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love-and-monsters · 3 years

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Alaris the Naga

Agender naga X GN reader, 6872 words.

You need a date for your workplace party, but the only person you can find is your roommate, a somewhat shy naga. Well, surely faking a relationship with them won't spark anything. Right?

You fixed your hair, carefully combing the short strands into some vague approximation of neatness. A cowlick poked up at the back of your head. You fiddled with it again and again, trying to drive it back down.

“Here. Let me.” The voice that came from behind you was soft, almost melodic, the sort of voice you would expect from someone who used their voice to make a living. Your housemate placed their hands on either side of your head, tilting it slightly. The touch made something in your chest stutter.

“Did you sleep on your hair funny?” they asked. Their voice was perfectly casual as they snagged a spray bottle from the sink and wetted your hair. Their voice was always infuriatingly casual when they touched you. Did they have to work as hard to keep it steady as you did?

“Something like that,” you said. Fortunately, you’d had enough practice, so your voice came out casual and unconcerned. “I fell asleep on my desk.” Their fingers smoothed your hair back into alignment. You weren’t sure whether that shiver that worked its way down your spine was due to the cold water dripping down your scalp or due to their touch alone.

They tutted. “Never mind your hair, you’re going to wreck your back sleeping like that! Your bed’s only three steps away from your desk. Surely you can make it there before you pass out.”

Despite the teasing words, you could detect the genuine concern that undergirded their voice. “I wasn’t intending to pass out. It was just that there was a lot of work and I-”

They sighed, somehow making it loud enough to overcome your words. “I keep telling you to take a break from all that! Good lord, you spend ten hours a day at the office and then you bring it all home with you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes. “We can’t all be our own boss, Alaris.”

“Hey, it’s not all fun and games, managing my own job. You know how hard it is to get deadlines done? I know the guy who sets them, and they’re full of shit.” Alaris petted the back of your head a couple more times. Was it to smooth down your hair some more? Just to touch you? A casual action with utterly no hidden motives that you were overthinking? Who could say.

“Look, in a couple of weeks, we’ll be done and we’ll have a big ‘end-of-season’ party, and then we’ll all be good.”

“I hope you’ll actually take some time off after that,” Alaris sighed. The took you by the shoulders and turned you to face them. Their nails were long, scratching slightly at your arms. You could feel the cool sensation of their scales even through your dress shirt. “Take a break. I’m always worried I’ll go into your room and find you on the ground, your body finally having given out under the strain.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “I get a full three hours a night. You don’t need to worry.”

Alaris huffed and waved their hand at you. “Just take care of yourself. Maybe once this is all over you can actually make the time to be a guest on my podcast.”

Their podcast was massively popular online, and the main source of their income. There was often some teasing that they could sit at home in their pajamas all day, chatting to a microphone, and make pretty much the same amount of money you did. Then again, you weren’t entirely sure you wouldn’t go insane if you had the same lifestyle, so you weren’t all that jealous.

“We’ll see,” you said. “I really do have to go, though. I’ll see you later.”

They waved and you snagged your work laptop before heading out the door. It was a bit of a jog to make it to the bus stop.

As soon as you sat down, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You sighed, fishing it out, but instead of an impatient text from your boss, there was a message from Alaris on screen.

A: You forgot to eat breakfast! ☹

A: Do you want me to bring you something? I can swing by your work real quick.

You smiled at their sweetness. They were always ready to do some kind thing for you.

Y: Don’t bother. They’ll probably have granola bars in the break room or something. But thank you.

A: Are you sure? A granola bar isn’t exactly a filling breakfast.

Y: I don’t want to take up your time.

A: I work from home, remember? I can do whatever I want.

Y: Are you using me as a way to procrastinate?

A: Busted. But I can still bring you something?

Y: No. Get your work done.

A: ☹

The texting conversation took up enough of your commute so by the time you received the last text, you were ready to disembark. You walked inside the office, giving a quick wave to your coworkers, and sat down at your desk.

As it turned out, you didn’t get the opportunity to eat anything once you were at work, because you were immediately drowned in a tidal wave of work. When you finally surfaced, it was nearly five hours later, and your stomach was growling wildly for something to eat.

Exhausted and bleary-eyed, you stumbled into the tiny break room and grabbed a granola bar at random. You took a bite and grimaced. Raisins. Gross.

One of your coworkers, a tall satyr with a tidal wave of curly hair, stepped into the room. “Hey, Sadie,” you said, rubbing a hand over your head. “How are you doing?”

“Tired. Just like everyone else.” She slumped into the seat across from you. “I’ve been trying to plow my way through the work I’ve got so I can get out early and actually change into something nice for my date.”

You stared at her. “You decided to go on a date now? Why would you do that?”

Sadie gave you a strange look. “I’ve got to find someone to go to the end-of-season party with me.”

You almost choked on your granola bar. “You need a date for that?”

Sadie pulled a face. “I mean, you don’t need one, strictly speaking. But a bunch of people started talking about bringing one and it turned into this whole thing, so now I feel like I should bring one. You know, I don’t want to look like the only person who’s not dating.”

“How does anyone have time to date right now?” you asked. Sadie shrugged.

“I dunno. A lot of people are married, apparently. So. I’m going to get a date. I suggest you get one as well. It’ll look good for office politics and all that. And also, you won’t look like a loser who can’t get a date.”

“It’s not that I can’t get a date,” you huffed into your cup of gross break room coffee. “It’s that I’m just not trying.”

“Yeah, sure, everyone will buy that,” Sadie said. “Like I said, you don’t need one. But it’ll probably look good. It makes you look promotable, and not like a loser.” She caught sight of your expression. “Hey, look, I’m not fond of it either. Maybe you can just get someone to come for the night? Get an escort or something.” She stood and clopped out of the room, her hooves hitting on the linoleum floor.

You groaned and leaned over the break room table. Figured. Now you needed to juggle work with finding someone to go to an office party with. You briefly considered just not going, but your boss took these sort of events seriously, for reasons far beyond your comprehension. If going with a date was expected, then you were going to go with a date. You had not put in hours and hours of work just to not get promoted.

It was well past seven when you dragged yourself home. Alaris was bent over the kitchen table, fiddling with their laptop. They waved their tail at you in greeting, not looking up from their work. “Welcome back.”

You made a noise somewhere between a groan and a grunt in response. Alaris lifted their head. “Bad day?” they asked.

“Something like that.” You put your laptop back on its charger and slouched over to the table.

“I saved you some dinner,” Alaris said. “I can heat it up for you, if you want?”

“Thank you,” you said. “Alaris, you’re an angel.”

They puffed up their chest with pride as they slithered across the kitchen. “I’m just helping out. I mean, it’s not much more effort to cook for two, and I know how hard you’ve been working.”

“I promise, I’ll get you something nice with the bonus check I’ll get when this is all over,” you said without lifting your head from the table. There was a heavy thump that suggested Alaris was wagging their tail in pleasure.

“You don’t have to. Really, I’m just trying to be a good housemate.” There was a hum as the microwave started up. “Do you want to talk about your day at work?”

“Ugh.” You lifted your head and thumped it against the table.

Alaris slithered back over to you. “That bad, huh?”

“I mean, the work itself wasn’t bad. It was pretty much the same as normal.” You lifted your head. Alaris was looking down at you with obvious concern. They had always been particularly emotive- it was that sort of openness and charm that made them so popular.

“Then did something happen with your coworkers?” they probed. You grimaced. “Is that a yes?”

“You know, for someone who deliberately picked a job where you have no coworkers, you seem awfully interested in mine,” you grumbled. Alaris shrugged.

“Work drama is at least three times more fun when you’re not involved in it. Why do you think I keep you around? Perfect story fodder.” Alaris winked and you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better to talk about it? I can at least help you come up with solutions.”

“I’m pretty sure no one can help me,” you grumbled. “Sadie told me today that- well you know that office party?”

“The end-of-season party,” Alaris said. “I’m familiar.”

“Well, apparently, a bunch of people are bringing dates, so now the whole thing is basically a couples party. And my boss loves that sort of stuff, so it won’t look great if I don’t show up with anyone.” The microwave beeped behind you. Alaris ignored it. “So, basically, I need to find a date in the next two weeks while not falling behind on all my work. Which is basically impossible.”

“You’re looking for a date?” Alaris asked. There was something weird, almost strangled in their voice. You looked at them, but their expression was carefully blank.

“I guess. Not that I have the time or the energy for it.”

Alaris shifted, scratching their nails across the table. “I could, er. Try to set you up with someone? Possibly? I have a couple friends who live close by. They might be willing to help?”

You pulled a face. “Well, see, that’s the other problem. I don’t really want to go to the party with a stranger. We’re supposed to act like a couple, aren’t we? I don’t feel like I could do that with someone I don’t know.”

Alaris made a noise of amusement. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’”

“I’m not begging yet,” you said. “You’ll know when I’m begging.”

Alaris smiled and shook their head. “Sure. Make sure to eat your dinner before it gets cold again. I’m going to finish editing the next episode.” They settled back in at their spot at the table and slid their headphones on over their ears. You stood up and fetched your dinner from the microwave. It was good, as per usual. Along with their other talents, Alaris was a good chef, and they made sure you had something good to eat at all times. In terms of housemates, they were definitely the best one you’d ever had.

After you finished eating, you went back to your room and kept working on your work. At nearly midnight, Alaris knocked on your doorframe. “Hey. Are you going to bed anytime soon?”

“Soon,” you said, barely looking up from your laptop. Alaris made a soft noise of disbelief in their throat. “I’ll go to bed before three.”

“Go to bed now!” Alaris flicked the lights off. You groaned and hunched closer to your computer. “You’re not supposed to look at a computer screen with the lights off!”

“Then turn the lights back on!” you called back.

“Go to sleep!” Alaris slithered into the room and draped a blanket over your shoulders. “Go to bed. Your work will still be there in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about,” you groused. But the blanket on your shoulders felt irresistibly heavy and the weight went right to your eyelids. They drooped so much that you could barely see the screen. You yawned so widely your jaw cracked.

“Come on. To bed with you,” Alaris said. They took you by your shoulders, guided your out of your desk chair, and nudged you over to your bed. The feeling of their touch on you was comforting. A vague idea tickled at the back of your mind, but you were too tired to chase it down and interrogate it. “Get some sleep,” Alaris said. Their voice was far away. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

As soon as your head hit your pillow, you were out like a light.

You woke with your head fuzzed and confused. Somehow, getting enough sleep had made you even more tired than staying up the whole night would have. Mumbling curses against Alaris, you struggled through as much work as you could manage before you needed to leave. Stumbling into the kitchen, you found a bagel suddenly thrust into your front.

“Eat this on the way to work,” Alaris said. They looked stern, but also concerned in equal measure. “And you have a good lunch, right?”

“You don’t need to fuss over me,” you said. “I’m not a child.”

“I’ll stop fussing when you learn to take care of yourself properly,” Alaris said. That thought from last night started to tickle at your brain again. It was still tiny, a little whisper of a thought, but it was stronger. You pulled at it, trying to turn it into something concrete. Before you could, Alaris nudged you toward the door. “Go on. You’ll be late for the bus if you don’t go soon.”

“Right.” You smoothed down the front of your shirt. “I’ll see you later.”

Alaris waved as you headed out the door. Even as you headed toward the bus, you kept chasing after that little thought that was somehow escaping your full attention. It felt important. What was it?

A few hours later, you were slumped over the break room table, Sadie looking at you sympathetically. “Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

“I got sleep,” you said. Sadie snorted.

“Look, man, you gotta go to bed at a good time. If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything,” she said. You shoved your head up with a groan.

“I actually went to sleep at a reasonable time last night. Alaris practically bullied me into it. But I think I felt worse than ever when I woke up.” You muffled a yawn into your hand and slurped down some coffee so thick and strong it was practically pudding.

“Oh, yeah, that happens. Your body gets used to not getting enough sleep, so when you actually manage to get a good night’s sleep, it freaks out and decides it wants to catch up all at once. Trust me, I dealt with that a lot in college. Just down a lot of coffee and you’ll be fine.” Sadie took a sip from her own mug. “Alaris is your roommate, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been living together for… I dunno. A while. It’s a good thing we’ve got going. They’re willing to deal with a lot of my shit, so. I like it.”

Sadie nodded, giving a delicate snort. “Sounds like they’re better than my last three boyfriends put together.”

That thought that had been tickling around in the back of your mind shoved itself forward at full force. You blinked a few times, startled. “Wait. Say that again?”

Sadie narrowed her eyes at you in confusion. “Uh, I said Alaris seems better than my last three boyfriends? They’re, like. Taking care of you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably think you were a couple.”

“Cool,” you said. The thought was demanding your full attention. It would work, wouldn’t it? As long as alaris agreed, you couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work. “Thanks for the talk. I’m gonna get back to work.” You left the break room without waiting for an answer, leaving Sadie frowning at your back.

As it turned out, you got very little work done. The thought commanded your full attention. If Alaris said yes, it would work. But that was if Alaris said yes. What if they didn’t? It was sort of asking a lot, even with the positive relationship you had. Would they be all right with it? Would it be unbearably awkward? The concerns flitted around your head like bees, preventing you from focusing on any of the work piled at your desk.

When you returned home, a bit earlier than you had for the past few days, Alaris was sitting in their usual position at the kitchen table, peering at their laptop. “You’re home!” they said, looking up in surprise. “Dinner’s almost ready. You’ll actually be able to eat it fresh for once.” They glanced at your face and their expression fell. “Oh. You look worried. Did something happen? Are you all right?”

“Everything’s fine. I just couldn’t focus, so I decided to come home a little early,” you said. “Actually, I had something I wanted to ask you.”

Alaris shrugged. “Sure. Just let me finish dinner, then we can talk.”

Dinner was a quiet, anxious affair. You fidgeted the entire time. Alaris kept glancing at you with obvious concern, but they didn’t say anything. They just waited for you to be ready to speak.

Once dinner was cleared away and the plates had been taken care of, Alaris fixed you with a firm glare. “Is everything all right?” they asked. “You’ve been looking at me strangely all through dinner. Is something wrong?” Their expression became even more creased with concern. “Something with work? What happened? I can support you if you need-”

“Alaris!” You cut them off, raising your voice enough to be heard over their frantic speaking. They stopped, staring at you. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I didn’t get fired. Nothing’s wrong. I just want to ask you something.”

Their expression relaxed and they rubbed at the back of their neck. “Um. Heh. Sorry. Then why do you look so nervous, then?”

“I’m just…” You realized that there was no easy way to explain this and just shook your head. “I’ll ask you what I want to ask you and you’ll see why I’m nervous,” you said with a laugh. Alaris looked confused, but they nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “So, you know that we’ve got that work party, right?”

“Yes,” Alaris said. “The one you need to bring a partner too, right?”

“That’s the one. Er, and I don’t have anyone to go with me.”

“I did offer to try and find you someone,” Alaris said. “But you said-”

“I said I didn’t want to go with someone I didn’t know. I remember. And that still holds true. But I kind of had another idea at work. It’s something Sadie suggested to me. Well, she didn’t really suggest it, but she said something that made me think-” You cut yourself off, trying to stop the rambling before it got started. “Ugh, I’m getting nervous. I’m going to just come right out and say it. Alaris. I want to take you to the party as my date.”

Alaris’ mouth dropped open. You could see the sharp tips of their canines.

“Not as my real date,” you said, hurrying to explain. “I mean, you’d be going to the party as my date, but it wouldn’t be real. It would be, you know. You’d be pretending to be my date.”

Alaris’ mouth slowly closed. You saw their throat bob as they swallowed. “Er. Uh. You, uh. Want me to go to the party with you?” Their voice came out more strangled than you’d expected.

“Well, yes. I know we’re not dating, but most people at work don’t know that and it would be easier to pretend to be dating someone I know than it would be to pretend to date someone I don’t know. I would totally make it up to you, do all the house cleaning for a week or whatever you want.”

Alaris just stared at you, eyes so wide you could see the whites all the way around. “You don’t have to say yes,” you added. The way they were looking at you was starting to freak you out. It looked more like you’d cracked them across the head with a two-by-four than asked them on a fake date. “I just thought it would be a good idea- but if it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” Alaris was flushed, red spreading across their face at a rapid pace. But they looked at you steadily regardless. “I- I was surprised, is all.” They swallowed and their blush started to recede down their face, though their ears were still bright pink. “Are you sure you want to ask me?” they added. “I am a podcaster. There’s a reason I don’t have an office job myself. Social interaction is… well, it’s not exactly my forte.”

“I really can’t think of anyone else I could be in a relationship with,” you said. The blush, which had been steadily going down, flared back into full force. It was probably a good thing Alaris wasn’t drinking anything, as it probably would have ended up spewed across the table. “I mean, I could, er, convincingly fake a relationship with.” Was that better? You weren’t sure. “So! You’re, uh. You’re okay with this?”

Alaris lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I do have a request to make in return.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Alaris leaned across the table toward you. “I want you to finally be a guest on my podcast.”

You stared. “What, that’s it? Are you sure? I’m not exactly the most interesting person alive. I don’t think I’d make for a very good episode.”

“I’ve told my audience a lot about you. They’re curious. I think they’d be thrilled to finally get to speak with you. Or just to hear you speak.” Alaris smiled encouragingly at you. “That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, I’ll take it,” you said, reaching across to shake their hand. “But I think I should still take you out for dinner or something.”

“If you want to,” Alaris said. They straightened up fully, their snaky tail wriggling underneath them. “Just let me know what I should wear.” They slithered out of the room, leaving you slumped over the kitchen table with relief.

It was a couple more weeks before the party, but you found yourself looking forward to it, strangely enough. The idea of going with Alaris was actually an appealing one. Even if parties weren’t your thing, at least you would be guaranteed to have a good time with someone you liked.

On the eve of the party, you dressed in a formal dress shirt and nice pants and knocked on Alaris’ door. “Are you ready to go?” you called. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you?”

“That might actually be a good cover story,” Alaris called back. “You had a date, but they stood you up. Might be able to play on their sympathy.”

“Are you trying to get out of this?” you asked. “It’s not going to be that easy. Back out now and you’ll never get me on your podcast!”

Alaris gave a series of giggly snorts. “A fate worse than death! I’ll be out in a minute.” There was some rustling and shifting from behind the door and then it creaked open. Alaris emerged from the room, head ducked shyly.

They were wearing a white shirt with a few glimmering buttons as accents. A skirt-like piece of clothing was attached to their waist, held up with a particularly fancy belt that glistened with gold bangles. Apparently, particularly nice belts were popular fashion statements among nagas. They also wore a small golden hoop on one of their ears, and their hair was teased up to look even more fluffy and soft than their natural style. “Is this the right style?” Alaris asked, smoothing down the front of their shirt. “I don’t go to many office parties, so I’m not sure what the dress code it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but found it strangely dry. You had to swallow a few times before trying again. “Yes, I think you look great.” Alaris smiled, looking flattered. You offered them your arm, trying to recover. “We, uh. We should get going.”

Alaris’ fingers were cool on your arm as you headed out to the car you’d called. Usually the bus was cheaper, but you’d decided to splurge a little bit. Also, riding the bus could be uncomfortable for someone without legs, and the car specifically had accommodations for nagas.

You found yourself jittering as you headed toward the party. Alaris rested one of their hands on your elbow. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure that we’ll be able to convince them,” they said. You found yourself leaning into their comforting touch.

“You think you can convincingly act as my partner?” you asked, anxiety leaking into your voice.

“I-” Alaris’ expression flickered for a moment, then their smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach their eyes. “I think I’m a pretty convincing actor.”

Their confidence reassured you, and you leaned against their shoulder as you headed toward the party. Nerves still jumped in your chest, but Alaris kept a gentle hand on you, grounding you.

When you reached your office, you could see a few people milling around outside. Pretty much everyone was partnered up, including one couple off in a corner who seemed to be trying to eat each others’ faces off. You nudged Alaris and pointed them out.

“I guess if we really get tired of trying to mingle with people, we can just go to a corner and start making out.” Alaris made a choked noise and their face burned bright red. They looked so taken aback by it that you found yourself blushing as well.

“Uh, never mind. Let’s go inside.” You slipped out of the car and waited for Alaris to follow you. As soon as their full tail was on the ground, you started to walk toward the building, only to have your arm seized. “What? Something wrong?”

Alaris laughed at you, though it was so gentle and affectionate that you didn’t feel embarrassed. “You’re really not good at this, are you?” they said. “We should be walking in together, shouldn’t we?”

“Oh.” You felt your face grow warm again. This time, you offered your arm to Alaris, who took it and allowed you to lead them into the party.

It was loud, a dull roar of voices that you found grating. Alaris snuggled closer to you, arms tightening on your own. “More people than I was expecting,” they murmured.

“I guess if everyone brought a partner, then the usual population of the office would be doubled.” You carefully dodged a couple of people, threading your way through the crowd.

It took less than five minutes to get cornered by a coworker. You recognized them vaguely, a human who worked as an office manager and managed to be relentlessly cheery at all times. “It’s nice to see you here,” he said, grinning at you broadly. “I didn’t think you were going to come, you know. Parties don’t seem like your scene.”

You forced a smile as large as his was. “Well, I’m not a big partier, but I thought the occasion was good enough to come out. And there’s no reason not to show off my partner.” You gave Alaris a gentle squeeze.

