sit around and mope, she hadn’t been like that in decades. Moping didn’t bring you back to life, didn’t bring you the one person you truly cared for, didn’t bring the heads of those responsible on a platter. No, your own action did those things. They also brought complete strangers to her very nice home on World’s End Isle.

Iyla had selected a number of fine ties, ties she’d foreseen giving to Tomas whenever she found him. The fury hadn’t anticipated it taking quite this long, but he wouldn’t mind her lending them to an altruistic nurse. Slinging about five or so ties over the back of a plush armchair in her formal living room, Iyla went to answer the knock on the antique heart pine door, her heels a crisp staccato on the hardwood.

The door swung open, revealing Iyla in a Mochino gold and black embroidered bustier top with a flowing black satin skirt, her hair slicked back, hinting at the styles she used to wear in the 20s. Diamonds trailed from her earlobes and dark, smokey makeup surrounded eyes that now raked over the nurse in front of her. She smiled as he thrust out his offering, making no move to take it herself. “Oh, Zane, thank you so much. This means the world. Won’t you come in? I’ve laid out a few options for you just there,” the fury gestured to the armchair.

Zane’s carefully plastered on smile faltered for a second as he was ushered inside, gifts outstretched for a moment too long before accepting the invitation to come in. It still felt odd, the feeling of gentle force making sure he didn’t cross a threshold to a home subsiding with an invitation but everything about his current situation was odd enough to make that part low on his list of priorities to think about. Wondering if Iyla had spotted the wine label and immediately recognized it as something she hated, Zane wandered into the large living room, feeling like he should be taking his shoes off as to not disturb the immaculate set up.

Feeling that the best option was to go with the person that was clearly comfortable with this whole situation, Zane stepped up to the armchair and carefully put the presents on the plush seat. The ties all looked nice and he had no idea if it made a difference which one he chose to go with the jacket and very scuffed up dress shoes from another of the vampires. So he stalled, turning back to Iyla while tugging at his blazer sleeves for lack of something better to do with his now free hands. “You look really nice,” he offered, gaze focused on her stunning eyeshadow and light catching earrings. The bustier top was sure to get her attention tonight but the rest of the outfit he had no idea on - she definitely looked eye catching but he wasn’t one to judge on the whims of straight men. “Definitely a birthday outfit that demands attention.

Clearing his throat, still working through the overwhelming sensation of being in a house this nice, Zane continued talking because how else would he quiet his thoughts trying to trample over one another. “Hope this,” he gestured lamely to the blazer and dark jeans, “makes the cut. I haven’t owned a suit since I graduated high school.”

Iyla was no stranger to people being awestruck around her. Her clothing, her accessories, her homes, her face, it all brought forth a sense of unease from people she was around. Usually due to their uncontrollable envy, but it was all the same to her. The man hovered in her doorway for so long Iyla wondered if he’d been stuck there, doomed to awkwardly enter a nice home for eternity.

Iyla glanced quickly down at the gifts he’d brought along, wondering if the closest Tiffany’s had been too far of a drive. The wine seemed reasonably priced for a Bevmo. She’d regift that one for sure. Perhaps to that other birthday woman with the child who wanted her to have happy hour to celebrate. She scoffed to herself at the thought.

“Oh, this old thing?” Iyla feigned modesty, giving a quick twirl to show off the gown that may as well have been sewn together just for her. “I didn’t have time to go shopping for something new, so I supposed it has to do.” Of his own ensemble, however, the same could not be said. Iyla’s eyes narrowed at his jacket with too short arms, his scuffed shoes, as if she were solving a puzzle that didn’t ask to be solved. “Hmmm, I actually think I might have something for you! One moment -” Her heels clacked away to one of the many coat closets, this one specifically overflowing with coats and jackets she’d “borrowed” from ex lovers or Alan. Plucking out a deep navy number, she returned and immediately set about removing his old blazer.

“Lucky for you, I’m a fashionista of all kinds. And I tend to have an eye for sizes…Aha!” Iyla stepped back from her human dress up doll, beaming. “Amazing what a simple coat change can do!” She crossed her arms. “Now I don’t believe I have shoes in your size, but no one will be watching your feet when the rest of you looks so good!” Or when she was stealing the limelight.

“Why don’t you own a suit? Everyone needs one, at least one.” Iyla turned to touch up her lipstick in the mirror. “You can keep that, by the way. For the next situation where you need a fitting coat.”

Zane was resisting the urge to squirm under the heavy gaze currently raking over his clothes, feeling overly scrutinized. Any attempt to object to more generosity from the woman died on his lips as Iyla was already storming off, continuing to demand control of the situation with the simple act of her heels clicking. The navy jacket she returned with did look nice, definitely nicer than what he was wearing. Again, his words didn’t manage to leave his mouth, the ‘thank you’ you going silent when swift hands were pulling at his blazer.

Trying to keep up with the rapid movements, turning this way and that to allow himself to… well, be dressed in the jacket by this still-stranger, Zane almost could have laughed at the absurdity that the first person to ever remove his clothes like this was a woman. A very beautiful woman, sure, but not quite his type. It was over quickly, his old blazer discarded and the new one - as promised - fitting snugly.