Greetings were exchanged, and you were introduced to your coworker’s partner, another human who was just as smiley as he was. By the time you disentangled yourself from the conversation, you were feeling exhausted.

“Okay, see, this is why I don’t go to parties,” Alaris murmured into your ear. “So much talking about nonsense.”

“It’ll only be a few hours,” you murmured back. Your mouth was close to their ear, you noticed, almost brushing their skin. That hot flush crept up your face once more. “Er. Do you want something to eat?”

Food ended up being your temporary saving grace, since it was difficult to carry on a conversation with your mouth full of snacks. Still, your coworkers stopped by every few minutes to engage you in some kind of chatter. Alaris, for all their protests, was much better at small talk than they appeared to be. They were also quite good at pretending to be your partner. One of their hands was constantly hovering at your waist, fingertips trailing over your clothes. You found yourself hyperaware of their hand on your side, the brush of their shoulders against yours.

When it became clear that food was no longer going to save you from conversation, you looked for some other escape. Soft, slow music caught your attention, and you looked around to see that a makeshift dance floor had been set up in the middle of the office.

You nudged Alaris in the side. “Want to dance?”

Alaris looked down at their long, sinuous tail, then back up at you. “Are you sure you want to ask me to dance?”

“I’ve seen nagas dance before,” you insisted. It was true that it resembled the sort of swaying motion that snakes did before a charmer, but it was still something. “And you can’t be any worse than me.”

“Now you’re being modest. I’ve seen you dance,” Alaris said.

“The two years my mom forced me to spend in ballroom dancing never really left me,” you said. “But that means I’ll be a good leader for you. Just follow me.”

Alaris rolled their eyes, but allowed you to take their hand and guide them onto the dance floor. There was an open spot roughly big enough for the two of you fairly close to the center. You lifted the hand that was clasped in Alaris’ and settled your other hand on their waist. They fumbled uncertainly with their free hand for a moment before resting it on your shoulder.

You kept the dance simple, a slow four-step that allowed you to move in a loose circle. Alaris’ tail trailed behind them, and you were a little worried it was going to get stepped on, but the people around you seemed to be taking care not to.

Alaris leaned closer to you as you danced. Their head lowered to your shoulder and their free hand shifted to your back. Your face started to heat up. You could feel your heartbeat jackhammering away in your chest. Surely Alaris was close enough to feel it, but they didn’t make a mention. They just leaned into your body.

You glanced over their shoulder to see one or two of the other couples on the dance floor pointing your way and making ‘aww’ faces. Was that why Alaris was doing this? Because they wanted to make your couple act more convincing? The idea struck you like a knife through your chest, a startling pain that made you gasp.

Alaris pulled their head back. Their eyes roved across your face with concern. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

“I-” Your face felt like it was on fire under their scrutiny. Why had the idea that they were just pretending made something inside you twist and burn? You had asked them to pretend, after all. But suddenly the idea that all this was a farce, it ate at you. “Hold on. I need, uh. Some air. I’m sorry.”

Alaris looked bewildered, but you broke away and stumbled off the dance floor. You heard them calling after you, but you ignored them. Instead, you stumbled over to the door to the back of the office and pushed outside.

Cold air hit you like a bracing slap to the face. You gulped it in, appreciating the clarity. Away from all the other people and Alaris’ concerned gaze, you felt like you could think again.

What was that? All of a sudden, you were feeling things that you definitely shouldn’t have been feeling for your roommate. For your friend. Where had this come from? Surely it hadn’t been there all this time? You would have noticed it. Wouldn’t you?

No, you realized slowly. Because it hadn’t been a sudden drop into feeling all warm and fuzzy. It had been a slow, subtle shift of your feelings over the months that you’d known each other. And now that you were looking back, in hindsight, you could remember how eager you’d been to come home to them. How you’d felt so fond of them trying to take care of you. How much you craved the touch of their hands whenever they tried to help fix your clothes or smoothed down your hair. And, you realized, you would never have asked them to come with you if you hadn’t had some feelings for them.

The sound of the door opening behind you made you spin around. For a moment, you prepared to make an excuse to a coworker and shuffle back inside, but Alaris slithered out and you stopped breathing.

What were you going to say to them? A bolt of fear struck you. You had only just figured out how you felt about them. Would they even feel the same way? Were they just here with you as a friend? Maybe they were just a good housemate. That was possible. Maybe they-

“Hey.” Alaris’ voice cut through the whirling frenzy in your mind, soothing you just a little. They folded their hands in front of them, swaying awkwardly on their tail. “Are you all right? I just wanted to check on you.”

“Uh. Yeah. I’m fine.” You rubbed at the back of your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s okay.” Alaris slithered over to you. “Are you done with the party already?”

Their voice was teasing and you laughed. “I was done with it before it started. But no. I’m going to go back inside in a couple of minutes. I just wanted to get some air. Er, if you’re done with the party, though, you can go. I wouldn’t want to keep you-”

“And abandon you? Never!” Alaris said. The immediacy of their response made warmth swell and flutter in your chest. For a moment, you gazed up at them, trying to convey your gratitude with just your eyes. They stared back, a flush slowly creeping across their face. They swallowed.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Your voice came out quieter than you expected. Alaris’ blush grew stronger, but they kept looking at you steadily. “I- I know it must be uncomfortable to have to pretend to date me, but-”

Alaris burst into laughter. You startled, staring as their upper half sagged forward with the heaving effort of their laughing. After a moment, Alaris stifled their giggles and gave you a weak smile, though it still crinkled their eyes at the corners.

“Er,” you said, a little confused. “Are you okay?”

“It was just sort of funny,” Alaris said. They reached out and tweaked a strand of your hair that was starting to cowlick up from your head. You felt your face flame. “It’s…” They abruptly closed their mouth, their sharp teeth coming down on their lower lip.

You had never been good at the silent dance of unsaid emotions. Most of the time, you stood in blissful ignorance of how you felt, but once you were sure what you felt like, you wanted to get it off your chest as soon as possible. “Alaris,” you said. “I- well, okay, this isn’t the best time to say it, but I’ve never been good at not saying things. I think… I think I’m realizing that I might have feelings for you.”

Alaris stared at you. There was no readable expression on their face. You continued. “I- that wasn’t why I invited you to come with me. At least, not intentionally. But I think I’m realizing that I’m so comfortable around you because I think I do like you. I’m- I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have asked you to fake date me if I really thought I had feelings for you, but I only just realized it and- what are you doing?”

Alaris had both hands pressed to their mouth. Their shoulders tremored with some sort of repressed emotion. You stared at them. It was so hard to make out their expression. Were they crying? Laughing? About to throw up? Oh, please let them not be blackout drunk- you did not want to have to repeat your confession.

Before you could ask if they were all right, they threw their head back and their peals of laughter echoed across the back of the office building. You blinked at them. “Sorry, sorry,” they said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I- oh, this is very ironic and it’s pretty funny to me.” They wiped a few stray tears from their eyes. “I was afraid of going with you because I thought it would make you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t resist the idea of getting to spend time with you. Especially as a couple.” One of their hands came over yours and your breath caught as the implications sank in.

“You’re saying you wanted to come with me as a couple?” Your voice was embarrassingly unsteady. Alaris didn’t seem to mind, though. They just leaned their forehead against yours.

“I have had a crush on you since almost a week after you moved in with me,” they confessed. “Why do you think I kept trying to get you on my podcast? It was my very shallow, very transparent attempt to spend time with you.”

A relieved giggle burst from your lips. “Oh, my god. You’ve been in love with me the whole time and I just never noticed?”

“Give yourself a little break. You’ve been working yourself all but ragged,” Alaris said. “And I wasn’t exactly trying to be obvious about it or anything. But yeah. I get very domestic with the people I like.”

“I’ve noticed. I just thought you were being nice,” you said.

“Well, I was. I was just being nice only to you.” Alaris leaned closer to you. Their mouth was so close to yours. Impulse struck you and you leaned forward, pressing your lips against theirs.

Their mouth was a little dry and rough against yours, but it softened as they molded their lips against yours. Their hands came down, securing around your waist, and, to your immense surprise, they lifted you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around their waist. They were a lot stronger than you were expecting, for someone who sat at a computer for a living.

Their tongue explored your mouth as they turned to press you against the wall. You had a brief flicker of concern that someone would come out and see you, but that dimmed as they pressed closer to you. A moan slipped from your mouth as they kissed you deeper.

After a few minutes, or a few hours, or some other strange length of time, Alaris broke away from you. You took a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you sure?” Alaris asked. “I thought this was important to your job.”

“Fuck my job,” you said. “I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

Alaris laughed and set you back on the ground. “Ooh. You know, if we’re dating, you have to come on my podcast now.”

“Fine, fine,” you said. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to try some things that would not be allowed to go to air.”

Alaris grinned, took your hand, and started to pull you back toward the parking lot.

#exophilia #naga lover #naga #fake dating #fake relationship #monster lover #reader insert

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years

Note

modern au wth biker luke meet the parents

Friend, you brain-thoughts, I like them. <3!

(Modern AU idea.)

Let’s say this takes place sometime after Luke’s old biker gang comes to town, at least a couple of months afterwards to allow Din to recover from the shenanigans.

I mean, he likes Luke’s friends just fine, they’re all good people and he definitely appreciates the fact they were there for Luke and his family when he needed them to be, but...they can be a lot.

So.

A few months down the road and things are pretty much back to normal for Din’s odd little family, right?

He and Luke attempt to do Real Dates but the universe at large tends to conspire against them in the form of shenanigans like car trouble or that time the the water main broke and Din got roped into helping fix it and other assorted reasons.

Which, honestly, fine with both of them.

Neither of them are all that big on stuff like that, and are just as happy with staying in with takeout and watching a over with Grogu.

(Or, you know, Cara or one of their friends taking Grogu for the night so they can have Alone Time, although half the time that just means one or both of them ends up a snoring, drooling mess before the credits roll on the movie they’re watching, but that’s fine too, because sleep? But also morning frisky times and the whatnot, or just being sappy saps who are totes married who send the morning in bed smooching and making fun of their bed hair and dumb faces and anyway, they do just fine, you know?)

Once in a while, though, the planets align or some BS and they get to go on a Real Date.

Tends to result in one or both of them being !!! and ??? because it’s been a while since they’ve been on one of those or they overthink the whole thing like they aren’t sickeningly gone over one another and more or less married already, but still!

Must make an effort to show how much they love and cherish the other and want them to feel special and such. (Also, their friends/family have had Meetings about this stuff, insist they have at least one (1) Real Date every six (6) months so they can see how normal human beings socialize.

ANYWAY.

Their anniversary is coming up and everyone insists Din and Luke have one of those Real Dates, right?

There are actual strategy meetings to make sure every possible complication/disaster is accounted for, their friends are going to make sure this thing happens or so help them!!1!

Din is honestly a little terrified of telling them it’s not that serious a matter, and Luke thinks the whole thing’s hilarious. (Gets this wistful look on his face when he gets a glimpse of the war room Din’s friends set up in the back room of Boba’s bike shop and makes yet another vague reference about that time his family was at the heart of a vast conspiracy that spanned decades and effects are felt even now, and yeah.

Din gets sent all over the city to Prepare for Real Date.

According to his friends and loved ones he needs a new haircut, and a new suit - which, fair, the last one was from a job and kind of technically stolen because that time he had to go undercover and there was a suit..shop..and anyway, he apologized, but that’s neither here nor there.

SO.

Din’s all over the place on errands his friends and loved ones assigned to him and it’s less trouble to go along with all this than trying to reason with them.

(And honestly, he’s kind of looking forward to it in a weird way?)

Anyhow.

He’s just leaving the final fitting for his suit - all shy and embarrassed because Cara and Fennec went with him to decide on what he/they wanted for him that first time. They’d both given him the softest smiles when he settled on one he liked, fabric and color and all that, approved and told him he cleaned up nice and anyway, he kind of likes the thought of doing that for Luke, okay. It’s...nice.)

Thing is, though.

He’s had the weirdest feeling the last few days, week, maybe. Like. It’s weird but he the thing where he used to work as a bounty hunter with/for Boba and he learned to trust his instincts, so he’s not completely caught off guard when he gets cornered in the parking garage after his last fitting.

A couple of guys he doesn’t recognize, lean guy in all black and a long coat. Long-ish hair and a scar over one eye. Black gloves - something about that sticks in his head, niggling little thought, something familiar.

The other one’s broader built, a little shorter. Din’s mind categorizes him as the muscle. Wearing a dark jacket, baseball cap pulled down to hide his eyes but there’s something familiar about him too, knocking around in Din’s head.

Definitely a threat, but it’s the first guy Din knows he doesn’t want to turn his back on.

Just this aura of threat, and dangerous, and don’t look away from him in Din’s head and for the first time in a long time he wishes he still carried a gun.

Not that he’s helpless by any means, knows hand-to-hand and all that, martial arts and boxed when he was a kid. Also, you know. That collapsible baton that strictly speaking he shouldn’t have, but knowing Boba means exceptions get made, and it’s one he’s never felt all that guilty about. Especially in situations like this one.

Din hasn’t gone for it because for all the bad vibes these guys are giving him they haven’t done anything yet and he’d rather not be the one to start something.

(Paperwork, you know. Also, his date with Luke.)

Oh, they’re between him and his minivan, acting like a couple of tough guys with the posturing but it’s not just that.

Din knows the difference between idiots who watch too many action movies and think they’re worth anything in a fight and the real thing and these two aren’t the useless kind.

So far all they’ve done is stand intimidatingly, which is strange as hell, but fits with the rest of Din’s life, and anyway.

Just as Din’s starting to wonder if this is going to end in a fight, like, really actually, he hears a bike. Aggressively. Getting closer. Aggressively.

Nothing weird about it because they’re in a city and people drive bikes, and hey. Parking garage where people sometimes park their bikes while going about their business elsewhere and really, he tells himself, it’s just some random person who rides a bike.

REALLY.

Only thing is.

It sounds familiar?

Like.

Really, unfortunately familiar in that he swears he’s worked on it himself a time or two. Become unbearably fond of it’s owner, and please, please, please don’t let it be Luke.

So, you know, of course it’s Luke.

Comes roaring into the parking garage, Din sighing and like oh, goddammit, as he and his two new BFFs listen to Luke approaching.

Bike going vroom vroom and tires squealing as he makes it up every level of the parking garage to where Din and his BFFs are.

And it’s like, there’s part of him worried Luke’s going to crash, but the rest of him knows Luke’s a good driver, knows he knows every little quirk of his bike and how it handles and when Wedge and the others were visiting he got to see Luke show off just how good he is.

(It had been utterly terrifying because potential for death and whatnot? But als super hot, so. You can see how Din is conflicted there.)

Anyway, Din is standing there listening to the love of his life vroom vroom up several levels of the parking garage to, like, rescue him or whatever, and the guys who cornered him are sharing this look like why are we even surprised by this and shrug at each other going from top tier threats looking Very Tired all of a sudden that’s kind of confusing, and entirely relatable.

FINALLY they see Luke coming up the ramp and he’s headed right for them, does that totally rad thing where he swings the back of the bike around as he screeches to a stop, solidly between Din and the other two.

Dramatic as hell, but to be fair Din had been warned about that, something about it running in the family and anyway.

Luke himself warned Din. Obi-Wan warned Din, as well as sharing stories of the stuff he and Luke’s dad got up Before while they worked for the same agency. Cody warned Din, shooting a loot at Obi-Wan and dropping his voice so the other man wouldn’t overhear “Don’t let him fool you, Anakin learned most of that from him,” but there was fondness under the scowl aimed at Obi-Wan’s back that Din understood because, well, Luke.

Everyone in Luke’s life Din’s met told him about the Drama that runs in the Skywalker family, so this?

Yeah.

“Luke,” Din says, because the other two are definitely armed, and love of his life who helped expose a massive conspiracy theory and all, but also maybe not the brightest idea to do this right now. Or ever, really. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Luke being Luke, he ignores Din.

Reaches up to pull his helmet off, and Din notices he’s not wearing the glove on his right hand, or the synthetic skin over the prosthetic, like he was in a hurry, didn’t take the time to “pretty it up” for other people the way he puts it, vague shrug strange smile on his face, like there was something more important on his mind.

(Din never got the full story about it, just knows it’s tied to whatever happened to his family and the everything that turned Luke’s life upside down, ended up with him in Din and Grogu’s life.)

Luke sets his helmet down in front of him, and gives Din a quic once-over, checking to see if he’s okay before he lets out a sigh. Flashes Din a smile, relief, something that’s simply happy to see him, and a bit like an apology.

Looks like he’s about to say something, but then the lean figure in black takes a step towards them and the smile drops off Luke’s face and his head snaps around to the other two.

The figure in black stops, goes still.

Din stares because he’s never seen Luke look like that in the time he’s known him.

(Remember a night out with Luke, Obi-Wan, and Cody, Luke laughing about double dates and Obi-Wan’s exasperated smile as they watched Luke and Cody in the middle of a game of pool when a pair of drunk idiots wandered over and tried to pick a fight.

A comment they had been far to overhear but easy enough to figure out with the ugly sneer tossed toward the table Din and Obi-Wan were seated at, something that wiped the tolerant smile off Luke’s face, had him pushing past Cody who was trying to de-escalate the situation, and saying something that made the drunkard go white. Scared shitless as he dragged his friend away.

Din had looked at Obi-Wan who just sighed, faint smile on his face as he shook his head.

And Din, Din had said he’d ever seen Luke angry before -

“Angry?” Obi-Wan had said, amused? “Well I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

He’d taken a drink, and leaned towards Din like he was sharing a secret, just between the two of them, and laughed. “You still haven’t, by the way, in case you were wondering. Trust me, you’ll know when you see it.”

There’d been something else too, about Luke taking after his father that way, weight of history Din wasn’t privy to behind it and a fond exasperation Din knew well.)

“Hey, Dad,” Luke says.

He sounds.

Well, the thing is, Luke doesn’t sound angry.

Or, not just angry.

He sounds careful, controlled. Tense. Like he’s a lot of things at the moment, and the wrong word, moved, from his dad - Luke’s dad - will be the deciding factor.

The figure in all black - Luke’s dad? - sighs. Rubs the back of his neck with a hand, shares a look with the man next to him who shrugs.

“Luke,” he says, sounding...sheepish, caught out. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Din winces on his behalf, feels an odd sort of kinship with the other man who snorts, mutters something like not a great idea.

Luke nods, sounds like oh, no, yeah, I totally understand that.

“I know,” he says. “Good thing mom called to tell me you were coming for a visit.”

Luke’s dad winces. “Oh she did, did she?”

It goes on like that for a bit before Anakin apologizes for pulling this nonsense, approaching Din in a parking garage like something from a spy movie -

“Well, I mean,” Luke says later, once things aren’t quite so bizarre. “He is a spy, so. You know.”

They all head to Obi-Wan’s center where they can “talk” because Luke was supposed to go there to help with administrative stuff or whatever before Padme called, and anyway, surely Anakin and Rex wouldn’t mind?

Obi-Wan takes one look at all of them, the way Luke makes sure to be between Din and the others at all times and pins Anakin with a look.

“Oh, Anakin,” he says, amused and dismayed. “What did you do?”

Din misses a lot of what’s said, things going over his head because Luke and unresolved issues and his dad’s earlier antics, and anyway, anyway.

Din gets a call and goes outside to take it, waves off Luke’s worried look because he’s not done reading his dad the riot act about not being a complete menace about Luke’s life, dad, c’mon.

But the thing is, the call’s not a number he knows, he just needed to get out of there for a moment.

Imagine his surprise, suspicion when he hears, “I hope my idiot of a husband didn’t make too bad of a first impression.”

Because it’s Luke’s mom, and he’s definitely not going to think about how she got his number after the everything with Luke’s dad, and just.

They have a conversation, one that’s actually nice. She asks after Luke, if he’s taking care of himself, if Din is helping in that regard. Asks how Din’s doing, how his adorable son of his is, and Din knows okay. Knows Luke’s sent her pictures of Din and Grogu, the three of them, when he talks to her, but it’s still a surprise how much he talks about them to her?

When he says that, just a random comment he didn’t mean to say there’s a moment of silence and then she laughs. Tells him her son is head over heels for Din, that she’s never seen him like this with anyone, and he adores Grogu, and just.

It’s a lot to take in, hear someone else say, and she must know it because she’s so gentle the rest of their coversation, laughs again as she asks him not to think too badly about Anakin, and he tells her he’ll try, because wow, what a first impression to make,you know?

Just as they end the call the door behind him opens and Din looks up to see Anakin.

He looks...awkward. Embarrassed? Something.

Din watches as Anakin goes over to Luke’s bike, remembers Luke telling him it used to be his dad’s.

Watches the complicated mess of emotions that wash over Anakin’s face as he looks at the bike, runs a hand along the side of the gas tank Luke repainted when he joined that biker gang of his.

Anakin sighs, shoulders slumping and when he looks at Din he doesn’t look like the intimidating figure in the parking garage, like threat and danger and the smart ones run.

He looks. Tired. Worried. Older than he should be, but with what he knows about Luke’s family Din’s pretty sure he knows the reason for that. For what h thought he was doing in the parking garage, maybe, Din’s still on the fence about that.

He understands why Anakin did that, just. Like Luke says, Complicated.

The important thing is that Anakin apologizes to Din. Tells him he’s maybe kind of an idiot - Din is like OH??? - and the Thing with his family that is definitely his fault, but he is trying to work things out with them and he’s just.