Iyla looked happy and well, if choosing some stranger’s outfit gave her this much joy then Zane wasn’t going to ruin that moment. Especially not on her birthday. “Very lucky,” he finally agreed, hands brushing over the fabric. It felt nice, probably more expensive than the whole of his closet combined. “And you’re definitely good with sizes.” A genuine smile finally found its way onto his lips. Moving closer to the mirror when she did, Zane watched the woman deftly apply her lipstick, feeling a note of envy for magic of makeup.

“I don’t know, there’s never been an occasion for me to need a suit in the last years. At least none that I’ve attended. Going solo gets a bit much after a while, anyway.” Zane slid his hands into the pockets, somehow even softer than the outside material, and smiled gratefully at Iyla’s reflection. “Thank you. I’ll try to get myself into more situations fitting of such a nice coat.”

If Zane was uncomfortable with her dressing him, Iyla paid him no mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d dressed a man and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. So hopeless, the lot of them. She stood back, admiring her work in the reflection. Just the simple change out of a blazer and the entire ensemble worked. It wasn’t perfect, the scuffed shoes, the wrinkled shirt, the slightly too short pants, but the fury wasn’t sure she had the time or permission to rip off Zane’s pants.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Iyla murmured, realizing she’d been so focused on the suit she never even bothered to realize there was no face above said jacket, not in the mirror at least. Interesting. Her eyes flickered back to the real person beside her, her gaze now more scrupulous than ever.

“No occasions?” Not even a funeral suit? Iyla thought. “There’s always an occasion, even more so if you’re going solo. You never know when there’s someone out there to impress.” Suddenly this interaction seemed more interesting than her party, which was saying something. “If you ever need a date to a function, I will almost never say no,” she offered, knowing damn well if the event wasn’t up to her standards she would 100% say no. “Or does your work keep you from attending?” Or your non-reflection?

Fine, there had been occasions. Staff parties, hospital galas, birthdays. Going solo meant more than just showing up without a date, though. It was quite literal, showing up alone and shuffling around people he knew from work while they talked about their personal lives, which were complete mysteries to him. Zane knew a lot of it was his fault, a combination of lack of trying and anxiety that he wouldn’t fit in even if he did. It always seemed better to not go.

“I’m pretty rusty in the impressing department too. If my total lack of date clothing didn’t give it away,” he joked, turning away from his host to have another look at the ties. Now that he had an actual, nice piece of clothing on, the task of choosing seemed a bit less daunting. Zane settled on a nice blue one, a lighter color than the jacket he’d been given, a distant memory of someone mentioning that blue highlighted his eyes rearing its head. “Work. General lack of social standing. The fact that I don’t drink,” he rattled off, turning back to Iyla with the tie hanging limp around his neck. He wasn’t even going to attempt to make the knot and even if he had, something told him the fashion-forward woman would have fixed it afterwards, anyway.

“And that’s a really nice offer but if I were trying to… impress someone, bringing you might give the wrong impression.” It felt nice to get it out there, to prevent any fumbled comment of his from being taken as flirting. “Aside from the fact that you’re way out of my league, you’re also on the wrong… team?” It was hesitant, a part of him still always expecting push back to the realization. The smile that followed was hopeful in a way. Iyla was… strange. But definitely not boring and underneath the glamorous house and general disregard for most things, there was a hint of something nice. At least Zane wanted to believe that, feeling his new gift on his shoulders as a reminder.

Iyla stepped over to the array of gifts the reflectionless man had brought over. She attempted to hide her wrinkled nose at the wine’s brand, bringing it over to her silver bar cart anyway. It was the thought that counted, right? At least it was wine that might get him talking more. Did he know he was dead, like her? Did he even know there was no one looking back at him when he smiled at himself in the mirror? Iyla knew better than most how hard that transition was, from life to life after death. Her own stubbornness had made her what she was, and Iyla doubted that her relatively slow acceptance to her new fate had helped anything in that department.

“Well practice makes perfect, you know.” Iyla popped the cork with ease, setting the bottle down to let it breathe while she selected two crystal glasses, her hand pausing as he said he didn’t drink. “Ah, so a little less fun, but no less in need of socialization.” She put one of the glasses back and poured herself a hearty cupful. “I have tonic or sparkling water?” Iyla offered, ever the hostess, her fingers already reaching for a rocks glass that had seen World War 2.

Iyla nodded, a sly smile winding onto her face. “Ahhh, there it is. Is someone not comfortable in their own skin? Is that why you don’t go out to parties?” The fury had plenty of friends, many of them all over the spectrum. She, herself, didn’t like to be tied down to one gender. Perhaps being undead wasn’t his only hangup regarding hang outs.

Iyla would have blushed had blood still moved within her. She was always a sucker for compliments. “What a shame,” she purred, setting her wineglass down as she set about preparing the tie he selected. “For someone who claims not to be fashionable or wear suits, you have good taste.” She was, of course, referring to her being out of his league as well as the tie he chose. “This one brings out your eyes.”

It was definitely a change, the instant acceptance of him not drinking. The excuses had already started forming on his lips when the cork was popped but died just as quickly. If anything, it made his stance on the whole thing completely flip, eyeing the now full glass with curiosity. It wasn’t like Zane was staying sober for a reason, more so a force of habit and general distaste for the bitterness or sting of all alcohol. “I should at least try it since I brought it.”