A touch overprotective as a result of the everything, so.

He just.

Worries.

Din is like, no, no, he gets it? But maybe try not to look like you’re going to murder your son’s boyfriend in a parking garage maybe? (Assuming Din survives the Skywalker family.)

Some awkwardness and then Anakin’s like, “I didn’t think he’d keep it,” about the bike, because Issues.

And Din is like, well, okay, and tells him what Luke told him about it. About Padme giving Luke the bike and that summer he spent restoring it, about his friends -

“Yeah,” Anakin says, and laughs. “Never expetd him to join a biker gang.”

The thing is he doesn’t sound surprised by that, or even a little worried. Probably used to hiding bodies, or he’s just met Luke’s friends and knows there isn’t anything to worry about there.

Anakin tells Din about how he got the bike, stories when he was a dumb kid and asks if Luke ever managed to get this things with the bike fixed.

Tells Anakin no, it still acts up and is the reason Din and Luke met when the bike broke down that first time, and to his surprise Anakin actually laughs.

“That’s...huh. Padme and I met under similar circumstances.”

Which, weird?

But Anakin’s looking at Din with this tentative little smile, and Din is like, well, he doesn’t know what just that he understands being protective of his people.

So they talk about the bike, and Din tells him about meeting Luke - leaves out the awkward flirting bits but he can tell from the looks Anakin gives him he fills i the details himself.

And then!

At some point Anakin pulls out a little multi-tool because you can’t aways cart a toolbox around with you Din is like, just wonders if Anakin knows Luke carries one for the same reason Well, that and the fact his prosthetic hand can be temperamental and such.

“Well this is definitely better than what I thought I’d find,” Luke says, surprising the two of them who have kind of taken the bike’s engine a little somewhere along the way?

Anakin and Din trying to pinpoint what’s wrong with the bike even though no one has for years by this point, and it’s like uh, ooops?

Because it’s Luke’s bike now and they didn’t mean to, but Luke is just. Amused, fond. Goes over to them and asks if they found the problem yet and when they say no clearly they must continue, and anyway.

Obi-Wan comes out after an hour, maybe two and looks at the three of them with raised eyebrows.

Tells Anakin that Padme’s flight just landed and Cody and Rex left to pick her up from the airport - which.

Huh, that explains where they went. The three of them notices, waved and all but were caught up in figuring out the bike Issue and didn’t give it much thought,

Also, Luke and Din are going to be late for their reservations if they don’t get going and then it’s like.

Anakin all flustered because Padme - knows he’s in trouble with the whole parking garage incident but Padme, and Luke and Din share this look with Obi-Wan because it’s seriously adorable.

Also, though, also.

Luke and Din and a quick conversation off to the side while Anakin goes inside to get cleaned up - smudge of oil or grease on his face, and his hands are filthy and just.

Yes.

And then Luke asks if Obi-Wan and COdy had plans for the night, all casual and such, and Obi-Wan has this little smile on his face.

Because he knows these idiots so well, and tells Luke that no, he doesn’t actually, is there a reason Luke’s asking?

And of course Luke is asking because Luke and Din cancelled their reservations, but there’s a nice restaurant they know that should still have roo for their group if no one object.

Just a nice little family dinner out, and anyway, no pressure?

So of course they do the family dinner thing - Anakin worried because the whole everything from earlier and takes Din and Luke aside and apologizes again, and that they should go have their date and it’s like.

Luke gets this look on his face, all soft and kind of sad and touches his dad on the arm to get him to look at him.

“Just. Don’t do anything like that again, alright?”

That look from the parking garage on his face again for a split second, and Anakin clearly sees it, knows understands.

Looks at Din to see what his feelings are on things and Din just shrugs because while it had been a bit much, he did understand, and anyway.

So.

Din gives Luke a ride home to get ready for the dinner - Luke insisting Din show him the new suit...later, which gets poor Din all flustered while Luke laughs at him, and anyway, anyway.

The go off and have their family dinner, where Din is rightfully in awe of Padme and the way Anakin dotes on her. Gets this soft little feeling in his chest at the easy relationship between her and Luke, and leans over to Obi-Wan at one point like.

“Are Cody and Rex related?” because there’s a definite resemblance between them.

Obi-Wan almost chokes on his wine, and manages to get out something about the two of them being from a big family. Gets this little smile on his face and tells him to ask Boba about it sometime, and anyway.

Padme gets Din alone for a private chat while everyone’s bringing the cars around and getting ready to say their goodnights.

Apologizes for Anakin again and tells Din they both like him very much, and Din while Din is trying to think of something to say about that Anakin pulls up to the curb.

Padme gives Din a mischievous little grin and presses a kiss to his cheek, tells him that what they like most about him is how happy he makes their son, and while he’s all flustered from that gets in the waiting car with Anakin.

Luke comes over, worried little frown on his face and Din is like, so confused?

Luke’s parents are so confusing, and Luke laughing at him about it while he herds Din over to the minivan isn’t helping, and anyway, anway.

For a day that started rather ominously, it ended surprisingly well.

And!

Din even gets a goodnight kiss for his troubles, so you know, good day.

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #modern au idea #anon #replies #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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0606-hyuck · 3 years

Text

Word Count: 2.4K

“Oi, what are you doing?” Chenle cried as he walked into the kitchen and spotted Jisung digging through his designated corner of the pantry.

“I’m stealing your popcorn, clearly,” replied Jisung, finally finding the snack he was after and removing himself from the pantry. When he turned around to his friend, Chenle let out a gasp as he caught sight of the armful of snacks he was barely managing to hold in his hands.

“What are you doing?” He repeated through shakes of laughter just as Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin also entered the kitchen.

Dumping the snacks on the counter top before crouching down and sifting through another cupboard, Jisung stated, “I’m finding stuff I can take to Y/N’s place tonight. Does anyone know where our reusable bags have gone?”

“No no no,” Jaemin huffed dramatically as he sorted through the snacks. “You’re literally going to eat us out of house and home.”

Renjun peered over Jaemin’s shoulder before adding, “I’m sure Y/N has food at her place anyway. You should only take this,” he pulled a pack of air fried crisps from the pile and headed towards the fridge, “and this.” Renjun grabbed a bottle of iced coffee and handed it to Jisung, who took it eagerly.

Jeno moved over to his youngest friend and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Jisung, we all know you’re nervous for your date with Y/N but-”

“It’s not a date, is it?” Jisung gasped, as if the implication of Y/N’s invitation had finally hit him. “She didn’t say anything about it being a date…oh my god.”

Grabbing him by both shoulders, Jeno turned Jisung around so he was facing him fully. Jeno could already see his friend was starting to spiral into a meltdown and felt Jisung would ruin any chance he had with the girl he liked before anything had even happened.

“Hey, look at me. This is Y/N we’re talking about,” Jeno started, as Jisung seemed to calm down enough to focus wholly on him. “Let’s be real, you’ve basically been going on dates with Y/N for the past few weeks, and this isn’t really any different. The best thing you can do is try not to overthink everything and just be yourself, because clearly she enjoys hanging out with you. Not nervous overthinking Jisung, but you.”

Jaemin picked up the crisps and drink they’d decided Jisung would bring and handed it to him when he was released by Jeno. “You’ll be fine, our Baby Jisungie~” Jaemin teased as he led Jisung towards the front door to wave him off.

“Oh here, take this.” Chenle passed his pack of popcorn to his best friend before opening the door for him. “Have fun Jisung!”

⇝

You had to hold yourself back from sprinting to the door after you heard three short, sharp knocks. You absentmindedly wiped a hand over your jeans to rid yourself of any sweat left on your hands and hoped you didn’t look too shabby. You’d changed from your sweatpants and sweater into some faded blue jeans and a casual white top, and also ran a hairbrush through your hair in preparation for Jisung’s arrival.

In the back of your mind, you realised you’d never dressed up so nicely in your own home just to watch movies before. Saja was also confused and appeared to think you were taking him on a walk, as he trailed behind you excitedly.

As you walked to the door, your mum waved wildly to get your attention and when you turned to face her, she gave you a double thumbs up and a wide grin in anticipation for Jisung’s entrance. Rolling your eyes but sporting a small, amused smile, you gripped the door handle, took a deep breath to psych yourself up, and pulled open the door.

“Hi,” Jisung greeted. Upon seeing a familiar, friendly face, Saja rushed to him and jumped up, resting his paws on Jisung’s thighs, and you found it cute how eager your dog was to see him. He gave you a warm smile after the initial surprise of being mauled by your dog, but you could see he was struggling to hold onto the large bottle of iced coffee he’d brought over after Saja had knocked it slightly from his grip. Worried that it might be awkward to first let him in, you were relieved that you could use the drink as an excuse to rush him inside.

“Hey,” you grinned back, before gripping Saja’s collar and pulling him off your friend. Moving aside and offering to take the bottle from him, Jisung accepted your help readily. After snatching some food from your own kitchen, you re-introduced him to your parents, who were seated in the living room. You noticed Jisung appeared friendly but nervous, so you decided to head straight to your room, thinking that maybe he was nervous because of the presence of your parents.

As you led Jisung past the couch, your mum turned on the couch to face you and joked, “be responsible you two, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You embarrassedly continued forwards to your room, with Saja leading the way, and you heard your dad comment, “don’t listen to her, Suzie would do anything at your age!”

Hurriedly, you managed to reach your room and close the door before your parents could reminisce on their escapades from years gone by. Your parents were humiliating, but when you noticed how Jisung seemed to have relaxed, you realised they must have been doing it on purpose for his benefit. Trying to embarrass you to make him laugh and feel more comfortable. You sarcastically thought you’d have to remember to thank them later.

“You can get comfortable on my bed while I sort out my laptop real quick,” you commented, and Jisung complied, dumping the snacks on the end of the bed and taking the left side. As soon as he’d sat down, Saja leapt onto the bed and rested his head on Jisung’s lap, barely giving him enough time to get comfortable before he was smothered in tan fur.

“Saja! At least let Jisung breathe!” You scolded as you opened the movie streaming website and browsed the new releases. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?”

“Ah, it’s fine. Saja knows he’s my friend so it’s okay,” smiled Jisung. As for a movie suggestion, although this wasn’t specified as a date, Jisung was suddenly feeling a surge of confidence. “Why not a, um, a rom-com?”

Upon hearing Jisung’s words, your scrolling faltered as you realised their implication, but luckily you were quick to compose yourself. “That sounds great!” After heading to the rom-com section of the website, you and Jisung decided on one and you joined him on your bed.

At first, you found it impossibly hard to focus on the movie with Jisung sitting so close to you. If you moved to the left even slightly, your arm would touch Jisung’s. Although you’d gone on dates before, something about spending this time with Jisung was different. Even compared to your usual dog-walking hangouts with him, this felt like a point of no return. It felt like a line crossed; although neither of you had called this a date, you knew both of you were treating it as if it was. And that thought made your insides squirm with a mix of both nervousness and excitement - Jisung had accepted your invitation knowing you’d be spending time alone with him in your room and had actually turned up, meaning he clearly wanted to be with you too.

When you glanced at Jisung, he seemed to have all his focus tuned in to the movie, but the closer you looked, the more you realised he seemed to be making a conscious effort to not touch you - he sat so he was close enough that it was intimate but not touching you, and when he handed you the snacks he tried his best to avoid touching your fingers. He was just as nervous as you were, if not more, and you felt a wave of reassurance at that thought.

Eventually you both managed to work out what the movie was actually about when you finally turned your attention away from each other and to the screen. When the ending credits were rolling, you made to shift to pause the movie and you noticed at some point Jisung had lent over your way so that your shoulders were touching. A blush spread like wildfire over your cheeks when you realised if you tilted your head slightly, you would be virtually nose-to-nose with him.

Jisung noted your movement and pulled away, realising at the same time that you did how close the pair of you were. Blushing, he tried his best to turn the centre of attention back to the movie. “I honestly didn’t see that ending coming, but I enjoyed it.”

“Right? It was a good movie, and I was surprised it wasn’t as cheesy as normal rom-coms,” you replied and reached for your laptop to browse other movies. “Ooo, how about we watch a horror movie?”

Jisung’s eyes comically widened to a concerning size at your suggestion, and he started to outright refuse before he considered how romantic watching a horror movie could be. Jisung never thought he’d use the word ‘romantic’ to describe a horror movie, but he figured it could be a good excuse to cozy up with his crush under a warm blanket, and snuggle closer together when you both got scared.

You found a suitable movie and as you were waiting for it to load, you let your head rest on the pillow behind you so you could peer at your dog’s sleeping form. Saja’s head was thoroughly nestled into Jisung’s jersey and he was half hanging off your friend’s side, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he was rubbing slow circles into Saja’s forehead, which you could tell your dog liked by the way he let out loud, content sighs every so often.

“I’m actually so surprised how well you get on with Saja,” you commented, shifting your attention up to Jisung. Your heart raced when he altered his position to look down at you and hold eye contact. “I hope this isn’t offensive, but you give off vibes that you’d be scared of dogs, and walk an alternative route if you saw one in your way.”

Jisung snorted loudly and ran a hand through his hair as an embarrassed look crossed his face. “Thanks for that, Y/N, glad I give off those vibes,” he sarcastically joked. When you started to apologise, Jisung quickly added, “honestly you’re right, I’m not a massive dog person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Jisung rubbed a hand over his face before deciding to be bold again. If this was a date, then it was about time he told you the truth. “Actually, I have no idea how to train dogs. Chenle and Jaemin kind of forced me to help you with Saja, even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

You moved so you were sitting upright and facing Jisung completely when you asked, “so why did you keep walking him with me? Why did they make you help me in the first place?”

Jisung broke eye contact and glanced down at his hands, which were visibly shaking, before taking a deep breath and looking back up. “Because they know...that I have a crush on you. That I really like you, Y/N. That’s why I keep hanging out with you, even though I can’t teach Saja anything.”

Upon hearing Jisung’s words, you let out a small gasp and watched his reaction to his own words. He could no longer make eye contact with you, and had stopped petting Saja to wait for your response to his confession. Your eyebrows rose into your hairline as you processed what he had said - you could tell Jisung had no idea what he was doing when he was teaching Saja and you had an inkling he was hanging out with you simply because he wanted to, but you never expected him to admit it to your face.

When you failed to respond instantly, Jisung peered back at you with concern shining in his brown eyes. You felt a tug on your heart when you realised he was so concerned you wouldn’t feel the same way about him, and you opened your mouth to speak. As you did, Jisung’s gaze dropped down to your lips, and your words suddenly got caught in your throat. You became uncomfortably aware of the thundering of your heart against your rib cage, and how close you actually were to the boy who just confessed his crush on you.

Without a second thought, you leaned in towards Jisung, and watched with hidden surprise as he subconsciously followed your movement. You reached up and cradled his jaw, pulling him closer to you until your lips finally touched. His lips were soft and tasted of a faint mix of coffee and peach, likely the drink and possibly a lip balm he used. Jisung was hesitant at first - you got the feeling this was his first kiss because he wasn’t moving at all - but you took the lead as Jisung remembered to actually close his eyes and enjoy the moment.

He was nervous, and the feeling of your breath against his own was sensual, but for the first time he didn’t feel shy being this vulnerable around someone. He placed a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer, and smiled into the kiss, ignoring the furious beating of butterfly wings in his stomach. The kiss was short, but sweet, and when you pulled away you spotted a fine blush covering Jisung’s whole face, the bright shade unmissable even in the dark lighting.

Jisung held his eyes shut for a few moments longer, as if he was trying to burn the memory of the kiss into his brain. When he finally opened his eyes, his gaze met your own and, as if you were watching in slow motion, the content smile fell from his face and was replaced by a look of utter fear.

“I’m sorry, I- I need to go,” he spluttered as he shot up from your bed, Saja groaned loudly at the sudden movement, and Jisung raced out of your room without a second glance back.

Saja looked over at you, and you could imagine your dog was wondering why the hell his human friend had left so abruptly. You simply stared back, your mind quickly filling with confusion and the heavy feeling of regret and shame thanks to Jisung’s strange reaction.

Puppy Love [part eleven]

Description: When you move into a new apartment, you’re pleasantly surprised to find out your neighbours are all attractive. Really attractive. You find yourself developing a crush on one of your said neighbours when he offers to help you train your dog, Saja, but you quickly realise he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing...

A/N: I have not felt the touch of another human being in the whole 20 years of my existence so I hope that kiss scene was okay and at least semi-accurate to a real life kiss lmao i'm so lonely

Taglist: @whosyourmama @chubbsdabunny @peachhyun @jising-jisang-jisung @bangpink123 @hiqhkey

#nct #nct dream #nct social media au #nct dream social media #nct2020 #jisung #park jisung #jisung nct #nct jisung #jisung x reader #renjun #jeno #jaemin #chenle #jisung imagine #jisung scenario

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zombolouge · 3 years

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⭐⭐⭐!! I'm behind on catching up with Indefensible (bc I am also in the US and have been Big Overwhelmed too, so sending positive mental health vibes your way as well), so I will leave it to you to pick a part of a fic that you are most dying to discuss!

AH bb take your time catching up, there’s no rush!! It will still be there whenever you’re ready <3 I will send some positive mental health vibes right back at you, lord knows all of us in the US really need them lol

Okay, so my pick for this...hmmm, why don’t we talk about TRAUMA. I’ve had a lot of people comment about how I handle everyone’s trauma in the series, so I figure that’s a solid point of interest :)

I knew I was going to be writing this fic before I had actually played all the games, which gave me a bit of an advantage from a writing perspective because I actually took a HUGE amount of notes while I played. The most important of these notes were pages that I called “Lists of Trauma”. And I had one for every character. I would set them up every time I saw something in the games that would have been potentially traumatic, including backstory stuff that came to light. Then I’d write down what the trauma was, when it occurred, and how I felt it would affect them (both immediately and long term).

Pretty much everybody gets that Miles Edgeworth is traumatized. The game does a decent job of showing some of that, by giving him PTSD and mentioning his fear of elevators, using his recurring nightmares as a plot point, etc. But Miles is by FAR not the only one in the series traumatized. Pretty much every case is enough to send someone to therapy for a hell of a long time, but it’s not always highlighted as much as Miles, and I think it’s easy to brush everyone else’s trauma under the rug because their coping methods were a little more understated. I do think the evidence is there in the games, but it’s not obvious (Capcom puts a lot more subtlety in there than I initially would have expected. Either that or I’m adding subtext on my own and giving them too much credit. EITHER WAY, it did give me a lot to study and pick apart.)

One of the biggest themes in my writing is addressing and processing trauma (lol can you tell I have trauma I have worked on processing? hahaha). I tend to lean towards doing it in healthy and productive ways, as well, so I was HYPERFOCUSED on all the events happening to each individual character. By the end of the canon storylines, I had a pretty solid idea of what people still needed to work through and how things were holding them back, which is honestly how I arrived at some of the plotlines I did. They’re all engineered to be ways to push the characters where they need to be in order to heal. Or at least to grow (full healing is gonna take decades and y’all I can’t be writing this for the rest of my life haha)

In some cases, like with Phoenix and Miles and their relationship, I knew that it was going to involve a massive breaking point to get them anywhere. It’s been decades in game-time and they haven’t taken very many steps forward, which tells me that repression is so ingrained you basically have to make them completely snap and land in a place of “nothing left to lose” before they’d take any more steps. Hence the remote location and the cold temperatures and them working together and the closet scene and the hot tub scene and the spit-take scene and the obvious trap and...etc. Really had to slam their damn heads together repeatedly for this one.

But their trauma, while being some of the most obvious, wasn’t the only kind I wanted to address. Like, seeing everything play out with Apollo and Dhurke, I just kept thinking how fuckin badly that would mess someone up, and that isn’t even considering what he’d gone through BEFORE that (former boss was a murderer, and the ways he found out weren’t the softest. Best friend murdered, and the circumstances around it ended up with him getting physically injured TWICE. There’s a lot going on with that poor boy.) And Maya, who is forever cheery in the games, always struck me as someone who hid any negative emotions at all costs, and holy shit she has to have a few. She’s been accused of murder, manipulated by family, her sister was murdered, she had to raise her cousin from a young age, she’s been kidnapped MULTIPLE TIMES, had her body taken over by someone that DEFINITELY wanted to kill her and her best friend. On top of that, the first games make it pretty clear she has some inferiority issues, and alllll those traumatic situations would have only fed into it. I think she got really good at covering that up rather than really good at feeling confident.

Pretty much all the characters got trauma’d at one point or another, and the timeline over the span of canon basically meant that nobody ever had much time to recover before some other bullshit was happening. It’s why many of the characters in Indefensible, sometimes more than once, have opined about it being neverending or how they were losing hope that they’d ever have a whole year that was just normal.

I’ve included so many scenes where they are just breaking down and talking about feelings, because holy fuck they all need to. lol It’s also why I ended up jumping on the FranMaya bandwagon so hard because the way that the pair of them are traumatized and how they handle it is very complementary to each other. I think they’re both able to pull the dark out and soothe it within one another, keep each other from overthinking things, and provide a sudden rock to lean on when things get difficult again. If they didn’t have each other, I think the second half of Indefensible wouldn’t work as well, because Franziska absolutely would have snapped irreparably. But, uh, that won’t make as much sense until later. ;)

Anyways, this was long and rambly and I could probably make a separate post about each individual character’s trauma and how the fic is designed to shine a spotlight on it and get them to start processing it. I THINK ABOUT THIS STUFF A LOT, OKAY?