Not that thought out but this whole evening felt very spur of the moment, anyway. Zane was wearing someone else’s clothes, in a house that made him feel a little bit like a movie star and there was something about the woman that felt slightly dangerous but not in the life threatening way. Wasn’t alcohol supposed to be a bit of an anxiolytic, anyway?

The questions that followed were slightly condescending in nature but they didn’t quite hit the spot of making him want to recoil like when the other members of the clan called him ‘the freshman’. It felt more teasing but not quite judgemental. More so just… the way Iyla seemed to be, from what little he was starting to learn about the woman. “I guess,” Zane admitted, chin tilting up as she worked on the tie. “Even though male nurse usually makes people assume correctly.” The smell of her perfume wafted into his nose, the scent nice. Classy. Fitting for the woman currently complimenting him, making him fluster and feel grateful for his inability to blush.

“Thanks,” he stuttered out, nervous hands running over the perfect knot of the tie. His smile was lopsided as Zane reached for the glass she’d poured him after the rash decision made earlier, delving deeper into the unthought out plan as he took a sip. He’d never had wine before and would now never know how it was supposed to taste, but the faint sweetness and irony aftertaste was definitely… pleasant. Clearing his throat, he glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. “We should get going, right? Guest of honor and everything.”

Iyla’s fingers lingered on the man’s tie, the whole impromptu evening feeling so familiar. She used to flirt and dress all her friends, men, women, gay, straight and everything in between. Of course, back in her prime things were much less accepted, but no less common. Her soirees were the talk of the town not only because they were lavish and second to none, but also because they were accepting.

“Ugh, you’d think we would have outgrown the idea that nurses and handmaids are meant to be feminine and weak, as if you don’t do more than half the doctors where you work, am I correct?” Iyla’s nose wrinkled, this time from the misogynistic way the world worked. Even in the 20s and 30s, Iyla never liked to succumb to the female stereotypes laid out before her. Socialite, sure. Kept housewife? Never.

Iyla sighed, downing the rest of her wine like a shot - it honestly tasted better that way - and snatched her purse off the coat rack. She glanced at Zane out of the corner of her eye, watching how he sipped at the wine he said he didn’t drink. Vaguely, she hoped she hadn’t helped him break some important act of sobriety, but the thought was quickly banished. What would it matter to her if he had? So long as he didn’t ruin the party. In fact, Iyla hoped he might loosen up a bit, maybe even dance with a cute boy or two. She smiled and snaked her arm through his.

“You’re right, we should be off.” Iyla nodded down at the glass in his hand. “If you enjoyed that, I have a bottle of Cristal in the car you can try. It’s vintage.” She wondered if he was as well, or if his undeath was shiny and new. “Now, let’s go make an entrance.”

The sensible part of his brain knew that one didn’t get drunk from two sips of wine, no matter their experience with alcohol. Even so, that was the feeling Zane had as the glamorous lady of the house led him outside to a sleek and shiny car, where the doors were opened for them by an elderly gentleman who addressed him as ‘sir.’ Not in the annoyed way that patients sometimes did when they were tired of waiting, calling it at his back as he tried to do five things at a time. No, it was respect. Granted, respect that radiated of Iyla and clearly seemed to affect everyone in her vicinity but the feeling was definitely a rush.

Cristal - a quite fancy champagne, Zane learned - was nice. It didn’t taste like much to his very picky tastebuds but the bubbles made it very pleasant to drink and toasting with Iyla in the back of a freaking town car was making it easy to pretend he was someone else for a moment. Someone who drank champagne, went to parties and knew most of the people there, was greeted by everyone he walked up to. The feeling of being that person overwhelmed whatever sense he usually claimed he had and the bottle was empty by the time they reached Iyla’s party. Who had drank more, Zane wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t really feeling anything so it was fine.

Just like when they’d left the house, Zane offered his arm to Iyla when she stepped out the car, finding himself to fit quite nicely into this role. With the way his companion looked, no one would really take notice of the pitfalls in his current outfit. If just for tonight, he could totally be chill and not overthink everything. The decorations inside were nice, the people dressed even nicer and it overwhelmed him for a second as he tried to remember the last time he’d been to an event. Despite the lack of practice, Zane had watched enough TV to know the next part his current role demanded of him. “Get you a drink?” he asked Iyla, already scanning the place for the bar.

Towncars and limos were so commonplace for Iyla, she’d forgotten the wonder they had over people. Feeling like a rockstar, feeling glamorous even if it was only by association, Iyla was always the provider of these feelings, and while in the past it made for shallow friendships, she never minded. Not to mention, Zane seemed much different from the twittering girls who usually clung to her sequined skirts and leather seats. Leonard drove them in style while Zane tried his first Cristal, not an event he was sure to forget. Even if the popular stuff didn’t taste all that much better than a Dom Perignon, the experience was one to remember.

Iyla, impressed with Zane’s manners as they exited the car, felt on top of the world. This was her playground, her native surroundings. A party, all for her. Not for all those other birthdays, just her, even if a few of them swung by for a drink. She took his arm, proud to be dangling from the altruistic and now well dressed Mr. Invisible Reflection, ready to begin the night’s festivities in earnest.

“Thank you, such a gentleman,” Iyla purred, intent on not fidgeting over the misplaced centerpieces or lack of ice sculpture she’d ordered last minute. How hard was it to carve an ice dancer in less than five hours? “I’ll take a vodka gimlet, make sure they use Rose’s Lime Juice.” Her eyes were already roaming over the crowd, a bit light for her taste, but it was still early enough. For a moment, she had a flash of that disastrous night, flames licking up the curtains, Tomas’ face disappearing behind a wall of fire.

Iyla cleared her throat and smiled. “I’ll just be a moment, have to make the rounds of course. Come and find me when you get those drinks, doll.”

Something flashed in Iyla’s eyes, barely visible in the room’s faint glow but it was there. Only for a second, her previous persona returning almost instantly. Zane wondered if she was worried about the party, wanting it to go well, but he didn’t ask. She was already moving on to other thoughts, whatever the fleeting one had been about, it was dismissed, and Zane decided to let her. His self assigned job tonight was making sure Iyla enjoyed her birthday. She probably didn’t need any help with that but as of right now, she was the only person he knew here, however little he did know.

Her drink was ordered with utmost care, the bartender giving a pleased nod at Zane when he made the special request. As if he knew anything about what he’d just ordered. The order was made for two drinks, if only so he had something to hold onto and better blend into the crowd, and then the mission of finding Iyla began. People were chatting happily all around, sipping various drinks and seeming to be having a generally good time. A brief thought, wondering just how many of these people Iyla actually knew. As he stood, thankful for the extra height in allowing him to better survey the crowd in the hopes of finding Iyla, a woman approached. She seemed tipsy but friendly.

“Ah, who’s the lucky lady getting a drink delivery?” she asked, hand unnecessarily running over his upper arm. The first thought was that he didn’t have a lucky lady but, in the weird twist of events that this evening was, Zane was indeed delivering drinks to a lady. Looking around for said lady, with no luck, he smiled sheepishly. “The host actually. I was on my way to find her, so-” His sentence was caught short as the woman scoffed, grabbing one of the drinks from his hand with not so much as a hint of hesitation. “Iyla? Why bother with her. Honestly.” Zane shifted uncomfortably, making one last attempt at spotting the woman currently being trash talked by this stranger.

This was Iyla’s element. Drinks flowing, music pumping, people dressed to the nines, all for her. This town wasn’t the most happening in the country, nor was it the highest class, but the Sky Bar offered at least a modicum of quality. She stopped chatting for just a moment, gazing out over the peaks, a faint glow emanating from behind the mountains. It was almost magical.

Iyla’s magic wasn’t beautiful like that. Sometimes it could be, but it was tinged with something darker, something bitter. Revenge may be sweet, and it certainly tasted that way to the fury, but it could be hollow too. Especially when it wasn’t her own. Coming back to the party at hand and wondering what was taking Zane so long, Iyla smiled and excused herself from a banal conversation, just in time to hear her name. Her name accompanied by the words ‘why bother with her’.

Fury rose within her, not an uncommon feeling but one she hadn’t thought her party would induce. Iyla stomped in Zane’s direction, her attention on the drunk woman beside him, the woman holding her drink and tarnishing her name. “Funny, I was about to say the same about you,” Iyla snarled, crossing her arms over her sequined bodice. “Apologies, but I don’t remember stating ‘Messy drunk bitches’ on the invitation.” Power rolled off her, and even though she couldn’t do anything with it, not until someone asked her to, Iyla knew it was felt. She might not be able to use her magic, but she could still use one thing.

Iyla slapped the drink upward so quickly the vodka missed the woman’s face entirely, though the martini glass didn’t. Shards of glass sprinkled her cakey foundation, small droplets of blood blossoming while fresh tears started. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy sometimes!” Iyla feigned innocence, snapping for a waitress to come and call a med kit. “Here, Iris will get you all fixed up, but I do think you should grab a cab home…you don’t want to bleed all over the carpet.” She turned to her date who wasn’t a date but also was. “Let’s go get another drink while Messy Martha here gets fixed up.”

Iyla’s appearance was a tangible relief, loosening the knot in his chest because she could definitely take charge of this situation and get Zane out of it. There was no way she had the same response as him to awkward scenarios as these, which usually ended way too close to the ‘freeze’ spectrum of stress response. This instant relief was very short lived however as another feeling washed over him, seeming to resonate off his non-date for the evening. She was angry in a way he had somehow assumed someone as composed as Iyla couldn’t get. His longing to end this situation finally overpowered the awkward politeness but it was too late.

There was blood and crying and a small commotion, controlled completely by the woman Zane was now realized he didn’t really know at all. Instinct told him to help the injured woman but what he assumed was the champagne from before seemed to be settling in, making his head feel like it was filled with cotton. Which made it really hard not to focus on how good the blood smelled, even through the stinging smell of vodka. So he let Iyla usher him away from the scene towards the bar where it felt safer, the piercing look that had been in his companion’s eyes seconds before the glass exploded still reeling in Zane’s head.