Link to the fic if anybody needs it: Indefensible

#zombolouge writes #ace attorney #indefensible #fanfiction #talkin bout trauma #I spent SO MUCH TIME picking apart their behavior in relation to their trauma #hopefully it's paying off as people read hehe #Anonymous

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casper-writes-stuff · 4 years

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I Think I’m In Love

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921265

Summary: Virgil falls for Roman, and the realization hits him pretty hard. But... It's not a scary realization, like he thought it would be.

In which I'm five days late for Virgil's birthday, but here's his birthday fic that got way out of hand. I went into this expecting like no plot and Virgil simply thinking about how gay he is for Roman and then Roman refused to be ignored and it just kind of went from there. I've dedicated this to Max ( @max-is-tired) cause honestly? They've helped me get out of my writing funk lately and also they've been super excited for me to finish it since I sprung the idea for the fic on them in the first place lmao.

It wasn’t exactly a soft realization, when Virgil had it. It wasn’t like Patton telling him he loved him so much, and that he wouldn’t know what to do without his friendship. It wasn’t like Logan handing him a book on something Virgil was really interested in, wanting to discuss it with him and Virgil figuring out that was Logan telling him that he loved him like a brother. Nothing with Remus was soft, but realizing Virgil cared about him, too, wasn’t nearly as jarring as this.

Honestly, realizing how much he loved each of his friends never hit Virgil quite as hard as it did when he realized he was in love with one Roman Grimm. It was like a bag of bricks dropped from a few feet straight onto his chest.

Virgil had come up with a particularly creative insult and it had left Roman keeled over, wheezing so hard all that was escaping his mouth was high pitched noises, not a breath of air between them. He’d crossed his arms in triumph, feeling like he’d won that days bickering.

It took him all of ten seconds before he realized his expression wasn’t the smirk he’d been going for, but an overly sappy, love-filled smile at Roman’s laughter. And that’s when the bricks dropped and all air rushed out of his lungs, his eyes widening as he watched Roman gather himself.

He… didn’t run. Didn’t even consider it before Roman had recovered, made a comment that prompted Virgil into a response that sent him cackling again. While the conversation continues, Virgil thinks.

He thinks about his last venture into the dating world, and how it ended in such a massive disaster that he did his best to jade himself to feeling like that again, because what’s the point of butterflies when they’re only going to rip through your heart on their way out?

But… being around Roman doesn’t give him butterflies. Strangely enough, Virgil feels like he’s the one with wings, when he’s with the flamboyant actor. Being with Roman makes Virgil feel like he could do anything he wanted to, so long as he had him by his side. Doesn’t matter that they’d be bickering and insulting each other the entire journey. If anything, that’d make Virgil feel more confident that he can actually pull it off, whatever it was he decided to do that day.

And honestly, now that he’s thinking about it, Virgil gets kind of reckless when he and Roman are in the same vicinity. Dee has even pointed out to him before a venture into an abandoned amusement park to go ghost hunting that Roman had an easier time convincing Virgil to do something stupid and kind of dangerous than Patton did trying to get him to sleep.

Virgil had, naturally, told him to shove that stick in his ass down his own throat. He may be spending a little too much time with Roman’s brother, if he was being honest with himself. Dee had only scoffed, rolling his eyes before letting Virgil leave the house to meet up with an eccentric blond.

That venture into the old, rusty amusement park was one of the best nights of Virgil’s life, if he didn’t count being almost crushed to death under an unsteady beam in one of the haunted houses. He and Roman had so much fun getting scared shitless by every creak and groan of the old rides. The funhouse mirrors had sent Virgil into laughing fits when every single one somehow only showed Roman as his normal self while he himself got the different appearances.

Thinking back on it, there was definitely a ghost fucking with them that entire adventure, but Virgil was having too much fun exchanging witty insults with Roman to really care. He’d had fun, and really wasn’t that something? Cause Virgil… Virgil didn’t have fun. He mildly enjoyed things while anxiety tickled the back of his mind, making him overthink every single action that was a result of him not thinking enough. The anxiety faded, the longer he knew the people he hung out with regularly, but it never really went away long enough for him to forget it was there until something that needed it happened.

Virgil was about to start thinking about how Roman managed to get him out from under the old rotting wood of a support beam before the haunted house got worse when Roman himself interrupted his thinking.

“Virgil. Vee. V-Man. Very Unimportant. Walking Existential Crisis. Vladimir--”

“Roman if you finish equating to me to the president of Russia, your face will no longer be as pretty as you think it is,” Virgil interrupted, his eyes finally focusing back on Roman’s expression. Which was filled with a confused concern.

Oh shit, did he space out?

“Well sorry, you stopped responding to me for a minute there, and your face went from all “Roman is a dumbass” smirk to some kind of mushy, gooey grin.”

Virgil scrunched up his nose in disgust at the comparison.

“Ew. Don’t ever call me mushy or gooey again, and I’ll let you live.”

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes at Virgil’s false disgust of all things soft.

Which, rude. Virgil had a reputation, he couldn’t just let himself be called mushy. What would his pretend fans think!

“I’d like to see you try and kill me, Very Short. You can’t even reach my shoulders without my assistance, you think you can aim for my heart from all the way down there?”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed while Roman’s grin widened, turning into a challenge.

There was exactly two beats of silence before Roman bolted for the door, Virgil chasing after him.

Virgil stops thinking about his feelings after that, stops thinking beyond strategy to capture Roman and somehow give him the biggest noogie of his life for daring to bring up Virgil’s height.

And it just kind of… continues. Virgil feels comfortable around Roman in a way he hadn’t before, despite Virgil never thinking he was ever uncomfortable around him prior to his revelation. Maybe it’s because he’s aware of the feelings now, and he recognizes his actions for what they are; pure, genuine affection and romantic attraction.

Over the next few weeks, Virgil can’t help but test the waters a little bit. He starts flirting back when Roman sends him some stupid pick up line he thinks is funny. Several times they’ve gone for hours, trying out-flirt each other and many times Virgil has won because Roman can’t let go of the overly ridiculous lines that focus on sex and Virgil is actually flirting so Roman eventually gets too flustered to continue.

Along with the flirting he gets… a lot more touchy. It’s not exactly subtle, nor is it obvious the touching is another result of his discovery, considering it’s really just Virgil letting himself rise to a lot of the bait Roman lays out for a playful fight. Patton definitely notices though, and the conversation that leads to is awkward at best, mortifying at worse.

And no, he doesn’t really feel like recounting that event in his memories.

It’s two days before his birthday when his brother and Roman’s brother trap him in Dee’s room with them to confront him.

“You know, you could’ve just asked to talk to me in private instead of hooking your arms around mine to drag me in here,” Virgil comments after flopping on his back on the carpeted floor beneath him. Dee and Remus had both taken advantage of their heights, and Virgil hadn’t really been able to keep his feet under him so when they let him go he’d fallen on his ass and who was he to pass up the opportunity to lay down?

“Yes, but that wasn’t nearly as much fun as dragging you in here like we were going to torture you for information!”

Virgil huffs a breath of air, trying to get his bangs out of his eyes enough so he could give Remus a curious look.

“Okay, and why are you torturing me for information?”

Dee cuts in, then. “Because you’re so open with us, Virgil.”

Virgil narrows his eyes in a glare at his older brother.

“You’re point, Monty the Python?”

Dee rolls his eyes at the nickname, crossing his arms.

“Our point, V-Section, is that you’re acting weird around my brother and he may not have noticed but we have,” Remus butts in with an irritated huff.

Virgil blinks, staring at his brother’s best friend for a solid thirty seconds before he speaks up.

“Was that… Did you just call me a C-Section but with the first letter of my name?” he asks, utterly bewildered. Usually Remus was a lot gorier or NSFW with his nicknames for others, and he didn’t usually relate their name back to it like Roman did.

“Did you really just totally ignore everything Remus said after that?” Dee asked, exasperated with the thing Virgil chose to focus on rather than the important part.

Virgil shrugged, shifting his feet so his knees were in the air and bringing his hands to rest on his stomach.

“I mean, yeah? It’s not like I’m really trying to keep my actions a secret, guys. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t say anything sooner? It’s been, what, two months since I actually started flirting with him?”

Dee blinks in surprise at Virgil’s admission.

“...That’s it? You’re not going to fight us on this?” he asks, skeptical of how easy Virgil was taking this. He was quite literally taking it lying down.

“Yeah? Why would I fight you on this?” Virgil asked, raising his torso up on his elbows to better stare at them in confusion.

Genuine confusion.

Jesus Christ.

“Probably because when you dated Chris and he criticized literally everything you did and liked you broke down after he dumped you and told everyone you wouldn’t let yourself interact with romance again?” Remus said, confused by Virgil’s confusion.

“Ah. That. Well, it’s whatever. In the past, literally years ago at this point. Why should I let it bother me now?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Was Dee’s immediate response, panic that was almost genuine ringing clear through his words.

Sighing, Virgil flopped back onto the ground, ignoring the slight burning on his elbows from sliding them against the carpet. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, arms spread wide and knees knocking together as he thought (he’d been doing so much thinking lately).

“I know, not exactly something you’d expect me to say, as someone with generalized and social anxiety disorders. But… I don’t like Roman, the way I liked Chris. With Chris, things were fast but they felt kind of forced after a while. I mean yeah, it was fun making fun of people with him, but he didn’t exactly stop at other people, or even me. He criticized himself, and I felt a kinship in that, I guess. I felt like he’d relate to me on my worse nights. I dated him more because I thought he’d understand the feelings because he went through them too.”

Remus and Dee looked at each other as Virgil trailed off, obviously lost in thought. They let the silence go for a minute before Remus got impatient.

“Okay, then how is my brother different than Crucifixion?” he asked, impulsively grabbing one of Dee’s hands to play with his fingers see how long he could squeeze them together before he pulled his hand away.

Virgil still didn’t look at them, instead choosing to smile softly at the ceiling and wow, if that wasn’t a strange look to see on his brother.

“With Roman it’s like… it’s like coming home after a long day of bullshit. It’s a huge relief, I get to unwind from my stress by focusing on something else that I enjoy exponentially more than talking to other people. Instead of overly stressing about how someone reacted to this action, or what to say next to avoid pissing people off, I get to focus on just being in the moment and enjoying myself. It just… feels like home, loving him.”

“Well, slap my ass and call my Lucifer, cause hell must have just frozen over,” Remus says, making Virgil freeze as what he just said sinks in.

“Well. Guess that answers that question, then,” Dee comments, finally pulling his hand away when Remus scrunches his hand in a way that shoots pain through the back of it, making Remus grin at him.

Virgil makes a noise, but Dee can’t really identify what it is, now that Virgil has covered his face with his hands. Granted, that really does nothing to obscure the way his neck and ears have turned red, and if Dee guessed, his face was probably just as bad.

“Remus, I think we should let Virgil stew in his words by himself now.”

Remus perks at that. “Oh! Can we go to the creek? I think I saw a dead squirrel there yesterday and I wanna see how much it’s decomposed.”

Dee sighed, but nodded, turning away from his brother as his best friend bounded out of the room in excitement.

Virgil let out a groan as he listened to Dee and Remus leave, noting the lack of the door clicking shut. Guess it was left open then, probably to urge Virgil out of Dee’s room faster.

Well… he may as well accept that he just admitted Out Loud to his brother and friend that he was in love with Roman. Not like it was information he didn’t already know, he just… hadn’t really anticipated telling them it was something beyond a stupid crush.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil uncovered his face and made quick work of getting himself off the floor so he could actually go chill out in his room like he’d been planning to do before he was ambushed outside of the bathroom.

Honestly, Virgil really shouldn’t have expected Dee and Remus leaving him alone after his admission would mean they would just leave him alone about the topic altogether. Especially now that it was his birthday, and Roman was coming over in five minutes and Remus was giving him a wide unsettling grin.

Usually, that wouldn’t mean anything. Except it was paired with Dee’s self-satisfied smirk as he swung his keys around his finger to entertain himself while he waited.

Virgil glared at the two of them from his spot on the kitchen counter (he’s gay and has anxiety, you couldn’t pay him to sit properly on a chair. Or in a chair regardless).

“What are you two up to? I swear to God, if it’s a surprise party, I will skin you both,” Virgil hisses.

Remus goes to respond, fully prepared to get into a competition with Virgil on who can come up with more creative threats, but Roman bursts in at that exact second, and Virgil slinks off the counter to go meet him at the door, shooting Dee another harsh glare over his shoulder.

“I’m here, Charlotte’s Web!”

Virgil couldn’t help the small smile that formed at the classic nickname, shaking his head as he stopped in the doorway leading in and out of the kitchen.

“Hey, Caesar Salad,” Virgil greeted, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket and forcing his smile into a more lopsided smirk as Roman looked up at him.

Roman paused for a second, staring at Virgil like he’d just seen something he hadn’t before, making Virgil quirk a brow in question. Instead of an explanation, Roman just cleared his throat and finished maneuvering a large brown paper bag through the gap between his leg and the doorframe.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked, stepping forward to help Roman out by grabbing the thing he wasn’t struggling with--his jacket.

Roman glared at Virgil, who only smirked in response before huffing as he managed to get the bag through without ripping it.

“You’re birthday present if you must know, Gerard Gay.”

Roman was rewarded with a snort as Virgil turned back into the kitchen, gesturing for Roman to follow with a wave of his hand.

Entering the kitchen, Roman let out a long groan.

“Remus, what are you and Rumplesnakeskin doing here?”

“I live here, Roman,” Dee responded before Remus could, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but you’re never here when I’m here, and if you are, you always make a quick getaway. You’re up to something, Jafaar, and I don’t like it.”

Virgil couldn’t help but agree with Roman, going back to glaring at the two as he hopped back up on the counter to get comfortable.

“Plus, you both have been giving me your evil plotting smiles all morning.”

Roman shuttered. “Oh yeah, something’s definitely up. Spit it out Dr. Gloom and William Snakespere. What foul deeds are you planning today?”

Remus snorts at that, pulling a recorder out of his pocket. One of those old handheld ones you see in movies when the main character needs proof of something that was said. Something he must have gotten from Logan.

Something he probably had two days ago.

Virgil froze, eyes zeroing in on the recorder. The next thing he knew, he was launching himself off the counter in Remus’ direction, reaching for the device in hopes of either grabbing it or making Remus drop it so it’d break on the ground.

Neither of those things happened, considering Remus seemed to anticipate Virgil’s reaction as he gave a gleeful squeal, leaping onto the table and holding the recorder high above his head, out of Virgil’s reach.

Virgil had no qualms getting on the table, but before he could, Dee stopped him.

“Virgil, that table can only handle so much weight, do you really want to incur both of our moms’ wrath by breaking the table when we’re only visiting?”

Roman watched as Virgil was clearly panicking at the fact that Remus had a recorder in his hand, gaze switching between Remus and Dee and Virgil as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, other than the fact you guys have recorded something Virgil clearly doesn’t want me to hear, but I’d honestly really rather you didn’t force him into sharing something he’s not ready to share yet,” Roman said, crossing his arms after dropping the bag on the floor.

Remus let out a loud whine at that. “C’mon, Roman! I thought you’d be curious to know what we’ve found out.”

Roman shrugged at that, looking to Virgil, who was currently staring at him with wide eyes. He met the look with a small smile.

“Yeah, of course I’m curious. You guys know I hate being left out of the loop, but Virgil doesn’t want me to know right now. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll never want me to know. And even if it does, I’ll respect that. My curiosity is not an excuse to betray his trust like that.”

“I love you.”

Roman blinked in shock at the words that suddenly left Virgil’s mouth, and if the surprise on Virgil’s face was anything to go by, Virgil hadn’t expected to say them either.

Silence filled the kitchen for a few minutes before Remus let out a resigned sigh.

“Well that just took all the fun out of this. Dee let’s go to the park so I can scare some kids.”

Dee shook his head at his best friend as he hopped off the table.

“We’re not scaring children again, Rem. The last time we nearly got kicked out of the park for good, and I know that one is your favorite for corpse hunting.”

Dee’s words trailed off until the door closed behind the two friends as Roman and Virgil continued to stare at each other.

“...I love you too.”

Virgil’s face immediately lit on fire, and he let out an embarrassed sound, but didn’t move from his spot leaning against the table, knee halfway on top of it from when Dee had stopped him.

Roman couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

“Was that what Remus wanted me to hear?” he asked, shifting to sit on a counter (a habit he gained from Virgil, though he was more prone to sitting in actual chairs, he sat on whatever surface was closest to him).

Virgil finally shifted his leg off the table, clearing his throat as he collapsed onto the floor, legs spread out before him while he leaned back on his hands.

“...Yeah. Yeah it was. Though the recording probably had a lot more embarrassing stuff on it, I doubt they only recorded the last bit of that conversation.”

Roman nodded, tapping his fingers against the hard surface of the counter.

“To be completely honest, I had my suspicions when you started flirting back? But I didn’t really want to say anything in case you stopped, or I was wrong.”

Virgil groaned, letting his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling.

“Yeah, that started like a week after I figured it out. Remember when you called me mushy and gooey and I threatened your weak life form?”

Roman snorted. “Yeah, I remember. And excuse you, you’re the one with a weak life form Virgil.”

Virgil squinted at Roman then. “Roman. You’re allergic to cats. And chili peppers.”

“You’re lactose intolerant!” Roman protested, earning a smirk.

“Yeah? Do you see me avoiding dairy, Roman? I have chugged an entire gallon of milk, Princey. You really think something as stupid as milk inolerance is going to stop me?”

The bickering continued, them not really acknowledging their feelings beyond the initial declarations of love.

Which was fine with Virgil. They didn’t need to label anything just yet, and it’s not like Virgil was really into physical affection beyond cuddling anyway, so nothing really would change between them, label or not.

And if they held hands more often, or teased each other with pet names they didn’t dare do before, then that was really nobody’s business, was it?

#jo writes #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts deceit #ts remus #prinxiety #remus typical creativity #friendly bullying #and by that i mean virgil and roman make fun of each other a whole lot #empty death threats #short jokes #there's definitely a ghost in this #and the ghost is definitely joan #but like it's so brief

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firstdate-lastdate · 3 years

Text

Karma is a Cold Bitch

I held off writing this story for a long time. At the time, it was truly one of the meanest things someone had done to me, and I’d be lying if I said my feelings weren’t seriously hurt. I wanted to find a way to tell this story without garnering an influx of pity. This happened years ago, so like I said- don’t feel bad for me. I get myself into these situations. I was totally blind to the red flags waving wildly in my face from the start. Warning: you will cringe. I will cringe. We will all cringe together.

This guy reached out to me the only way that guys in Los Angeles know how- Instagram direct message. We had some mutual friends so his message wasn’t totally out of the blue. We messaged back and forth for a few weeks. I found out he makes music and has a good sense of humor. I’m a sucker for anyone who can make me laugh. Plus, he’s from my neighboring hometown, so it seemed like we had a lot in common.

One day over the summer, I was bored out of my mind. Legitimately all of my friends were out of town. I was apartment-sitting for them. He FaceTimed me, invited me over, and hit me with one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard to date: “do you want to fall in love today?”

Yes, you read that right. And yes, I did go over. I told him I was working on some stuff (writing a blog entry, about his friend HA) so I brought over my computer to get my work done. He was working on some his music, so it all worked out. From the second I came over, he had his own music playing. Nonstop.

We did some stuff around the area: went to Trader Joe’s, went to the car wash, kissed on his rooftop. I don’t mean like a nicely renovated rooftop with a pool and seating area, I mean like a roof that was not meant for people to visit. We crawled up on a small brick half-wall, and pebbles got stuck in my feet. There was a very suspicious single plastic lounge chair that seemed out-of-place, in retrospect. I doubt I’m the first girl he’s brought to this lounge chair.

Despite it all, I enjoyed myself. It was fun to be spontaneous and not overthink things for once. I felt comfortable kissing him, and he might be the only person in the world more affectionate than I am. Everything seemed to be going fine. A few of my friends warned me to be careful, but I took him at face value. I was having fun. Simple as that.

A few days later, he invited me to a house party after I got off work. The party was totally normal, except for the fact that every single person there had multi-million Instagram followers, blue check marks, and some even featured on Ellen. I felt very out of place.

He asked if I wanted to sleepover at his place, and I said sure, that it sounded like fun. There I was, having fun, enjoying myself, and not thinking too far into it.

All of that was fine. We stayed up late kissing, talking, and watching tv. The next morning we woke up around noon. Not five minutes later, his roommates came busting through the front door shouting, “we’re going to Vegas! We’re seeing two YouTubers get married! We’re leaving in five minutes! Either you’re coming or you’re not!”

(2021 note: the two YouTubers in question have since divorced. The night prior, the guy mocked me for enjoying these specific YouTuber’s content. Twelve hours later, he’s jumping at a chance to attend their massive wedding party. I digress.)

I gathered my things to head home. I packed up my purse and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to decide whether or not to go on the road trip. I was not invited nor was I prepared to drop everything a poorly planned Vegas trip. I also know better than to invite myself to an invite-only event. Meanwhile, people were walking in, walking out, on the phone, on FaceTime, sorting out last minute details for this spontaneous trip. The entire apartment was pure chaos. I quietly checked my phone, staying out of the way, still waiting on a decision.

I got lost in whatever social media I was checking, and time escaped me. It must have been about five minutes of total silence before I noticed- it was a little too quiet. The front door was still open, so I figured the group must just be packing up the car. At the moment, I received a FaceTime call. From this guy. From inside a moving vehicle.

I went blind with rage. The guy had left me, alone in his apartment, in his bed, door wide open, failed to say goodbye, for a clout chasing trip to Vegas. I said some less-than-polite things on that call, and left the apartment, deliberately not closing the door behind me. I got about 5 steps out of the apartment, still on FaceTime, when I realized, I could raid the closet and help myself to anything that helps me sleep better at night. So that’s what I did. And then I actually left. Door wide open. I could have and probably should have done worse, but I was blinded by my own rage.

The next few days were filled with a lot of wine, Hannah B’s season of the Bachelorette, and multiple phone calls in attempt to help this person understand the basics of human decency. The wine and the reality tv made the phone calls about one hundred times more dramatic than necessary, but hey, that’s part of the flair. I legitimately heard Hannah B in my ear saying- “I’m about to go psycho.” on repeat. Which is exactly what I did. The words “cold bitch” may have been used to describe me. He wasn’t wrong.

Many months and multiple apologies later (even a short song ~inspired~ by me), I let him take me to a Chainsmokers concert. Not FIVE seconds into the drive, someone hit his beloved vintage car on a busy street and ran.

That’s when I knew karma is a cold bitch.

#dating #comedy #single

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Ink

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which memories are like tattoos.

Word count: 7.5k

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

Wattpad link

“Y/N! Love!”

Eighteen-year-old Y/N rose from the dirty floor and rushed to the entrance. From the treehouse, she saw her boyfriend standing right by the fence with his hands in his pockets and a confused little grin on his face.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, but she had already reached for the ladder.

“I’ll-I’ll come down.”

Y/N was flustered, but not because she was embarrassed her boyfriend had found her in her neighbour’s treehouse. Blake didn’t know about Harry. Well, not her Harry — her childhood best friend, her first kiss, her first love. He only knew about Harry, the famous actor who used to live on her street. Everyone in that town had heard of him though not everyone knew him for the same reasons she did.

Y/N guessed that was why she kept coming back to his yard, to their place. Harry might be in London, but a part of him stayed in Holmes Chapel, in those leaves, in their house. Maybe she had somehow got over him in the last four years and didn’t feel as hurt when her parents brought him up by accident. But every time her parents got into a fight, she would just run back to this place to seek comfort.

“What were you doing up there?” Blake asked as he helped her get back on the ground.

“I was just…looking for a place to be alone.”

“So you snuck into your neighbour’s treehouse?” The boy scoffed, he wasn’t making fun of her, he was just trying to understand. And as much as she wanted to explain it to him, she honestly didn’t know where to begin.

“I used to hang out with the kid next door so this place holds a lot of my childhood memories,” she said after a quiet moment. “I’ll be leaving it soon so I was...reminiscing I guess.”

“Oh, you had a childhood best friend? You’ve never mentioned her.”

Him, said the voice inside her head, but she only gave her boyfriend a smile.

“Well, the person moved away a long time ago,” was all she could say, and Blake didn’t ask any other questions about her mysterious neighbour.

She hoped she wasn’t acting too weird, but then she realised there was also something not right about Blake that day. He seemed different. She’d known him for almost two years so she knew when his happiness was real and when it was not. Right now, he was trying too hard to look cheerful that it hurt.

“Sit down with me,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her down on the grass. She saw in his eyes the same look she’d seen in Harry’s on the night he left, and she felt a massive lump in her throat, knowing she wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen.

“I-I just got my acceptance letter this morning.”

That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, but it was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. She felt as if an invisible weight was lifted off her chest, and she squealed with elation before hugging him tightly.

“Congratulations, baby, you’re going to ULaw! Where are you gonna live next year? I’ll rent a flat nearby so we can--”

“I’m not going to ULaw. I got accepted into Yale.”

This answer, however, broke her into a million pieces.

She sat there, gawking at him for a moment until her brain could finally process what he’d just said.

“‘Yale’ Yale?” she asked.

“Yeah…” Blake pressed his lips into a nervous smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was so sure I wouldn’t get in and I didn’t want to hype you up and then let you down. But now that I’ve got in, it feels like...like I’ve betrayed you and--”

“No, no, don’t...don’t apologise for getting into Yale.”

“I’m not apologising for getting into Yale, silly.” He grabbed her shoulders, their eyes met. “I’m apologising for not being honest with you.”

She held his stare. His eyes were the perfect shade of winter grey, no wonder why they made her feel cold even when summer had not even begun.

She bit her lip, feeling her heart slowly sink and eventually hit the bottom of her chest as Blake let go of her shoulders to hold her hands.

“I know...I’ve promised a lot of things, that we’ll both move to London and...and be together everyday and always. But now, I--Look, you can be mad at me. If you hate me, I-I understand.”

“I can’t be mad at you, you know that,” she said, laughing. “If anything...I-I’m just...I’m just so proud of you...and I’m happy for you too. I mean, it’s ‘Yale’ Yale.”

But Yale was in the United States. And she would be in London. And despite all the things she’d just said, she almost begged him to please don’t go, please stay with her, please go to ULaw so they could be together everyday and always, like how he’d promised. But then she stopped herself just in time.

“I’ll fly back every once in a while to see you, I—We will figure this out together, we’ll make it work—”

“Blake.”

The way she said his name stopped him at once. He looked at her intently, and it seemed like he already knew what she was going to say.

“No, we won’t, Blake...You know we can’t…”

Y/N was now staring at a yellow petal resting on her shoe, but she could feel him loosen his grip and eventually let go of her hands.

Blake must have come here with the hope that she would say yes to a long-distance relationship as long as they got to stay together, as long as she wasn’t mad at him for leaving England, for leaving her. But she wasn’t mad at him for putting his future first, still, she knew better than to believe two eighteen-year-olds could make this whole thing work and live happily ever after.

She’d been hurt before. She’d seen how it’d gone with her parents. She didn’t want to risk another heartbreak.

She'd said what needed to be said, now she was waiting for him to disagree. He was always good at that, disagreeing. And for someone so opinionated like Blake to stay silent like this, it could only mean that he agreed with her entirely. He knew they could never work, and no matter what daydream he was in, it was time for him to wake up.

After a long moment of silence so each could think on their own, Blake said, “so this is goodbye then…”

When Blake was sad, he bit his lip a lot. Y/N had noticed that at the beginning of their relationship, and now she could not ignore it.

The only thing she could do for him then was to stop herself from crying as they shared one last kiss. If he thought she didn’t love him as much as he loved her, it’d be slightly easier for him to go. At least that was what she wanted to believe in.

But then she collapsed onto the ground right after he had left, holding her face and weeping like a child. She had never admitted that she needed someone, but she needed him. And she loved him. She loved him a lot. Sadly, those were the things Blake would never get to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me, Blake!”

Y/N blinked twice and found herself still standing in that hallway. Blake was still there, gazing at her in concern and probably thinking she didn’t remember who he was. Oh, how she wished that had been the case. It would’ve been so much easier if he’d been so easy to forget.

“Blake, wow...” she breathed, faking a smile. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Is it a good thing?” He arched an eyebrow.

She let out a shaky laugh and gave a shrug. “It is, yeah. Well, you do look older but...still pretty much the same guy.”

“Thank you.” The corners of his lips turned up.

There it is, she thought, that infamous grin.

He was definitely real and she needed to stop pinching her arm and hoping she’d wake up in her bed and this was only a fever dream.

“Do you live here?” Blake asked, pointing to her door.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but all she could do was nod as her eyes fixated on the tattoo on the back of his hand, between his thumb and index finger. A little capital letter.

She remembered exactly where he’d got it and how he’d got it because she had written the first letter of her name and added the little heart beside it herself. She was there when he got it tattooed. And now, three years later, it was still on his skin.

“No way. I live right across!” Blake happily exclaimed as if it was a good thing to have an ex-girlfriend as his neighbour.

But maybe it was for him. Maybe she was looking at this from the wrong perspective. After all, they’d been friends before they were lovers, and this could just be a fun reunion of two friends. Maybe this feeling of awkwardness was only one-sided. Maybe he had put their breakup in the past, and he was never one of those petty boys who got their tattoos removed so they wouldn’t be reminded of their ex-girlfriend. Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe she should stop listening to the voice inside her head.

“Are you...moving back to England?” she asked, trying to sound as normal as she could and hoping he couldn’t see how she kept glancing back at his tattoo.

“Not really. I'm only back to visit my family and intern for this law firm, after that I'll go back to the States. Still have three more years to go. What about you?”

“Um...I’m in my final year.” She nodded, laughing a bit. “Look, I...It’s nice seeing you again and...well, since we’re neighbours, maybe we can...catch up another time? I just got back and I’m really exhausted...”

“Yeah, sure, it’s...it’s fine!” Blake rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lip. “I think I need some rest too. It’s been a long day...Oh wait, it’s already tomorrow!”

“From yesterday’s perspective, yes.”

"Okay. See you...after sunrise?”

“See you after sunrise,” she nodded and quickly turned away to unlock her door, wondering how she could get some sleep after that.

Blake wasn’t kidding when he said he’d see her after sunrise. When she left her flat at eight-thirty that morning, he was also heading out to go to work.

He looked so different that she almost didn’t recognise him. Now that she thought of it, she suddenly realised she had never seen him dress up like this before. She must admit that he looked good in a suit. It was dark blue which complemented the light colour of his eyes, and it must be expensive for it wasn’t so different from those Harry would wear. He appeared so mature and successful now, not so much the same boy she used to know.

“Hey, neighbour!” he said when both of them reached the staircase at the same time. “Off to class?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking impressed. “You look like a real lawyer now.”

The way he arched an eyebrow and adjusted his tie made her giggle. Her sudden cheerfulness seemed to have lightened up the mood, making the conversation flow more easily and less awkward than before.

They both figured that it was better to take baby steps, so they started with small talk about the weather, their jobs, their families, nothing about relationships though; but they might be getting there.

Once they had passed two floors, Blake blew out his cheeks and said, “do you know when they’ll have the lift fixed?”

“Probably never, so you better get used to this.” She snorted, but he didn’t seem so disappointed with the answer.

“It’s okay. We’d say goodbye faster if there was a lift so I’m fine with this.”

For a smooth-talker like Blake, he knew exactly how to shut down a conversation. Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at her own feet so he couldn’t see her blushing.

Was he flirting with her? Impossible. Blake would never flirt with someone who had a boyfriend.

But did Blake know she had a boyfriend? She hadn’t had a chance to bring up Harry. But Harry was famous so Blake must have known.

But what if Blake was one of those people who didn’t care about celebrities? To be fair, she had never heard about Harry and Ruby’s cheating scandal until she discovered it.

But why did she just assume Blake still had feelings for her? It’d been three years already. For all she knew, he might also be dating someone else.

Stop overthinking and start acting normal! she reminded herself, taking a deep breath as they walked out on the street together.

The morning light, gold and pale, painted Blake’s lips pink and hair ebony. His eyes were now an even lighter shade of grey. When they were still together, she had made him the protagonist in one of her stories and avoided using ‘grey’ to label the colour of his eyes. She thought ‘grey’ sounded so dull and lifeless, whereas Blake’s eyes were the opposite of those adjectives.

They were shiny like silver, cold like metal, but sometimes they were warm and reminded her of ashes and smoke blowing in the wind, coming from a fire that burned everything to the ground. And while looking into his eyes at the moment, she couldn’t help but think of that interesting comparison.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?” His voice, once again, pulled her out of her own head.

She immediately plastered a smile on her face. “Yes, I’m good. Maybe still a little sleepy.”

“Where are you parked?”

“Um...I’m-I’m actually taking the bus."

Tell him! Say, ‘my boyfriend usually gives me a ride but he’s busy today.’ Say it!

“I can give you a ride if you want,” Blake said before she could even open her mouth.

As she stood there, trying to figure out how to bring up her boyfriend at this point, a red Ferrari made a perfect turn onto their street like one of those movie scenes and pulled over right in front of them. She felt like Blake was going to say something about how flashy that was, but he didn’t get a chance as Harry stepped out of the vehicle, smiling when he saw her.

“Bambi!”

“H! Wha-What are you doing here?” she asked when he grabbed her face and pecked her lips twice.

“The meeting was pushed back an hour so I wanted to stop by to see you before I go,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. It was only then that he acknowledged Blake’s existence and the smile on his face slowly disappeared.

“Uh...This is my boyfriend, Harry,” Y/N quickly said before it got too awkward.

Blake gave an understanding nod, grinning from ear to ear as he said hello to the actor. Harry, on the other hand, only managed to hold a smile for two seconds before going back to looking like someone had stolen his Christmas presents.

“I’ve seen photos of you and Y/N everywhere. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

So Blake knows about Harry, she thought, still gawking at him, but then she snapped out of it once she realised her boyfriend still didn’t know who he was.

“This is...Blake,” was all she said, and it was enough to give Harry the same reaction she got when she first saw Blake in the hallway.

“I’m her new neighbour. I hope she’s also told you that we used to date.” Blake’s forwardness left Harry no choice but to break his silence.

“Yeah, she told me last year.” He nodded, lips pressed together forming an awkward straight line.

As Harry and Blake shook hands, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t see Blake’s tattoo and question about it later. But Harry’s eyes didn’t linger on their hands for longer than a second, so she thought he didn’t notice at all.

“I have to go now or I’ll miss the bus and be late,” she changed the subject to save all three of them from this mess, but it seemed like she was the only want who wanted out.

“I could give you a ride,” Blake quickly said. “The firm is pretty close to your campus so it won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, I don’t wanna bother you--”

“It’s okay, I’ll take her,” Harry spoke as he tugged slightly at her arm to get her attention. “I can just drive you there and go straight to the studio.”

“But won’t you be late?”

He opened his mouth to answer his girlfriend, but Blake was way faster this time. “It’s okay, mate. My car is right across the street.”

“Well, my car is right here.”

Y/N knew if she didn’t do something in the next five seconds, one of them would say something stupid, and at this point, she wasn’t sure which one. She pushed right past the guys, opened the door of Harry’s car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hurry up or we’ll all be late!” she said, crossing her arms.

Harry cracked a victorious grin as he politely said goodbye to the ex-boyfriend and rushed back to his Ferrari.

“I’ll see you later, Blake!” Y/N said, waving goodbye through the tinted window.

Blake stood on the pavement with a half-smile, one hand holding his suitcase, the other tucked inside his pocket. He stayed there to watch the Ferrari drive off until his reflection in the side-mirror was so small it could not be seen anymore.

Harry noticed that Y/N was quieter than usual. It made sense because she’d just found out her ex-boyfriend was her new neighbour, but she might also be mad at him for the way he had handled the encounter.

As Harry was finally calm enough to think, he realised it was a bit childish and selfish of him to have behaved like that. Hell, he was twenty-five years old. He should’ve known better. Now he couldn’t stop glancing back and forth between her and the road, trying to come up with something smart to say before he dropped her off.

“Don’t you just love this car?” he broke the silence and stole another glance at her. “I already told you, just take it. It’s old and I have other cars.”

“Harry.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“No, listen.” She sounded serious this time so he instantly shut his mouth before he fucked up again.

“I actually saw Blake at the club last night.”

When she blurted out those words, Harry was frozen in his seat. He blinked rapidly, confused and startled at the same time. He had so many questions, but Y/N didn’t give him a chance to ask.

“We didn’t speak though. I saw him and I followed him to see if it was him, then I bumped into Isaac and met that Emilia girl. I was going to tell you when I saw you, but then you apologised, and I freaked out so I spilt Isaac’s secret by accident. It was not until I returned to my flat later that I found out he was my new neighbour.”

“Oh, wow,” Harry breathed, resting his elbow on the window on his side as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was looking at the road but he could feel her eyes on him, studying his expression.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I know why you freaked out. I mean, I said a lot of crap when I came over last night.”

“So you’re okay with this?”

“Well, technically no, because I don’t like him.” His honesty made her snort. “But since we cannot get him evicted legally--”

“Harry, the guy’s a law student.”

“Shit.” Harry huffed as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I cannot run him over with this awesome car then.”

“Harry!” She swatted him on the arm, and he only gave a shrug, sticking out his bottom lip.

“What? He started it!”

“Oh please, and you were such an angel.”

“Thank you!”

She chuckled and playfully flipped him off.

“But jokes aside,” he went on, beaming. “I love you and trust you, so Blake, Isaac, whatever, no one will ever come between us again.”

“Speaking of Isaac…”

“No, no, we are not talking about this, Bambi.”

“We have to at some point!” She jolted right up, turning her whole upper body to the side. “Just please make up with Isaac. I feel terrible that you guys are not talking to each other because of me again.”

“This is not because of you.”

“Not directly!”

“Bambi,” Harry breathed out a laugh, shaking his head, “just calm down, kid. I promise I’ll talk to him...just...not now, all right?”

She looked at him and thought for a second before turning her eyes back to the road ahead.

“Don’t forget about the tattoo,” he said, making her flinch.

“Tattoo?!”

“Yeah,” he gave a nod, perplexed but also amused by her reaction. “I told you I was gonna get a new tattoo this afternoon and you said you wanted to tag along.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” She exhaled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her lips curved into a smile. “Sure, pick me up after your photoshoot.”

When they stopped at a red light and he turned to her, she was too distracted by a pedestrian and her funny-looking poodle to catch him looking. If she did, she would make fun of his stupid little ‘I’m so in love’ grin as always.

But what could he do? It wasn’t his fault that she looked so lovely every time she wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s so funny?”

Harry blinked fast. His cheeks turned red when she raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey, you’re doing that grin again.”

“You look lovely today,” he complimented and she stuck her nose up, putting her hands on her hips.

“Don’t I look lovely everyday?”

“Just say thank you.” He snorted and tapped her on the nose.

“Thank you,” Y/N said forcefully, giggling and turning back to the window on her side.

When the traffic light flicked to green, Harry drove ahead, but he was still wearing that same stupid grin.

"I'm gonna call you Bambi from now on."

Harry didn’t know what was funnier, the look on the little girl’s face when she heard the nickname, or the nickname itself. He’d only said it as a joke, but then he thought he should really start calling her that from now on.

To be honest, this little girl was quite lovely. He always hated kids who cried a lot, but apart from that, she was lovely.

"I have a name," she said with a pouty face, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's Y/N."

"I'm Harry. Harry Styles,” he said, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Bambi.”

Harry didn’t tell her and he assumed she didn’t know, but that little girl had shown up just in time to make him happy again, and therefore, he thought of her as his good luck charm. By the end of the night, Harry had forgotten the reason why he’d come to the treehouse in the first place.

It was around nine when the light on her back porch lit up and they heard her mother’s voice calling her home. Y/N got up, dusting off her clothes, but it seemed like she didn’t want to leave so soon.

“I have to go now,” she said from the entrance, and instead of leaving right away, she lingered there, waiting for something.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

That. She’d been waiting for that.

“Yes! I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight!” the little girl exclaimed before waving goodbye and reaching for the ladder to be on her way.

Under the moonlight, he saw her little figure dashing back toward the warm orange light on her back porch. She gave her mother a hug, said something and pointed to him. He smiled at them even though they probably couldn’t see him in the shadow, but then it occurred to him that he still had unfinished business at home, and he should probably get back.

The inside of his house was pitch dark so he assumed Gemma and his mum were already asleep. He quietly entered the house through the back door, tip-toeing from the kitchen to the stairs, but right before he could set foot on the first step, the light flicked on. He saw his sister standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile, putting him back at ease.

Earlier that night, Harry had watched this TV show in which they helped people reunite with their loved ones who’d been separated from them, so during dinner, he’d brought it up, saying those people might be able to help bring his dad back home.

Though Anne had said nothing, Gemma had come into his room later and told him he’d made their mother cry. Harry didn't know what he’d done wrong, yet Gemma kept on accusing him of being ignorant. The siblings had got into a fight about it, and Harry had run to the treehouse to be alone.

But he wasn’t angry at Gemma. Not anymore. He’d spent some time on his own reflecting and thinking before the little girl showed up, and he’d realized where it’d gone wrong.

He supposed it was the same for his sister. She must have felt bad for yelling at him so she’d been waiting for him to come back to have another talk about tonight.

“Where were you?” Gemma asked. She didn’t sound angry, only concerned, and he appreciated that.

“I was in the treehouse.”

He wasn’t sure if his answer had made her upset, but even if it had, she still wouldn’t let it show.

“Look, Gem,” he trailed off, fidgeting with his own fingers and marching toward her. “I’m sorry about earlier...I’ll apologise to mum in the morning.”

“It’s okay. Mum’s not mad at you.” Gemma beamed, lifting her shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay. I deserved that.”

“No, you didn’t know.” She breathed and stepped forward to hold his shoulders, slightly bending her knees so their eyes were at the same level as they spoke. “I know you want him to come back, and you think him coming back would fix everything. But it won’t. It’ll only make things more complicated. And our family is good without him. We’re not broken. We don’t need fixing.”

Harry chewed on his lip, thinking for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her this, but he couldn’t keep it in any longer otherwise he might explode.

“Did he leave because of me?”

“What? No!” Gemma shook her head, shocked by the question. “What made you think so?”