The second glass he’d gotten for himself, mostly as a prop, was raised to his lips for a lack of something better to do as Zane tried to get a hang on what had just happened. Iyla ordered her drink and he watched her curiously. She was back to the persona he’d witnessed for most of the evening, seeming completely unfazed by the whole thing. “I’m sorry about your drink,” he finally said dumbly, not sure where else to begin. “She sort of just… took it.” A pause. “Are you… okay?” Asking Iyla that and not the woman who was being escorted out with napkins pressed to her face was odd but it seemed the safest question to ask at this moment.

A flurry of waitresses and bar staff surrounded Martha, a woman who for some reason thought she was always invited to Iyla’s parties even though she always made a scene. Someone had screamed and there were hushed whispers, wondering what happened, but just like any other party, it dissipated quickly. There were other, more fun, events happening, and one case of a spilled drink or a few flecks of blood wasn’t going to keep a crowd down for long.

Iyla ordered them another pair of drinks, this time taking hers directly from the bartender. She raised it to her lips, finally tasting the perfectly crafted cocktail, one her mother had taught her how to make to perfection but so many got wrong. “Ugh, I’m sorry you had to see that. I know it wasn’t your fault, that bitch always thinks she can just take anything that’s mine. Drinks, men, women, shoes…” Iyla settled against the bar, leaning her elbow on the surprisingly unsticky surface and looked up at Zane. Poor thing looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Iyla’s voice went from annoyed to sincere in a matter of seconds. “Oh, and I’m sorry about the blood. Was that hard for you? Or if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too. We can just drink and dance and stargaze.”

Zane drank when she did, knowing that alcohol for worry and stress wasn’t recommended for a reason but this evening was already a mess so he let the sour-sweet taste of the drink soothe him. It seemed that Iyla had a long standing feud with the woman and even though he couldn’t say he agreed with the host’s methods, it was definitely rude to show up to a birthday, drunk, and start berating the birthday girl to anyone willing to listen. His shock over the whole situation was fading, whether under the comfortable blanket of alcohol or because he felt a bit sorry for Iyla having an unwanted guest, and Zane found that he much preferred the sincere version of Iyla.

“The blood…?” Had she noticed him staring? His eyes hadn’t changed, had they? No, this was way too calm of a response to anything like that. She was just being kind. “Oh, no! I mean, I see way more than that at work, just… caught me by surprise is all.” It was easy to forget that Iyla had verbally and physically hurt a woman, literally moments ago, when she was being kind and almost genuine now. And trying to enjoy this evening in the way they’d been having fun before in the town car, letting her dote over his tie and chuckle at how much Zane liked the champagne, seemed much more appealing than the evening being ruined by this. Ruin the risk of friendship.

“I have two left feet but if you’re willing to risk it, me dancing can definitely be your worst birthday present this year.”

“Yes, the blood.” And the no reflection. Iyla was constantly grateful she hadn’t been made into a vampire, losing her ability to see herself in the mirror, plus the taste of blood…the though had her wrinkling her nose. To anyone else, it must have come off as someone who simply couldn’t handle the sight of blood. “Mhm…” She placated, her eyes narrowing just a bit. A newbie, then, she decided. Most older vampires she knew wore it proudly, once someone was in the know. But perhaps that was just the crowd she ran in. No point in pretended we aren’t what we are, she thought. Might as well embrace it.

Iyla smiled at her date for the evening. Sexual attraction or not, Zane here was her lovely ken doll for the evening, a perfectly wonderful plaything that she wanted to drag out of whatever shell he was hiding in. She downed the rest of her drink, all the alcohol she’d ingested finally making its way to her brian. Curses of being undead. “Well then let’s forget that ugliness, and cut a rug.” Iyla held out her arm, waiting for Zane to be the gentleman and lead her out to the floor. “I can think of no better present.” And for once, for one inexplicable moment, she actually meant it.

#fangs & fury #w: zane #@rn-zane #wickedswriting #alcohol tw #blood tw #bullying tw

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moodyvalentinestories · 10 months

Text

Direction – Thirty-One | Hunt x HWU MC (Danielle)

Summary: Danielle and Hunt continue their conversation.

Words: 700+

Notes: He he he, I’m back! Hello hello hello! Not dead! Still here, still writing. ‘Sup? P.S. Working on the next part already, so hopefully you won’t have to wait nine months until the story continues. Oopsie.

❥ Previous Chapter: Thirty ❥ Moodyvalentine’s Masterlist

There was a knock on the door, and Danielle immediately assumed it was Chris, who was checking in on them to see whether they were both still alive. When he opened the door, however, Chris had a rather grim expression on his face. “We’ve got a problem. And by we, I mean you guys.”

Just then, Hunt’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and Danielle could catch a glimpse of his screen just long enough to see the caller ID – Priya Singh. Uh-oh. That could not be good news.

Hunt told her to stay quiet and picked up. Danielle couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but she was pretty sure she could make out the words disgusting and bastard.

Priya hadn’t called his personal number in several years, and the fact that she was calling now could only mean one thing: something horrible had happened, and Thomas was certain he knew what. Very reluctantly, he picked up the phone, and was immediately greeted by a slew of insults.

“Thomas, you disgusting bastard. Have you lost your bloody mind? You can’t be that stupid, you—”

“Priya,” he interrupted her, not willing to subject himself to this much longer. “Could you perhaps tell me why you are insulting me this time?”