“He seemed to love you and mum,” Harry murmured, his eyes shifted to their feet. “He’d built this house for mum, made the treehouse in our yard for you. Mum said, ‘men don’t go building houses for just anyone, it has to be someone they love’. So I must be the reason he didn’t want to stay with us anymore.”

Gemma was quiet for a few seconds, then she let her arms fall back to her sides and exhaled sharply. “God, Harry. Was that what you’d been thinking this whole time? You thought you were the reason he left us?”

Harry replied with a nod.

“Was that why you wanted to find him? Because you felt responsible for him leaving?”

He nodded again, this time, glancing back up to meet his sister’s eyes.

Gemma had already teared up. She wrapped both arms around him, pulling him closer for a tight hug as if she wanted to squeeze all the air out of him.

“He fell out of love with all of us, Harry,” she trembled. “All of us, not just you.”

When Gemma pulled away, Harry feared she was going to cry even harder. He never knew what to do when he saw a girl cry. Thank God, his sister decided to dry her tears with her own sleeves and stand up straight, her eyebrows furrowed.

“He met someone else. He’s probably living his best life with her now,” she said, her face twisted. “Maybe...Maybe he also has new children, those that he really loves, and he doesn’t miss us at all. Trust me, we’re better off without a father like that.”

Harry clenched his jaw, nodding once and reaching for his sister’s hands. “You’re right, we don’t need him. I’ll take care of you and mum, I promise.”

When the boy said that, Gemma laughed, but not because she thought he couldn’t do it. She obviously believed in him. He guessed she was just happy that her thirteen-year-old brother could say something their father had never and would never say.

“All right,” she whispered. “We’re counting on you.”

“Hi, Gem, it’s me, Harry.”

“I know it’s you, idiot. I have your number.”

Harry chuckled at his sister’s remark and fell back onto the couch. It must have been nice to be where she was now, lying on a sunny beach in Bali and drinking coconut juice. Meanwhile, he was at another studio, waiting in his dressing room to get ready for another photoshoot and interview.

“I’ve been given a fifteen-minute break so I decided to call and check on you,” he said, smiling as he heard her laugh.

“Oh, I’m very flattered. I’m having a blast.”

Gemma seemed too happy, which was good, and bad at the same time. He wanted her to be happy, but with the kind of news he was about to tell her, it would’ve been easier if she had been a little less joyous. That was why he decided to give her some time to rant about the wonderful vacation she was having with her rich boyfriend’s family. Once she was done, however, it occurred to her that he’d been suspiciously quiet.

“So what’s up with you?” she asked. “Any fun update?”

He began with a deep breath which had partially given away the fact that she wouldn’t love what she was about to hear.

“Isaac...he...he’s found Winton.”

Gemma was quiet for such a long moment that he thought they’d lost connection.

“Winton?” she spoke at last, her voice was trembling. “Our dad?”

“Yeah.” He shut his eyes and gave a nod. “Isaac met his...daughter in a cafe and they're friends now and he said they wanted to meet us.”

“They? As in that man and his daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you--”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’ve told Isaac to ask them to stay away from us. I just wanted you to know.”

Gemma didn’t make a sound. There was no response, not even a sigh of relief. If she was there in person, maybe he could read her mind based on her reaction, but they were on the phone. So right now, he was on the edge of his seat, second-guessing what his sister was about to say.

“I'll meet him.”

“What?” He shot himself out of the couch, standing up straight. “Are you seri--”

“You don’t remember the day he left but I did, okay?!” Her voice had turned from low and calm to high and troubled, which made him worried. But Harry wouldn’t dare to interrupt his sister unless she wanted him to.

Gemma frantically went on, “I came home from school and I saw him in the driveway and mum was crying at the door. I chased after his car even when I knew I couldn’t catch up. And he watched me...he watched his daughter chase after him and he just kept on driving…”

“Gem…”

“So I'll meet him again, just to tell him to his face what an awful person he’s been.” When Harry heard his sister sniffle, he could imagine her wipe away her tears and stop crying for she remembered Winton wasn’t worth her tears.

“He doesn’t deserve to think he’s a good person,” she went on, sounding more stern this time. “I want to make sure he knows and feels terrible for what he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel like a good father, not even to his new daughter.”

When that phone call ended, Harry spent the rest of his morning thinking about it.

The first time Y/N had been to a tattoo parlour was actually with Blake. They’d been dating for a year then, and while getting drunk on the roof one night, she’d come up with the craziest idea, which was getting matching tattoos for their anniversary. Blake’s brother was a tattoo artist and was kind enough to offer her one for free.

Her parents obviously didn’t know about that. Bradford had never liked Blake, so if he’d found out, he probably would have blown up Blake’s prized possession which was his motorbike and then maybe...also Blake.

But Blake was the only one getting a tattoo that day. Y/N got scared the second she’d entered the shop without having to sit in the chair, and afterwards, they both joked about how he might regret it one day and have it removed. In the last three years, she had randomly wondered if he’d done it already. Now that she’d got her answer, she couldn’t stop wondering why he hadn’t.

“You okay?” Harry asked, and she gave a nod, too distracted by the way the needle was sliding along his skin to think about her ex now.

Harry had been there so many times before so he probably didn’t think it was painful, but there was no way she would ever want to try having someone push various sizes of needles into her skin over and over again.

Ironically, she had a thing for men with tattoos. Isaac had fewer than the others, but most of the men she’d been with had had at least four. There wasn’t a specific reason behind it. She just liked how they looked on men. She would’ve gotten one a long time ago had she not been such a pussy. She just thought tattoos were interesting because every single one held a different story about its person.

Harry had gotten so many of them that it pissed off Anne and Gemma sometimes, but he didn’t really seem to care. He’d got some silly ones (‘the lovely mistakes’ was what he’d call them), some for Anne and Gemma, a triangle for his friendship with Isaac and Niall (each of them had one, and even though all three of them thought it was silly, they’d decided to keep it anyway), some for Ruby (which had either been covered up or removed), yet none for her.

After all, they’d only been together for three months. It’d be weird to ask him to get a tattoo of something that reminded him of her. From what she’d heard, it was more painful to get a tattoo removed than done, and she wouldn’t want that for him.

“I’m going to meet him.”

Y/N snapped out of it. The sound of the tattoo gun was so loud she thought she’d misheard some of the words, so she hurriedly asked, “who? Isaac?”

“Winton.”

This time, she’d read Harry's lips. There was no way the name wasn’t what she thought it was.

“W-Why? What made you change your mind?”

Harry kneaded his temple with his other hand, his eyebrows knitted together as he let go of a sigh. “I’m meeting him so Gemma won’t have to. She wants to see him.”

“I thought Gemma hated him.”

“Yeah, it’s...complicated. I’ll tell you when we get home.”

“But are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said, petting her hair. “It’ll be better if I go instead of Gem. I barely remember anything about him, so it won’t be as hard. I’ll just say what she wants me to say and then I’ll go.”

“Can’t you just talk her out of this?” she insisted, even using her puppy dog eyes to persuade him but it didn’t seem to work as he still looked unfazed.

He brought his hand from her hair down to her cheek and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, smiling softly at her. “I thought about it, but then I realised she could be right.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s like…it’s like getting a tattoo.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirked and rested her chin on her knuckles, surely interested in finding out where he was going with this.

“Every moment in your life is like a tattoo. Some are bad, some are good and they’ll stay with you forever unless you want to get rid of them. But it’s usually the bad events, the bad memories that you don’t want to keep, and the only way to get rid of them is to face them. Some people don’t want to do that because, yes, just like removing a tattoo, it could hurt. Gemma knows it could hurt, but she also knows the only way for her to actually let Winton go, is to see him in person and say what she’s always wanted to say to his face. And I respect that. And I’m gonna do that for her.”

“I see.” Y/N slowly nodded her head, her face screwed up as she thought harder about what he’d just said. “That was very well-put.”

“Hey, maybe I can also become a writer!”

She giggled as he booped her nose and quickly took his hand with both of hers to press it against her cheek.

“When are we going?” she asked, to his surprise.

“We?” A delightful grin tugged at his lips. He must have thought she was joking.

“You think I’m gonna let you go alone?”

In her head, she had prepared something to say in case he told her he didn’t want to drag her into his mess. But then she watched his eyes lit up with a smile twice as big.

“C’mere.” He puckered up his lips. Immediately, she got up and pressed their mouths together.

“Thank you, love,” he sighed. “You’re always there for me. What have I done to deserve you?”

Y/N was just about to reply with something witty when all of a sudden the tattoo artist interrupted their little moment by telling Harry his tattoo was finished.

“A little house! Aww, cute,” Y/N said, peering at the new piece of art on his forearm. When she looked up to see his reaction, she caught him biting his lip and smiling at her. “What?”

Harry laughed without saying anything. But he didn’t have to because she understood immediately what he meant.

“Is that…” Her mouth fell open. “Is that our treehouse?”

“Our treehouse. Our future house. Whatever you want it to be,” he said and sat up straight to hold her face between his palms. “It’s how you look in my eyes.”

“I look like...a house?”

“Why do you have to ruin such a romantic moment?” He rolled his eyes and they both chuckled. “Home. I look at you and I see home. And my mum once said, ‘men don’t go building houses for just anyone.’ I love you, and as cheesy as this might sound, I want to build houses with you. Literally and metaphorically.”

“Awww, you two are adorable!” the tattoo artist said, but this time, Y/N didn’t even pay attention to him. Her eyes already glistened as she wrapped both arms around Harry’s neck, squeezing him so tightly she nearly suffocated him.

“You gotta calm down, babe. You could’ve choked me,” he joked as they broke apart.

“But...you like being choked,” she said, smiling through her tears as Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help but pull his Bambi back into his arms.

When Blake opened the door in his bathrobe, he was soaking wet, probably had just got out of the shower and was utterly confused by this unexpected visit. A big smile brightened up his handsome face, but before he could even say hello, Y/N covered his mouth with one hand.

“I need you to be quiet and only speak when I’m finished, okay?”

He nodded quickly as she gave him an apologetic smile before taking a deep breath.

“First of all, I’m really sorry,” she began. “The reason I’ve been acting so weird since I saw you in the club--yes, I saw you in the club last night, and I assumed you were a ghost...I wanted to believe that, because...because...it was easier to deal with a ghost than...you.”

Blake almost laughed but stopped himself when he saw how serious she was.

Y/N swallowed as she went on, “but you’re here now and...and I guess I’ve been kind of rude to you, but it’s not because I still blame you for us not working out. I was just scared of all the things that’s left unsaid between us. So I’m going to say them now. Please just...listen…”

He nodded again, his smile was gone when she removed her hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t cry when we broke up. I did, but..that was after you’d left. I wanted you to think I didn’t love you as much as you loved me, so it’d be easier for you to go. And...and I’m sorry that I’ve never told you about Harry. Yes, I had a crush on him and he was my first kiss, my first love, but he didn’t like me then. It wasn’t until my mother’s funeral that Harry came back. I was completely in love with you when we were together. I had not thought of him during our relationship and I truly loved you. I was too scared to tell you any of this. But now, I should tell you everything in order to move forward.”

Blake was still quiet. They were just staring at each other in silence, so Y/N had to clear her throat loudly. “You can talk now,” she said, smiling awkwardly at the ex-boyfriend.

"Wow." Blake combed his fingers through his dark locks and exhaled sharply. "Thank you. I...Well...I appreciate you telling me all this and...um just so you know, I’ve never doubted your feelings for me. I knew you forced yourself not to cry so it’d be easier for me to leave.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, silly. I loved you too much to let you fool me like that,” he said, making both of them chuckle. “And I don’t care who you had loved before me or who you’re with right now. The only thing that mattered was that we were in love once and we were happy and honest with each other.”

“Not really honest...I didn’t tell you about Harry so…”

“Just shut up and let me forgive you.”

“Hey!” She scoffed and smacked him on the arm. If she’d known this conversation would be a great icebreaker, she would’ve done it earlier. Overthinking had been exhausting.

“So...friends?” He put out his hand, showing a dimple as he pressed his lips into a half-smile.

“Friends.” Y/N nodded and gave her neighbour/ex-boyfriend an extra-firm handshake. “Quick question,” she trailed off, pointing to the tattoo which she’d almost forgotten about. “Did you not get it removed because it was painful or--”

“Why would I want to get it removed?” Blake tilted his head and looked at her like she’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “You weren’t a mistake, Y/N. You were actually a great part of my life and...tattoos were supposed to tell stories, right? So why would I want to get you removed?”

“Right…” She bit her lip, taking a step backwards to keep a further distance from him. “I guess...goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” Blake said as his eyes lit up with another smile. “See you tomorrow, neighbour.”

#my girl series #older!harry #younger!y/n #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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banashee · 3 years

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Part 2/25 from my second @badthingshappenbingo

A Second Mug of Tea

Natasha knows that sleep won’t come easily, if at all that night. She is tossing and turning, flipping the pillow to the cooler side over and over again, stretching out and curling back up time and time again. None of it helps - her thoughts are running wild and she’s getting annoyed with herself.

From experience, Natasha knows that there is very little she can do about the insomnia, and even less that actually helps.

The worst thing is, that she can’t stop the train of thoughts running through her head. Old memories, regrets - trauma. Things she had no control over and things she wishes she had done differently or not at all - it mixes up into a thick, slow sludge that keeps her awake at night.

It’s far from the first time she is stuck in a limbo of exhaustion and sleeplessness due to this, but it doesn’t get any less frustrating. Unfortunately, she can’t really do anything to distract herself from it now.

The mission is done and so are the debrief and paperwork.

Under normal circumstances, Natasha would be on the way back to HQ or at least another mission by now - more likely HQ and then home, because SHIELD likes their agents to get rest in between missions and before they come back to the office for the more boring parts of the job.

But as it is, there is a massive snowstorm that is delaying everything, so she is stuck in a safehouse with Phil. Which is fine - her handler is mostly quiet and pleasant company, and if Natasha is honest with herself, she really is growing to like him.

Still, it is fuck-o clock in the morning and she doubts that he is up for conversation now. Okay, that’s a lie.

Natasha knows just how protective Phil Coulson is, especially when it comes to his own agents. There is a good number of reasons that Clint is so close to him, after all. He is just as paranoid and distrusting as Natasha herself, and yet he trusts and loves their handler without a thought. It’s a rare thing, especially for people like them.

Natasha has been with SHIELD for a little over 2 years now, and she is slowly getting more and more comfortable with both her team and the new life in general. But she misses her best friend.

Originally, Strike Team Delta should have been complete for this mission, and being stuck in a cabin in a snowstorm together wouldn’t have been as bad.

Clint is Natasha’s favourite person to be around in general. He also knows how to cook and bake wonderful things from scratch, which is more than either Natasha or Phil could do. They are capable of feeding themselves, of course, but it’s just that and nothing more. Clint, on the other hand, loves preparing food, and it keeps him busy and everyone else happy and entertained as well.

As it is, Clint is stuck at home with the flu and is still highly contagious. He’s mostly sleeping or annoyed, but there isn’t anything to be done about it.

They text frequently, but for now it’s just Natasha and Phil here.

Natasha glares holes into the dark, wooden ceiling. It doesn’t budge, so she turns around once again, resting on her side and stretches out one slim, pale hand for the phone that is charging on the bedside table. She pauses for a moment, debating if she should send the text or not. But she knows it’ll help, and Clint won’t mind. With a sigh, she snatches the phone and quickly types a message, hitting send before she has the time to overthink it.

‘Sorry, I know it’s late. Are you awake?’

His answer comes just seconds later.

‘Yeah. Are you ok?’

‘Can’t sleep. I hate being stuck here. How about you?’

‘ Still snowing, huh. I’m fine, just. slimy I guess. Do you want me to call?’

For a short moment, Natasha actually debates this, but quickly thinks better of it. She doesn’t want to disturb Clint anymore at this time. She feels bad enough for waking him while sick, even though she knows he doesn’t mind her doing so. Besides, the walls are so thin here, she’d be afraid to wake up Phil if she were to have a conversation on the phone at this hour.

‘No, it’s fine. Texting is enough. Thanks.’

Just talking to someone helps. Natasha feels a little less alone, and so they shoot each other messages back and forth. Something eases in her chest and she even finds herself huffing a quiet laugh at one point. Natasha might not be able to sleep, but it helps her to feel a bit more calm and human again.

‘Tell you what, you should go to the kitchen and get some tea. It might help.’ the latest text from Clint says, and yeah, he’s probably right. He knows her too well.

Natasha untangles herself from the sheets, kicking them away to the foot of the bed. Then she pockets her phone, quietly sneaking towards the door. Careful not to make any noise, she taps down the short hallway to the living room and open kitchen. When she rounds a corner, Natasha can see the faint light coming from the room - it looks like she’s not the only one awake.

And really, when she enters the room, it already smells of tea and the pot is on the coffee table next to an empty mug.

Phil is curled up in one corner of the couch in his pyjamas, reading glasses on and a book on his lap. He holds a steaming mug in one hand and he looks not nearly as rumpled as Natasha feels, but it is clear that he got out of bed at some point as well. When he notices her, he looks up with a small smile.

“Hi. Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head no.

“Hope I didn’t wake you up, Sir.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t. I’ve been awake for a while. No need for the ‘Sir’ right now, though. We’re off-duty and it’s… 3:30 in the morning.” he adds and Natasha nods, mutely. She happily accepts the other mug with tea - it smells amazing, and there is a squeeze bottle of honey on the table.

After preparing her tea just the way she wants it, Natasha grabs a book from the nearby shelf before making herself comfortable in the free corner of the couch. The room is chilly, despite the crackling fire in the fireplace.

This safehouse is old and made of wood - no wonder the wind and cold can creep in.

Natasha takes a woolen blanket from the back of the couch, an ugly, colorful thing but she knows it is really soft. Then she turns over to Phil, who has gone back to reading. She can’t see the full title, but the name of the author rings a bell in the back of her mind, so she knows it’s a fantasy novel - huh. Who would have thought. But then again, Natasha has known that Coulson is a huge nerd in private, so it really shouldn’t surprise her.

“Thanks for the tea.”

“You’re welcome.” Phil looks up from his book. “If there is anything you want to talk about, I’d be happy to listen.” he offers, and leaves it at that.

For a moment, she fixes her eyes on him, but she can’t detect any foul play. This offer is as genuine as it gets.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Instead of talking, she sips on her tea, mulling over her thoughts. Having company feels good - sitting out here with a warm drink by the fire with a book and another human being is much nicer than tossing and tuning alone in bed.

Part of her is wondering if Clint knew that Phil would be awake and set her up for the company when he himself can’t be there. The other part of her just knows without asking that this is pretty much what happened.

With a small smile and shake of her head, she puts down her book to send Clint another text.

‘You knew the tea was already done when you texted me.’

Her phone vibrates a little while later, but instead of a text it’s just a smiley face. It tells her more than enough - the two of them don’t need many words. Natasha huffs a small laugh.

While the fire burns away, slowly getting smaller and smaller, Natasha can feel her eyes grow heavy. Suddenly, she finds herself sliding and the book almost falls out of her hand - finally, she feels like she may be able to sleep. She’s only half aware that Phil is gently pulling the book and mug from her grip, placing both items on the table in front of them.

Natasha curls up under the blanket, faintly aware that her feet are brushing against Phil, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He simply settles down in his own corner of the couch and continues reading.

When Natasha wakes up again, she finds herself on the living room couch, fire burning once again and the wind is howling outside. The windows are frozen and there is a layer of fresh snow at the bottom, covering the windowsills.

On the table, there are two empty mugs, two novels and a pair of thick framed reading glasses.

Natasha stretches, running one hand through her messy red curls. Surprisingly, she feels more rested than she thought she would.

There is no clock, but that is okay - this is just another day of being stuck here, but then Natasha sniffs the air, and it makes her mouth water.

The scent of fresh coffee is in the air, and she can smell eggs and bacon frying in the kitchen.

‘Friends.’ Natasha thinks, ‘Might be well worth the effort.’

She pulls out her Phone from in between the couch cushions, texting a smiley back to Clint before she makes her way into the kitchen to see if she can do anything to help prepare breakfast.

*+~

Square 2/25: Insomnia

#banashee writes #Bad things happen bingo #marvel fanfiction

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philologer-mosaic · 3 years

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Hey! Fellow writer here! I was curious as to how you learn to write characters and /keep/ them in character without it being overly stereotypical or stiff? I've read your work and I'd love to learn from you ;^;

Hi! Glad to meet you, and wow, I am so flattered to be asked this. Happy to help out a fellow writer, and I’m always down for rambling about writing-related stuff! I’m not sure how helpful some of this will turn out to be, but here goes.

I’m not sure if you’re asking about characterisation in general including crafting OCs or specifically about writing canon characters, and a lot of this advice will be relevant to both, but I will say this straight off: I’ve seen a fair amount of quibbling about how fanfiction won’t teach you how to worldbuild and maybe that’s true, but there is nothing like writing fanfiction for teaching yourself how to craft character voices. Especially when your source material is a movie/ TV show/ whatever definition RWBY falls under. So: rewatch! Pay attention to all the little details. What turns of phrase do they use? How do they stand, how do they move? What’s their usual emotional range? Pick a line they speak, think about what descriptors you’d use to get across their tone of voice or their emotional state if you were writing the scene in a fic. When you’re writing new dialogue for them, try to hear it in the actor’s voice (if that’s a way your imagination works; some people don’t have great auditory imaginations. Mine can be kind of hit and miss!).