As if he didn’t already know. It must have leaked. Chris coming in, telling them they had a problem, and now this? The photos that he was sure must have been taken of their kiss earlier that day were out there now. He knew they were.

And, still, when Priya confirmed just that, he was shocked. “You have to ask? You’re fucking a student, Thomas.”

“Former student, first of all,” Thomas said, then quickly added, “And I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Oh, sure you aren’t. How long has this been going on? Centaurus Lost? Earlier, even? The photo from Sundance? She’s a child, Thomas!”

Danielle must have heard that last sentence, which wasn’t surprising since Priya had practically shouted it, and chimed in. “I’m twenty-six, thank you very much. Most definitely not a child.” Thomas glared at her, which had the desired effect of her shutting her mouth. She was not helping the situation.

“She’s with you right now?! Are you-- oh, God, I hope you’re wearing clothes. Please tell me you’re not--”

This time, it wasn’t Danielle who said something, but Chris, who very unhelpfully said, “Nope, I’m here, too. Nothing shady going on.”

Thomas sighed and put the phone on speaker. If everyone was going to join the conversation, either way, he might as well.

“Oh, great, the other boyfriend’s here, too,” Priya groaned.

“Hey!” Danielle exclaimed. “Neither of them is my boyfriend, okay? Now, can someone please tell us what exactly we’re dealing with here?”

“Does nobody here have Google alerts for their name set up? Check TMZ, or any other gossip site for that matter,” Priya said exasperatedly. “Thomas, I’ve called a board meeting to see what we’re going to do about this. Expect an invitation to an official hearing soon.”

Thomas gasped. He knew she was far from a friend these days, but he would not have expected her to be so quick to judge. “Priya, nothing happened when she was a student. This is none of your—”

“I’ll be in touch,” she interrupted him, then promptly hung up.

Thomas buried his head in his hands and let out a long sigh. His life, his career, everything was over. And it was all because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He knew, logically, it wasn’t Danielle’s fault. He knew he shouldn’t be mad at her – and he wasn’t, he was mad at everything right now – but despite all the talking, and the mutual understanding that they would handle this together, the reality of it was a different beast entirely.

“Thomas?” she ventured, lightly touching his arm. He flinched, and she immediately pulled her hand away.

He took a deep breath, then told her, as calmly as he could, “I’m sorry, I need-- I need some time. Please, I--”

Danielle looked quite unhappy with that answer, but she nodded. “I understand. It’s okay, I’ll… I’ll be just across the hall in case you need to find me.”

Tags (let me know if you wish to be removed from this list because it’s also 9 months old lol):

@trappedinfanfiction @oneemofungirl @alleksa16 @hopelessromantic1352 @silversparrow1112 @alj4890 @lilyoffandoms

#hwu hunt #hwu #professor hunt #danielle #hollywood u #hollywood u: rising stars #playchoices

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queenharumiura · 8 months

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Five Smiles - Gokudera

Taken from meme: [x] ||Accepting||

Prompt: [ FIVE SMILES ] send for five times one muse makes the other smile and the one time they share a smile.

[1]

She’s so mad. She got tricked by one of the neighborhood kids who liked to pull pranks on people every now and again. What he did was throw something up a tree and then bring out a ladder. Knowing that Haru would’ve been worried about a kid going up a tree with a ladder, she volunteered to go up herself. Tell her WHY the brat decided to wait until she climbed into the tree, grabbed the ball, and then he took the ladder away? Sure, she wouldn’t die if she fell from this height, but it would hurt. She can’t risk hurting herself when she’s still doing gymnastics.

That’s when she hears a short chortle of a laugh. Just her luck. “Don’t laugh. No, I see that smile. Stop it! Don’t even look at me!” Haru rages at the Storm Guardian who is still very much amused by the situation. Like a cat, Haru is hissing under her breath. “That BETTER not be your phone I see. You BETTER not be taking a pi- Kyaa!” She almost loses her balance from her raging at him and she clutches onto the tree for dear life. “Waaaaah Haru is a good person but she’s only being bullied todayyyyy.”

[2]

“Uri? Hahi! So this little one is yours? She came into the kitchen asking for a snack.” Haru is giving the little feline scritches behind her ear. How could one deny pampering such a cute little thing? “Do you need her back right now?” There is a bit of disappointment in her tone that she couldn’t disguise. One, Haru just loved small and cute things in general, but after being blasted into the future for no apparent reason, there was a lot of stress building up. Petting a cute cat was an excellent way to relieve some of her anxious feelings. “That’s great, how about another treat, Uri?” The epidemy of a sunshine smile.

[3]

“Oh, Gokudera, at my school’s school festival they apparently had a UMA booth, and they were selling little things at their booth.” Haru rummages through her bag looking for the item. Knowing that he liked UMA’s, she had to buy something from the booth for him. “It’s a cute little Nessy magnet. I think someone sculpted it and then painted glaze on top.” That’s a lot of effort that went into the craftsmanship of the magnet. She sure hopes that they had decent business so they weren’t operating at a net loss. “It’s cute, isn’t it? I thought of you when I saw it, so I bought it for you.”