Rest of this advice is going under a cut, because this got looong!

With canon characters: start from what you know, then extrapolate. Especially with characters we don’t see all that much of, boil them down to a handful of personality traits/ ways-they-present-themself first, then consider what might underly them. And in reverse: take the things we know about their status and backstory, consider what that implies about them as a person.

So, Clover: I think I boiled him down to ‘confident, friendly, professional’, and what’s underlying ‘confidence’ is really obviously his semblance: he’s never had to hesitate about anything, he always knows he can rely on himself. So in his internal monologue, he’s not going to second-guess his decisions. He calls Qrow out on deflecting compliments, so he’s good at reading people and also wants to help them; I assume that applies more broadly than just to Qrow. He’s leader of Ironwood’s flagship team of Specialists, and semblance or not I made the assumption he didn’t get there without working for it [that is an assumption, though! People less inclined to think well of Clover will make a different assumption, in-universe as well as out, and how he responds to that is also something to consider], so he’s got to be smart, dedicated, a good tactician, a good leader. And building from that: he’s smart and perceptive but we know he’s also loyal to the bitter end (very bitter); what sort of personality can we project that reconciles those two, what sort of person would respond like that? What I went with is that he trusts the system because he understands enough pieces of how/why it works that he trusts the bits he doesn’t understand are also created with the best interests of the people at heart. (Even when that’s really not true.) So then that’s a consistent philosophy-like thing that underlies a lot of how I write him: he understands the reasons for a lot of why things are how they are and then assumes the best of all the rest.

– This looks like a lot, now I’ve written it out. I thought all this out while working on the early chapters but I never put it some of it into words really. In coming up with the plot or story idea you’ll have made plenty of these assumptions and extrapolations already. Take a second look at them; take them further, find places to link them together or pit them against each other.

And remember, these are your interpretations. There’s not a right or wrong way to flesh these out. Work with semi-canon stuff like the mangas or discard it as you wish; follow fanon or argue with it or throw it out entirely. I interpreted Yang as ‘normal outgoing teenage girl in a non-homophobic world’ and wrote her as having dated people from Signal before she got to Beacon; the other day I came across a tumblr post interpreting her as “a rural lesbian”, by which standard she definitely didn’t have any romantic experience before canon; they’re both entirely plausible takes! Where we don’t know stuff for sure, slot in whatever your story needs, or whatever you think seems interesting. I settled on Clover’s backstory for Soldier, Spy mostly by going ‘ok, what’s an interesting way to contrast him with Qrow?’ And in some of my other fic ideas, he’s different.

Limited third person perspective (or first person, if you can pull if off) is the best for dropping in characterisation smoothly. Though I’m probably biased because I love it so much. Omniscient third person POV is when the narration’s impartial and uninvolved, and skips between person A’s thoughts and person B’s thoughts and pure description of what’s happening, objectively speaking; limited third person is – when the camera’s always over one person’s shoulder in a given scene. It’s less close in than first person, but we get the POV character’s thoughts and no others, we only see/notice what they notice and pay attention to, descriptions are coloured by the way the POV character thinks about the world. I don’t want to be setting you homework, but, a neat writing exercise, if you want it: pick an object, place or person, and consider how two different characters would see it differently. Write those two descriptions. For fun, pick something that at least one of the characters is going to really look down on or dislike parts of! (Qrow’s snark is so much fun.)

This is cynical, but: people lie to themselves a lot. When you put yourself into a character’s head, they’re going to be telling themself a narrative in which what they’re doing is the best thing to do and makes them a good person. (With a few exceptions, the big ones being depression- and anxiety-brain, which instead do their best to convince you you’re the worst.) Get your characters to justify themselves to you.

Goals, motivations, priorities. It feels like a massive oversight to write about how to characters and leave that one out, but honestly I can’t think of anything I can say here that hasn’t been covered better by tons of other writing advice. [Incidentally: https://www.writersdigest.com/ . Subscribe to their email newsletter, it’s free, they will try to get you to buy their how-to courses but there’s no need to, the website has all kinds of articles about the craft and details of writing and the newsletter will send you all the new ones plus curated picks of what’s already there. And also: https://springhole.net/writing/index.html . There’s some stuff specific to fanfic in there, and also general writing advice.] Just: keep it in mind.

Related to that, but a separate thing and one that I haven’t seen other writing advice talk about so much: how does the character try to achieve their goals? What are their skills and resources? And more than that, what’s their preferred approach? In the simplest terms. It’s a matter of mindset, and what options they see as available to them. So the things I would keep in mind for this are: Who’s got social skills/ is good at thinking in social terms, and who isn’t/doesn’t? (Not just interpersonally speaking. James “not really concerned about my reputation” Ironwood is a good example of a character who always thinks in terms of hard power over soft power; even when public opinion is an important strategic consideration he only thinks about it in the broadest and most simplified strokes.) Who would rather work within the system, and who prefers to do an end-run around it? (That doesn’t have to correlate with who’s actually got power, though obviously there are trends. I’m writing Clover as tending to take charge even when he officially shouldn’t because he’s more concerned with solving the problem than with rank, and that’s a case of circumventing the system, it’s one of the things he’s got in common with Qrow.) Who’s more analytical about their approach and what they’re trying to do (which means their failure mode is overthinking and decision paralysis) and who reacts with their gut instinct (which means their failure mode is getting in over their head)?

… I could talk about this one at length. There’s a whole framework I use to categorise characters in this way (I came across it in, of all things, the flavourtext of a supplement to an RPG no one’s ever heard of and it just stuck with me, and I’ve made it my own in the years since) and I could go into all sorts of detail about how it works/ what it means. But I think this is enough to be getting on with, on that topic. If you want to know more, send me another ask? But no one else talks about this thing in writing advice, it might be completely orthogonal to the writing process of anyone but me.

So! Related to the topic of characters’ skillsets, a really great tip I can’t remember where I picked up: how do you write someone who’s smarter/wittier/better at tactics than you? Spend minutes or hours turning something over in your head that the character is going to come up with in seconds. The great advantage of writing: it’s so much easier to be eloquent when you’ve got time to think. [If you had asked me this question in person you would have got ‘i don’t know?’ and then half an hour later I would have thought of half of this stuff and kicked myself. A week and change later, you’re getting the other half too :p ]

And lastly: you said you were worried about your writing getting “overly stereotypical”. And my immediate response to that was stereotypes bad, yes, but archetypes great. The difference being: stereotypes are lazy and offensive writing that let ‘membership of a social category’ stand in for ‘actual characterisation’ and if you’re asking for advice on characterisation you’re obviously too thoughtful to commit them; archetypes are pre-made sketched-out personalities that you can take as your own and flesh out into your own thing. Tropes are tools. No one ever said ‘They were roommates? Ugh, how unoriginal’. By the same token, ‘lone wolf who pretends he’s fine and doesn’t dare trust anyone no matter how much he secretly wants to’ is a fantastic trope that exists for good reason, the CRWBY used it for good reason, and when we found out Qrow’s semblance I went yes please I will have some of all that angst and then laughed at myself because when it comes to fictional characters I have A Type. I’m pretty sure I’ve never written the exact scenario ‘pushes themself way too hard and passes out, wakes up in unexpected safety and immediately condemns themself for not sticking it out longer’ before the opening of Soldier, Spy, but I know I’ve come up with plenty of things that were like it, and if they’d made it to a state of publication you’d be able to see that.

It’s like artists using references. Just because they looked up how to draw that hand and that pose doesn’t mean the final product’s not their own. There’s no reason not to start with your ideas of the character (no matter how ‘stereotypical’ they feel) or a collection of traits you’ve grabbed from other characters that seem like they’d fit – or, for OCs, an MBTI type or a roleplaying class/background combo or one of these or some other personality type you feel like you can find your way around the basics of – and just take it from there. When you start writing/outlining/daydreaming-about-ideas you’ll run into scenarios/setups you can’t copy across from but you can see what responses might come up, and that’s how the template becomes your own unique iteration of it.

… Because really all writing advice does come down to: just write. In your head or on the page, try things out, see what works, see how it goes. I’ve been doing this a long time; most of it never made it to words on a page, let alone to the internet at large. Read across genres, read things people write about themselves and how they live and think and feel, and just – go for it.

I hope this helps! Once again, I was really glad to be asked; feel free to ask me to elaborate on any of this, or about anything else you want advice about. I wish you all the best in your future writing!

#writing #my thoughts #posting into a void

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arysafics · 4 years

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Running Into You

Summary: Clarke’s new year resolution of picking up running is made a LOT easier by her constantly running into this really hot runner who always greets her with a smile when they meet. Because she’s awkward, she has to come up with contrived circumstances to introduce herself.

Rated T, ~2.6k words

for @ragingserenity and @bellarkebingo (for the strangers to lovers trope)

Clarke doesn’t normally make New Year’s resolutions. She thinks they’re stupid. If she wanted to make some dramatic change in her life, she could just do it any time of the year. The fact that people wait until New Year to do these things only proves to Clarke that they really have no intention of seeing them through, and she can’t roll her eyes enough at all the Instagram posts tagged #newyearnewme.

She only made a resolution this year because Monty was having a New Year’s Eve party where he forced everyone to write down a resolution and put it in a jar, which he’s now keeping on the bookshelf in his living room, where it glares at anyone who goes to visit him, reminding them of the promise they made but probably won’t keep. He says anyone who keeps their resolution by next year’s New Year’s Eve party will get free alcohol from him at said party.

Truthfully, Clarke had a million things she could write down, things she wants to achieve, not necessarily this year, but just in general. She even considered writing find someone to date me, but that just felt pathetic, and also a little too out of her control.

In the end, with Monty rushing her, and all rational thought leaving her brain, Clarke had scribbled down take up running. A decision she’d sincerely regretted on New Year’s Day when she woke up with a raging hangover, her head pounding.

Still, she kept her promise, if only for two reasons – the promise of free alcohol, and all her friends telling her that she would absolutely fail to keep her resolution. She’s nothing if not stubborn, and she’s going to make it to Monty’s New Year’s Eve party at the end of the year as somebody who runs.

Except it’s day three, and she’s already ready to give up. She’s up at the crack of dawn, because she actually has to go back to work today, and she knows she absolutely will not do it if she doesn’t do it now.

She grumbles to herself as she pulls on her workout pants, and pulls a large t-shirt and a hoodie over her sports bra. There are people who actually do this for fun. People who like running are definitely psychopaths.

She’d run in the afternoon yesterday and the day before, when the park near her house had been full of people, and dogs, and children. At this time of day, there aren’t many other people around, and there’s this kind of soothing silence, the only sounds she can hear are birds and a distant hum of traffic. It’s also nice that there are less people to see her looking like a sweating, panting, mess. She’s far from in shape.

She does a lap of the lake, which is more like a pond, actually, and isn’t really that far, but Clarke already feels like she’s dying. She pulls her hoodie off as she approaches the drinking fountain, where a man is filling up his water bottle, and she’s not so fatigued not to notice how attractive he is. She notices his ass first, and it’s probably the nicest ass she’s seen in a while, maybe even ever. The kind of firm, round, ass she’d like to sink her teeth into. Which is not a thought she’s had before.

She finds herself turning red as she realises she’s ogling the stranger’s ass, and quickly raises her eyes, only to set her sights on his massive biceps that his shirt does nothing to hide. She’d been parched before, but now her mouth is watering.

He switches off the water, and turns around, putting the lid back on his bottle. He must notice her staring, or perhaps he’s just being polite, because he gives her a smile as he passes her, and Clarke feels like she might faint. She feels like one of those girls in Beauty and the Beast who fawn over Gaston.

Face still burning, she steps up to the drinking fountain and splashes water over her cheeks, though it’s absolutely freezing. It does the job though, and she feels a little less flushed as she gears up for her second lap around the pond. She’s half hoping she’ll see him again as she runs, but he must have left already. It’s probably for the best. Knowing her, she’d just manage to make a fool of herself in front of him.

She gets up even earlier the next day, and it’s not even a chore. She also maybe puts just a teensy bit of make-up on, just in case hot water fountain guy happens to be there again. She’s not going specifically because she’s hoping to run into him again, but it is an extra motivator.

She looks around as she stretches by a park bench, her imagination conjuring up a scenario where he shows up and joins her and they run together, and then he asks her on a date. That doesn’t happen, obviously, because when have things ever worked out the way Clarke wants them to?

She assumes yesterday was a one off for him, or maybe she’s missed him, or maybe he’s coming later. So she starts her run, and she doesn’t exactly forget about him, but neither is she actively looking out for him. Which is why she doesn’t notice him running towards her until he’s right in front of her face, and he smiles at her, and she almost trips over her own feet.

She doesn’t think he notices her stumble, since he’s already passed her by then, but she stops and turns to watch him go, checking out his ass again in the process.

He smiled at her. Does that he means he remembers her from yesterday? But he smiled at her yesterday too. So maybe he thinks she’s hot. Or maybe he’s just polite and smiles at everyone he passes. Or maybe he thinks she runs funny, or he’s laughing at the way her hair sticks to her sweat-covered forehead.

She takes a deep breath, and starts running again. She’s overthinking this.

She passes him again on her second lap, and he smiles again, wider this time, and Clarke doesn’t smile back, mostly because she’s puffing too hard, and running is the worst, and she couldn’t smile about this god-awful experience if her life depended on it. But she does like seeing his smile, so she does another lap, even though she’s dying, and sure enough, she’s treated to another of his breathtaking smiles.

She’s still thinking about it as she trudges home, wishing she brought her car so she didn’t have to walk the three blocks back to her apartment.

The logical thing would be to just walk up to him and introduce herself. Even if he’s not into her the way she’s into him, she could at least make a friend out of it. She’s fairly confident he recognises her by now, after five days in a row of casually running past him, or standing near him, or watching him pet an old man’s dog. And he always smiles when he sees her. Still possible it’s just because he thinks she’s weird, or he’s noticed her staring at him every chance he gets, but she’s done enough staring to know he doesn’t smile for everyone. For the old man and his dog, yes, but not for every random person running through the park at six in the morning. Just Clarke. And the old man and his dog.

But somehow, in Clarke’s mind, it’s past the acceptable point where she can just introduce herself out of nowhere. It would have been fine on the second day, or third day. But the sixth day? That’s out of the question.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Monty tells her, after she’s explained to him her current predicament, and informed him she’s in dire need of his help. “Why is there a time limit on when you can introduce yourself to a hot runner in the park?”

“There just is.”

“You’ve never had trouble introducing yourself to people before,” Monty points out. “He’s not going to think it’s weird.”

“Monty, you haven’t seen this guy. He’s so hot, okay? He’s so hot I want to die, and I just know he probably has girls fawning over him all the time, introducing themselves to him out of nowhere and trying to flirt with him. He’s probably sick of it. And if I just walk up to him and go hey, I’m Clarke, he’ll know that I’m just another one of those mindless bimbos who wants to get into his pants.”

“So much for feminism,” Monty mutters. Clarke ignores him.

“And that’s why I need your help, because I need to look like I don’t want to lick his balls, okay? Or at least look like it’s not the first thing I want to do.”

“Gross, Clarke.”

“This is what I’m reduced to.”

Monty sighs. “So you want me to what? Write you a list of conversation topics?”

“No,” Clarke says. She looks to the fat, golden Labrador laying at their feet, who immediately starts wagging his tail as soon as he realises Clarke’s attention is on him. “I want to borrow your dog.”

The plan is simple. Hot running guy clearly likes dogs, right? Clarke had watched him as he’d literally changed course as soon as he spotted that old man and his dog. And then he spent like five minutes gushing over the mutt. Not that Clarke can blame him, it was a pretty cute dog. But Monty’s dog, Einstein, is even cuter. And the Labrador could do with a workout just as much as Clarke.

She starts her run around the pond, which is even slower than usual because Einstein isn’t really capable of keeping up with her usual pace. She hasn’t seen the hot runner yet, but she’s still hopeful.

She makes it a lap and a half before Einstein has had enough. The Labrador stops mid run, almost pulling Clarke’s arm off as she tries to keep running, still holding the leash. She stops, panting, tilting her head at the dog.

“You’re worse than me,” she mutters. Einstein ignores her, and instead starts making his way towards the pond. “You’re thirsty, okay, fair enough.” Clarke follows him to the edge of the pond, but instead of taking a drink like she expected him to, Einstein keeps walking, straight into the pond.

“Einstein, no!” Clarke yells, but the dog keeps going, pulling on the leash, which Clarke hastily lets go of, lest she be pulled into the freezing water too. “Great, just great,” she huffs, watching Einstein wade through the water, gathering mud and reeds on his fur. “Einstein!” she calls. “Here, Einstein!” He continues to ignore her.

“Need some help?”

Clarke whips her head to the left, heart pounding, because she already knows it’s him, because his voice happens to be just as hot as the rest of him.

“Oh,” is Clarke’s intelligent response.

“Is that a yes or a no?” He looks vaguely amused by her situation. He’s obviously paused mid-run to help her, because he’s covered in sweat, and Clarke has never found sweat so attractive. Licking the sweat off a stranger’s body is a normal thought to have, right?

“I’m not sure you can help,” Clarke says, finally managing to find her voice. “Unless you want jump into a freezing pond to pull out my friend’s dog.”

He grins. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for that yet,” he says. “And it’s not even your dog?”

“I was borrowing him,” Clarke says. The hot stranger raises an eyebrow, and Clarke realises her mistake. “I mean, I was looking after him. As a favour to my friend.”

“His name is Einstein?” Clarke nods. “And yours is…?”

Clarke almost laughs. She ducks her head to hide her smile. So maybe her plan hadn’t worked out exactly like she rehearsed it, but he’s talking to her, and asking her name, so it kind of worked, right?

“I’m Clarke,” she says.

“Bellamy,” he returns, and then she knows his name.

“Pretty name,” she says. He laughs, and her heart squeezes. God, he’s adorable and hot. She’s so screwed.

“Yours too,” he says. “Glad I finally know it. I’ve seen you around a bit here recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long to introduce yourself then?” Clarke teases, as if she hasn’t just manufactured an excuse to talk to him so she wouldn’t have to do the same thing she’s admonishing him for not doing.

Bellamy shrugs. “Thought it might be weird. I didn’t know if you’d taken any notice of me.”

Clarke’s eyes bulge. Is he serious? “You literally smile at me every day,” she points out. “How could I not notice you?”

“You never smile back!” Bellamy says defensively. Oh. Is it possible she’s accidentally been putting out please don’t talk to me vibes?

“That’s because running is the worst,” Clarke says. “I promise if I had the ability to smile while running, I would have smiled back.”

Bellamy beams, and true to her word, Clarke smiles back.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees, and she feels like she may have accidentally let on that she likes him. But seeing as he seems like he might like her too, it’s not the worst thing in the world. She’s just not sure what happens next.

Einstein makes his way back towards them then, clumsily dragging himself out of the pond, wet and muddy. Monty is going to kill her. Einstein looks very pleased with himself, tail wagging, dripping with water. And then he gives himself a good shake, sending water droplets and mud splattering all over Clarke, and to her dismay, Bellamy as well.

She grimaces. “Oh god,” she says. “I’m really sorry.” She quickly picks up Einstein’s soggy leash before he can run off on her again.

“It’s okay,” Bellamy laughs. “I have to shower anyway.”

“Me too,” Clarke agrees. “We should probably do that.” They meet eyes for a moment, and she realises she’s inadvertently implied that they should shower together. Which she does want to do, but it might be a bit much to admit to him when she doesn’t even know his last name. “Oh my god,” she says hurriedly. “I didn’t mean, you know—together.”

“I mean, we should probably at least have coffee together or something first, you know?” Bellamy says, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, not caring anymore if she sounds too eager.

“Maybe not today though,” Bellamy says, looking down at his mud-stained shirt.

“Agreed,” Clarke says. “I have to get Einstein home to Monty anyway… he’s going to be so annoyed I let his dog get all muddy.”

“Tell him it was my fault.”

“He already knows it’s your fault. I may have—borrowed this dog so I could get you to come and talk to me,” Clarke admits. To her relief, Bellamy is amused by her confession, rather than scared off.

He hands her his phone and she puts her number in, and Clarke tries to tone down her giddy happiness when he immediately texts her that he’ll see her at the park tomorrow.

One year later, Clarke is wishing she had written find someone to date me as her New Year’s Resolution—even Bellamy couldn’t motivate her to keep running for an entire year. He does, however help her write her new resolution, something a little more realistic – get a dog of their own.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarkebingo #The 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

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astralkoo · 5 years

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Beautifully Misfit 2

SERIES: Hybrid BTS

‣ Genre: fluff, smutt, hybrid au

‣ Word Count: 3k

‣ Pairing(s): skunk!Jimin x reader, puppy!Taehyung x reader, bunny!Jungkook x reader

‣ Warning(s): strong language, angst, bullying, fighting (not graphic), some mentions of abuse and neglect, talks of euthanasia

‣ to be aware of: sub!jimin, switch!taehyung, switch!jungkook, dom!reader, some kinky ass future happenings, BDSM themes, some heavy angst, and triggering themes.