[4]

“Just a random flower you found, huh?” Haru receives the flower and smells it. “No real meaning behind it, you say. Hmmmmm~” You know her name means ‘Spring,’ don’t you? You’d be wrong to think that she didn’t study Hanakotoba (The Japanese form of flower language). She may have also dabbled in other flower languages as well, if not only because a good number of her acquaintances are from Europe. She smiles softly, “Hai hai, Haru won’t read too much into it. It’s a coincidence, surely.”

[5]

“Hahi? Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring.” She’s always noticed his eyes were pretty, but in the natural sunlight, they looked brighter, and it made them look all the more striking. “You know, you have really pretty eyes, I can get lost just staring into them.” Hm? Who said girls can’t say cheesy lines too? Haru can do whatever she wants, she’ll have you know. Look at his eyes, will you claim that you don’t find them very pretty? She’ll wait. She gasps, “You should smile like that more often too. It’s a very nice smile.” Haru was never embarrassed to give out compliments to others.

“Ah, but not around other girls. Just me.” She is a firm believer of barriers. “I don’t need any more competition.” Hmph. You think she hasn’t heard about your fanclub? She has, and it does bother her, yes.

[-]

Walking side by side, Haru was humming a happy tune when someone comes up to her. “Oh, Obaa-san! Ojii-san! Hello!” She greets the loving elderly couple with a pleasant smile. “Is this the young man we talked about the last time?” Haru links her arm around Gokudera’s, “That’s right, this is my boyfriend. Gokudera, they’re a lovely couple that lives a few doors down from me. They’re very nice people.” The elderly couple always spent so much time together, and they were obviously still very much in love. It was really endearing to see. Couple-goals, really. To grow old together and still be very in love with each other.

“Aren’t they a cute pair, dear?” “Well, Haru certainly has been happier lately. I can see why. You’re good together.” Though they weren’t her actual grandparents, she did see them as some. They’d watched her grow up from the time she was born until now, and they would always be so happy to see her out and about. When she was young, she would go and talk to them about her day, or proudly boast about something she learned. So she was happy to show off her boyfriend to them and get their blessing. “Thank you~”

#Xcedia #Meme answered #Answered ask #Thanks for the ask!#Haru speaks #((Muse; Gokudera))#((Phew another one down! It's a slow process but i'm getting around to em all!))

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malfoysqueen54 · 2 years

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Starting Requests

I have never done a request before so I try to generate everything for this page. I hope, you guys can be patient if you do know about or do requests I may forget a few things. I prefer smut and/or angst. I am not the greatest at fluff fair warning but I will try if you have an idea.

*I would hope to stick to Angst and Smut- I will answer everyone in order. Hopefully if Tumblr gives them all to me. Just send me and ask. With your numbers and your man.

I Write For:

SOA

Jax

Chibs

Gemma

Tig

MARVEL

Steve Rogers/ Captain America

BuckyBarnes/WinterSoldier

Clint Barton/Hawkeye

Tony Stark/Ironman

Stephan Strange/Doctor Strange

Yelena Boliva/ White Widow

Natasha Romanoff /Black Widow

Loki/God of MIscheif

HOBBIT/LOTR

Thranduil

Thorin

Haldir

Eomer

STAR WARS

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Poe Dameron

-LLoyd Hansen- The Gray Man

Six-The Gray Man

Ransom Drysdale-Knives Out

-Killian Jones- OUAT

-Connor & Murphy McManus- Boondock Saints

-Han -Fast & Furious

-Daryl Dixon- Walking Dead

-Negan-Walking Dead

-Dean Winchester- Supernatural

-Sam Winchester-Supernatural

-Benny Lafontaine-Supernatural

-Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw- Top Gun:Maverick

-Jake “Hangman” Seresin- Top Gun: Maverick

-Lance Tucker- The Bronze

-Jake Jensen- The Losers

“ let go of me. ”

“ you’re gonna have to make me. ”

“ please don’t do this. ”

“ don’t make me do this. ”

“ you have no idea what i’m capable of. ”

“ don’t you dare. ”

“ i wouldn’t do that if i were you. ”

“ i can’t do this. ”

“ i won’t let you do this. ”

“ i’m not gonna let that happen. ”

“ go! get out of here! run! ”

“ i’m not what you think i am. ”

“ don’t get in my way. ”

“ revenge won’t bring peace for you. ”

“ you always knew this would happen, didn’t you? ”

“ what’s going on in that head of yours? ”

“ you do not turn against your family. ”

“ i will kill you if i have to. ”

“ we need you. ”

“ it’s okay. i got this. ”

“ you were chosen for a reason. ”

“ get up. ”

“ it’s too late. ”

“ you can’t do this. ”

“ i thought i might find you here. ”

“ you’ve never had to fight me. ”

“ it’s over. ”

“ it’s over. we won/lost. ”

“ it’s over. you lost. ”

“ you can’t protect any of them. ”

“ stay here! ”

“ give me your hand. ”

“ i can’t help you. ”

“ you can’t help me! ”

“ i can’t do this anymore… ”

“ i can’t do this alone… “

“ i can’t do this without you. “

“ nothing is worth losing you. “

“ i can’t lose you! not again! “

“ i don’t wanna lose you! “

“ i love you… “

“ i never should’ve dragged you into this. “

“ you’re not alone, [NAME]… you never were. “

“ if something happened to you… that would be because of me. and i can’t have that. “

“ …did you know about this? “

“ this is all my fault… “

“ i/we/you lost… “

“ you won’t win. “

“ this path you’re on… it’s gonna get you killed. you know that, though; don’t you? “

“ i can’t stop. “

“ you would tell me if something was wrong. wouldn’t you? “

“ it’s like you’re not really here; even when you are. “

“ don’t you get it?! if anything happens to you, i… i don’t know what i’d do! “

“ you have no idea how important you are to me, and i’m tired of waiting for you to figure it out, and i sure as hell won’t wait to announce it over your reckless ass’ grave! “

“ no! i’m not leaving without you! “

“ i can’t do this anymore… “

“ you don’t even know me. “

“ what have you done?! “

“ you’re shaking… “

“ i’ve… made some mistakes. “

“ you are nothing to me. “

“ you were never nothing to me… “

“ stop it. enough of this self-sacrificing bullshit! stop acting like you have nobody who loves you! you have me! so no! you don’t get to be a martyr. not today! we can figure out a different plan… “

“ i would’ve done anything for you… “

“ i’d risk everything and anything for you. “

“ i’m not a good person. “

“ please don’t look at me like that… “

“ i believed in you! “

“ we can’t lose… “

“ what?! what am i supposed to do?! please! tell me, what the hell am i supposed to do?! “

“ please, just go… i’m not the kind of person anyone needs to be around right now. “

“ what happened to you? huh? what happened to you to make you this way? “

“ they’re coming for you. right? that’s why you’re pushing me away like an idiot? because you don’t want me getting hurt? “

“ nothing’s going to be as good as it was before. “

“ you lied to me! “

“ i didn’t mean for any of this to happen! “

“ i can’t trust you anymore… “

“ i know it’s selfish. god knows, ever since we met, i’ve been the reason behind every threat and danger that’s come your way. but… i honestly can’t say that i’d change a second of it. “

“ it’s been an honour knowing you. “

“ there’s nobody else i can turn to. only you. “

“ i don’t trust anybody else. not the way i trust you. “

“ we have no choice… “

“ why?! why are you helping me?! “

“ it’s too late. there’s nothing more we can do… “

“ please don’t go… don’t leave me. “

“ you are everything to me. okay? EVERYTHING. i can’t lose you… “

“ you deserve better than this… better than me… “

“ i thought i could give you a better life. instead, i’m the reason it’s gotten worse… i’m so sorry. “

&. 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( we love angst on this blog, what can we say. here’s some more dialogue prompts for you. a warning for potentially triggering themes below. )

❛ everything you touch, you ruin. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ you can’t make me disappear. ❜

❛ memories are only there to make you bleed. ❜

❛ i don’t need your permission. ❜

❛ don’t shut me out like this. ❜

❛ the less you know, the better. ❜

❛ i won’t stop killing until you kill me. ❜

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ you think i felt something for you? you’ve forgotten what i am. ❜

❛ the last time we talked, didn’t you say you wanted to kill me? ❜

❛ i felt something loosen in me that shouldn’t have been loosened. ❜

❛ pull yourself together. we have work to do. ❜

❛ stay back, i have a demon inside of me. ❜

❛ let me get closer, i have a hell inside of me where your demon can live. ❜

❛ people like that don’t deserve to live. ❜

❛ just do what you’re told. like you always do. ❜

❛ why do you have to make everyone hate you? ❜

❛ it’s better that you don’t get involved. ❜

❛ i’d do anything to make you stay. ❜

❛ who cares if it bleeds. ❜

❛ is this what you think love is? ❜

❛ just breathe through it. it gets easier. ❜

❛ don’t pretend that you cared about me. ❜

❛ i’m starting to think you like wasting my time. ❜

❛ we wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me. ❜

❛ i will never, ever, give you a moment’s peace. ❜

❛ the world doesn’t hate us. but it doesn’t love us either. ❜

❛ it hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time. ❜

❛ a darkness with voices is better than a silent void. ❜

❛ it’s safer to be feared, than loved. ❜

❛ am i not good enough for you? ❜

❛ a burnt child loves the fire. ❜

❛ i’m tired of dying. ❜

❛ what if you hurt because it feels good? ❜

❛ don’t try to fix me, i’m not broken. ❜

❛ if you want me to die, you can just say so. ❜

❛ you don’t have to be afraid of who you are. ❜

❛ that line disappears once you cross it. ❜

❛ how can i believe you after all you’ve done? ❜

❛ i won’t let you forget about me. ❜

❛ the person you once knew me as, died. ❜

❛ are you going to leave me again? ❜

❛ i have nothing i could offer you. ❜

❛ no one is going to save you. no one can. ❜

❛ maybe you’re / i’m already dead. ❜

❛ you have blood on your hands. ❜

❛ what, can’t take a punch? ❜

❛ i’m your mind giving you someone to talk to. ❜

❛ you have to step out of this darkness and let them see you for who you are, like i have. ❜

I might add more prompts if this is successful. If you guys want more.

I am going to tag my girls in this @thorne93 @buckysforeverprincess @magellan-88 @pegasusdragontiger @sidepartskinnyjeans @vulgar-display-of-escapism @yarnforbrains @lady-writes-flanagan @lady-writes20

#Angels Requests #requests

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