Summary: you never really saw yourself as a hybrid person. that is, until your best friend introduces you to his hybrid, and you suddenly find yourself craving the companionship. you only intended to bring home one. somewhere between the lines you ended up with three beautifully misfit hybrids who craved nothing but your love.

part. i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi (coming soon)

A/N; I promise I’ll introduce Jiminie and Kookie next chapter, I just wanted to get all the introductory stuff out of the way early on without making the chapters too long! Also, thank you so much for the positive responses on Beautifully Misfit part 1! It means a lot, and I hope you enjoy part 2!

“Are you sure it’s enough?” You asked for the twenty thousandth time.

“Y/n,” Namjoon sighed, “you practically bought out the entire store, I’m pretty sure you’re set for the next twelve decades.”

“But what if there’s something I missed?”

“Trust me, you’re not missing any of the general necessities. You don’t even know what breed of hybrid you’re going to get and somehow you’re already over prepared.”

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “I suppose, I might have gone a bit overboard?”

He laughed loudly, “what gave it away? The king sized bed you ordered or the five thousand dollars worth of miscellaneous items?”

Humming in thought, you meekly interlaced your fingers behind your back, swaying a bit in your step, “a bit of both?”

Shaking his head at your ridiculous antics, he let out a light hearted chuckle, pulling you into his side. “You are one of a kind, you know that?” You smiled brightly up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“So I’ve been told.”

But the light aura surrounding you seemed to crack as you approached the building. A sudden bout of uncertainty and nervousness gripped at your heart and mind.

You were finally here. After weeks of preparing your home for your new addition, endless hours of researching, and having several mental breakdowns in the arms of your best friend, you had finally arrived at the hybrid shelter.

It was almost surreal.

And definitely terrifying.

The shelter itself had been difficult to find. Originally, you’d believed it was fine to just pop into any random hybrid shop, because there was pretty much one on every block. Hybrids were very common, especially in the area you were currently living in. One prominent change in society a few years back was the climb in hybrid normality.

They’d once symbolized wealth and high status, but as their population increased, their value dropped and therefore, they were within reach of the ordinary man and woman. Within a span of two years, they became normal to have in everyday households.

Back when you were in middle school, there was only one girl who’s family was wealthy enough to own a hybrid. And she made sure to rub it in everyone’s face every chance she got.

But now, one glance down a street and there were usually at least three within view.

Unfortunately, this sprout in population came with several prominent downsides.

It wasn’t rare to hear of underground hybrid fighting rings. Men and women used hybrids as a source of entertainment, their own twisted amusement. The death of a hybrid in those fighting rings was like some sick joke on the street.

It was also not unusual to hear of hybrids being used for… sexual activities. Whether it be the owner abusing their power over a hybrid and taking advantage of them, or a hybrid being sold by a new form of pimp for money and power. It was a messed up system.

There were organizations that countered these issues, fortunately. Organizations that were dedicated to saving and protecting hybrids, as well as finding safe forever homes for them. Like H4H, ‘Home for Hybrids,’ which was where Namjoon had adopted Jin from and where you were currently going to adopt your own.

It was one of the most well known Hybrid protection organizations in the nation, and one of the most well credited. Unlike many other hybrid ‘rescues’, H4H took good care of their residents, treated them fairly and without abuse, tending to each hybrids unique needs in the most effective way possible.

You may or may not have read that off their website home page.

But it seemed legit enough. Namjoon approved of it, and you trusted Namjoon. He was good at this kind of thing.

“What’s with that face?” He nudged you gently in the side, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Just a little nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you nodded confidently, eyes flickering over the exterior of the shelter. It was big. Really big. You wondered how many hybrids were inside. Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Okay, that’s be an exaggeration, but possibly close to!

That thought alone sent another wave of unease over your restless mind.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Namjoon asked, concern obvious in his tone. He knew how you could be in these types of situations. You know, with decisions and all that. Especially life changing ones.

You quickly shook your head.

“No! No, I’m sure. I can do this by myself. I want to do this by myself,” you said, determination burning in your eyes. Your best friend smiled down at you adoringly, nodding in understanding.

“Alright. Good luck, Y/n,” He pecked your cheek, before turning to leave, only to pause at the feeling on your hand on his wrist. He looked back at you with furrowed brows, nearly melting into the damn floor at the look on your face.

This meant a lot to you. It really did. There weren’t a lot of important things in your life at the moment, but this was important. So important in fact that you’d spent the last few nights damn near tearing your hair out in a nauseating mixture of raw terror and unbridled excitement. Which was more overpowering was debatable.

“How… how will I know?”

He smiled reassuringly, flicking your forehead gently. “Trust this old dusty thing. You’ll just know. Don’t overthink it and don’t force it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come naturally.”

You swallowed. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this.”

“Damn right you got this,” He egged you on, playfully shoving you towards the massive center, “now go before you chicken out and bury your regret in a gallon of ice cream.”

Whipping around you threatening raised a hand at him, but he just laughed loudly and scurried out of arms reach, waving encouragingly as he got into his car. “You’ll be fine! I believe in you!”

You only flipped him the bird, earning a few looks from passerby’s.

“That Kim Namjoom,” you grumbled under your breath in aggravation, in spite of the smile that touched your lips.

With renewed confidence, you squared your shoulders, raising your chin as you struck a quick power pose. “I’ve got this.”

Yeah… you don’t got this.

As soon as you entered the building, your mind went blank. The lobby resembled that of a five star hotel, wide and modern and absolutely gorgeous. There were at least fifteen other people, some working there, others on a similar mission as you.

“Hello.”

You let out a yelp of shock, whipping around to come face to face with an unfamiliar boy.

He was very handsome, with brightly shining eyes and the kind of smile that would normally have you swooning in seconds had it not been for your buzzing nerves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked a little lost and overwhelmed. I’m going to assume that it’s your first time?”

You could only nod, cheeks warming faintly. Had you really looked that out of place?

The boy’s smile widened and he politely raised a hand for you to shake, “my names Jung Hoseok. I work here, as you can probably guess by the uniform and name tag. I’d be glad to help you out, if you’d like?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, cringing as your voice cracked, “and yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right this way, Y/n.” He took a step back, extending an arm to gesture at two large glass doors. Stifling any remaining unease, you allowed him to guide you through, immediately filling with curiosity. There was a hallway with three more doors, each with a large label across the top. The first read domestic, the second aquatic, the third exotic. “Any specific preference?” He asked, turning to you with another bright smile.

“Uh… domestic?”

“Good choice, I usually recommend exotic and aquatic hybrids for experienced owners. They can be a bit more of a handful and far more high maintenance, especially when it comes to their unique requirements. They can be quite pricy.” He explained with a playful click of his tongue that coaxed a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I don’t doubt that,” you couldn’t imagine the kind of home a person would need to own an aquatic hybrid, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but do you have a hybrid of your own?”

“I do, actually! A grumpy munchkin cat hybrid, his names Yoongi. I adopted him from this very place four years ago. He’s actually the reason I became passionate about hybrids,” he gushed fondly, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes shined as he spoke, betraying just how dearly he loved this Yoongi.

“Was he your first?” You questioned.

He nodded. “My first and only!”

Immediately any restraint you had on your curiosity burst like an overstretches rubber band. “What was it like? How’d you know that he was the one you wanted? And what was it like bringing him home for the first time? Did it just click or did it take time? You said he was grumpy, has he ever bitten or scratched you? Shit, none of these hybrids bite, do they? I don’t tolerate pain very well so I don’t know just how well I’d be able to cope with being bit or scratched or—”

You began to ramble off question after question, his eyes going wide as he tried to process your words as quickly as they came shooting from your lips. But his shocked expression quickly turned to a gentle smile. At the feeling of his hand resting gently on your shoulder, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, face heating as you realized your mistake.

Leave it to you to have the biggest mouth of the century.

Hoseok was quick to cut off the apology that was seconds from being spit from your mouth with soothing words, “you’re nervous. That’s okay, I was, too.”

“Really? I’m not just loosing my mind over nothing?” Your lips turned upwards sheepishly as your shoulders rose.

A bright laugh bubbled on his lips at that, quickly shaking his head. “No, no, not at all. You’re bringing an entirely new living being into your home. Someone that you’ll be responsible for not only taking care of, but loving and protecting to the best of your ability. If you do that, then they will show you that same love and compassion in return. It’s an relationship of mutualism, give and you will receive. Trust and you will be trusted.”

Trust and you will be trusted.

You stared up at the boy beside you in awe, amazed by his wisdom. “Shit, you really do know your stuff, huh?”

He playfully popped his collar, giving a modest shrug. “I try.” You laughed loudly, him grinning happily at having been able to ease a bit of the tension that had been weighing down your shoulders. “Now come on, its time to find you your perfect new family.”

Family. That’s right. Family. You liked the sound of it.

Excitement overwhelmed the previously buzzing nerves that now lay dormant.

You hovered close behind him, fidgeting as he swiped his key card over a recognition device, a low beeping sound filling the hall before a notable click. With one last smile shot in your direction, he pulled open the door.

And you swear to god, you damn near dropped dead at the sight before you (in the ‘it’s so fluffy you could die’ kind way).

Hybrids–fucking–galore.

It was like a little pet paradise. Toys for every species and massive bean bags adorned freshly polished hardwood floors.

And the hyrbids. Dear god they were adorable.

“Wow,” you murmured, heart warming at the sight of two young cat hybrids playing happily with a unwinding ball of yarn. There was a group of puppy hybrids wrestling in the corner, playfully batting at one another and rolling across the floor. You smiled, giggling quietly until a sharp yell of pain split through the upbeat atmosphere.

“You bit him!” One cried in shock.

“I–I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, I swear!” A dark brown haired boy with large eyes spoke frantically. He tried to reach for the one that had yelped only to be harshly shoved away, a growl tearing from his throat.

“This is why no one likes to play with you! Because you’re just a stupid mutt.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You should be. I better not get any of your filthy diseases.”

“I don’t have any d–diseases!”

“Liar, you’re a disgusting, diseased mutt. Why do you think no one ever wants to keep you?”

“Shut up!” The brown haired boy shouted, delivering a rough shove to the over boy’s shoulders, sending him flying to the ground.

“Tae!” Hoseok was quickly leaving your side, running over to the two as they began to fight in a much less playful way than before. You could only watch with wide eyes as he intervened, pulling the two growling pups away from each other. “Both of you calm down before you get your snack time taken for the next week!”

That shut them up real quick.

Crossing him arms over his chest, he glanced back and forth between the hybrid, a hard but concern expression on his face. “Would either of you like to explain what just happened.”

“Taehyung bit me!” The first and much larger boy was quick to bark out. Haha. Bark out. Get it because they’re both dog hybrids? No, okay. Moving on,

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Taehyung cried out desperately, “I tried to say sorry but he pushed me and started saying really mean things!”

“Did not.”

“Did to!”

“Hey! Stop that right now! You’re both acting like immature puppies, you know that is not how we behave.” They snapped their jaws shut obediently, heads lowering as they were scolded.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” Taehyung whimpered, tugging at his sleeve meekly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Tae. You need to apologize to each other.”

He looked far less thrilled about that, but spit out a soft ‘sorry’ to the other hybrid nonetheless.

The larger grunted stubbornly, turning away, chin held up pridefully. “Sehun, apologize to Taehyung. Now.” Hoseok voice was quiet but surprisingly firm. Sehun let out a low sound of frustration, eyes flicking back over to where they stood.

“Sorry.”

“Very good, thank you. But you both know the consequences of fighting.” The two canines quietly whined in protest. “Ah–ah… none of that. After lunch and dinner you’ll both be helping the staff clean up and wash dishes. Now back to your rooms for an hour, alright?”

Sehun shot one last sharp glare in Taehyung’s direction before stalking off, fluffy golden tail lowered. Taehyung bit his lip, worriedly looking up at Hoseok. “I’m real sorry, Hobi. Are you mad at me?”

Hoseok rested a hand between Taehyung’s dark ears, scratching reassuringly. “No, of course I’m not mad, Tae. I know it was an accident.” The dark haired hybrid whimpered happily in relief, nodding and scampering off. But for a brief moment, his eyes met yours. You could’ve sworn a blush touched his cheeks before he offered a welcoming wave and disappeared behind a set of doors.

“You handled that incredibly well,” you chimed.

Hoseok chuckled softly, “you learn how to handle situations like that after a few go arounds.”

“Who were they?”

“Sehun and Taehyung? Sehun is a German Shepard hybrid. He hasn’t been here for too long. But Tae…” he sighed softly, shaking his head, “he’s been in and out of this place since he was five.”

“Shit.”

“I know. He’s a good boy, he really is. He’s just been dealt a bad hand,” suddenly, he got this really sad look on his face, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, “listen. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but…”

“But?” You urged, taking a step closer to him as his voice lowered.

“There was talk of him being put down if it doesn’t get adopted soon.”

Horror. Absolute horror.

“P–put down?” You repeated, praying that he would say you misheard. He nodded sadly, lips tightening. “That’s… that’s horrible. I didn’t realize this was a kill shelter.”

“It’s not meant to be. They’ve never put a single hybrid down before that I know of. But the higher ups are saying that his quality of life will just keep declining if he continues to be adopted and sent back. Things like that take their tole on hybrids mental health, which subsequently affects their physical health. Hybrids that suffer from mental illnesses are ten times more likely to become ill and far less likely to recover from something as seemingly simple as the common cold.”

“I never knew that.”

“Naturally, hybrids seek companionship. We all do to some extent, but hybrids with their animal counterparts actually need it. It’s not a matter of what looks good for the shelter. It’s a matter of whether this hybrid will be driven to extremes.”

“Extremes?”

“It’s possible that he may become feral.“

You felt yourself stiffen.

You’d done enough research to know what feral meant. His animal instincts would take over his mind, all human aspects ground into dust. He would become a danger to anyone around him. And would more likely than not end up being put down.

But you couldn’t picture the sweet boy with the big brown eyes becoming something so vicious and inhuman.

“That’s awful,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the worker beside you. He nodded in agreement nonetheless. Suddenly, you turned to him, eyes wide, “I would like to meet him.”

His own eyes enlarged hopefully, “really? You genuinely mean it? Because I don’t think he can take being let down again—”

“I mean it, Hoseok. I want to meet him.”

You could see how he was trying desperately to stifle his blossoming excitement.

“I’ll take you to his room!”

815 notes · View notes

makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 247: Todoroki Angst

Previously on BnHA: Ujiko started some kind of procedure on Tomura to make him even more powerful, because that’s what we were all asking for at the end of the last arc, isn’t it? “Horikoshi can you go ahead and make the homicidal nihilist even stronger please and thank you.” Well not to worry, because he’s got our backs! Meanwhile Hawks poked around the villain HQ trying to find out more details about That End Of The World Thing That’s Happening In 4 Months, and came up with squat. But he did successfully pass on his secret message to Endeavor about how “THE CHILDREN ARE OUR ONLY HOPE,” so Endeavor shrugged and was like “fine, HEY CHILDREN, LET’S GO FIGHT CRIME.” Anyways, so I was thinking, do you suppose they all just figured out they’re actually in a shounen manga? Because that would explain a lot.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor gathers the kids together and is all “so tell me about yourselves.” Deku is all “I have two quirks shut up it’s not weird” and says he wants to get better at harnessing his power so that he can use it without it being destructive. Kacchan is all “I’m already strong but I want to become better as a person” and I appreciate how the other characters are able to hold themselves back from exclaiming, “THIS KID’S REDEMPTION ARC... IT’S TOO POWERFUL...!” because I sure the fuck would have if I was there. And then Shouto is all “hey dad, friendly reminder that I’m here because I want to get stronger to reach my own goals, but you’re still a shitty dad and I hate your guts.” Endeavor, to his credit, reacts very appropriately to all three kids (including a resigned “got it” to Shouto, which was in fact the only appropriate response, so props to him for that), and dives right on in to mentoring the shit out of them. He then delivers a challenge -- defeat at least one villain without him beating them to the punch. So that should be fun, and I mean that with complete sincerity. Bring it!

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

oooooh shit we’re starting right on a continuation of the Fuyumi panel from last week. TODOROKI DRAMA ARC INCOMING. THIS IS IT BOYS. THE BIG ONE

omg omg omg

friendly reminder that chapter 242, in which this internship was first announced, came out on September 6. that is six whole weeks that we’ve been waiting for this internship to actually get started for real. I WAS PROMISED CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND UNUSUAL INTERACTIONS AND UNLIKELY BONDS BEING FORMED. and I have been patient, because In Horikoshi We Trust, but is it finally that time now? I just need them to stop hinting at it and finally get to it before I lose my mind okay

so Endeavor is asking Baku and Deku for their character profiles

Deku: “I used to break bones on demand, now I shoot wind from my fists along with the occasional Venom Symbiote”

Bakugou: “I blow shit up and I also have your character development arc, but fast-tracked so that it kicked in before I could fully become a massive prick like you”

meanwhile Shouto just sits there pouting because as we know from the Babysitter’s Club arc (and also from the Sports Festival arc, during which he dragged Deku into a hallway and was all “time to tell you about my tragic past” completely unprompted), he actually has his own character profile on standby ready to go at a moment’s notice, but everyone just keeps it benched all the time. poor Shouto

(ETA: he will not be silenced!!)

so Endeavor is phrasing this in the weirdest way possible, asking them to state “their current ‘assignments’” lol what. at least the second part of this is clearer, with him asking what they want to gain from this internship

okay so Deku says he wants to control his power so that he can “move at max performance.” yes that’s a very good goal for you, World’s Last Hope

lmaoooo

“weren’t you the kid who broke every bone in his arms several times in succession while attempting to KO my youngest child.” way to make an impression Deku

so Deku patiently explains that, yes, but we’re WELL BEYOND the whole bone-breaking stage now and currently at the “trying to master my new SECRET POWER which is still under wraps” stage. get with the times, Endeavor

hahaha here we go. this is so painfully awkward

“yeah so I kind of have a second quirk now. you know. as one does. please ignore how the only other known person to ever have multiple quirks just so happens to be the greatest villain of all time who is currently incarcerated in Tartarus following his last stand during which the number one hero lost all his power. that’s not relevant. anyways so yeah, two quirks, it’s totally normal and not a big deal at all”

what the actual fuck is he going to do once quirks # 3, 4, 5, etc. come along? this is such a disaster it’s not even funny. and by the way, this whole time I’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room that is Katsuki’s face while Deku nearly spills the beans about his so-called secret. but let’s all just acknowledge that it’s amazing and it belongs in a museum

thankfully Endeavor has had more than enough of exercising his brain today after all of that codebreaking, and isn’t even bothering to ask any questions. instead he’s just like, “show me.” probably the right call; easier to just see wth he’s going on about rather than keep listening to this strange and incredibly suspicious explanation

here we go guys time for some BLOOP

that’s because you’re still scared of it! boy if you’re not going to listen to Katsuki then I hope Endeavor can knock some sense into you at least!

you know, Endeav may be scowling so hard his face is gonna get stuck that way, but so far he’s not half bad at this mentoring/coaching thing

really appreciate how he jumps straight into asking pertinent questions about what Deku wants to do with this new quirk, rather than being all “how the fuck do you go from breaking all of your bones to THAT”

so now Deku’s explaining how it works and says he’s been applying the same principles that he uses with Air Force

LMAOOOOO

this right here is the most accurate introduction to Deku that Endeavor could ever have possibly received. THAT’S IT, THAT’S THE CHARACTER

and it also neatly sums up his whole problem with Blackwhip as well, which is just that he’s way overthinking it. no fucking wonder he can’t do anything with it yet! he’s trying to run NASA-level calculations in his head in real time while using it, like wtf. just let loose boi

also can we stop and appreciate how both Bakugou and Shouto are just fucking done. like, Bakugou is one thing, but just look at Todoroki fucking Shouto, Deku’s #1 fan and admirer, being all “wtf I hate Deku now”

LMAO AGAIN

Burnin’ is quickly rising through my favorite character ranks. meanwhile Shouto has gleaned, quite correctly, that those were in fact words coming from Deku’s mouth. what kind of words is a mystery, but at least it’s something

omfg Endeavor can speak Deku

(ETA: one of the things I’m noticing on a reread is how Endeavor is approximately twice the size of the kids. and it’s not like they’re small or anything. but they look like toddlers next to him. he’s only 6′4″ how is he towering over them to this degree.)

I feel like Endeavor’s intelligence levels fluctuate from week to week. or even from panel to panel. enigma

so blah blah blah he’s thinking to himself “his raw power rivals All Might’s” and then -- ! LOOK AT THIS SHIT

SOFT ENDEAVOR ADOPTING DEKU WTAF. holy shit. if anyone says they saw this coming, I’m calling you out as a fucking liar. BUT I’M HERE FOR IT OMG

AND NOW THIS ONE’S TURN!

(ETA: Kacchan is 5′7″. pretty sure Endeavor is actually 8 feet tall.)

lmao Deku’s face. trying to work out what this means and whether it’s good or bad

meanwhile, after the multiple pages of extensive rambling from Deku, Endeavor is about to get an introduction from Bakugou which will likely just consist of “I WANT TO BECOME THE NUMBER ONE” with absolutely no introspection whatsoever. basically the polar opposite of Deku. gotta love it

HERE WE GO

ooh, unexpected! though still brusque. but to be fair, he’s gifted when it comes to saying a lot in few words

(ETA: out of the three, Kacchan definitely took up the least amount of time with his introspection. not bad for a kid who used to think the entire fucking world revolved around him. growth!)

now he’s bitching at Burnin’ for not having anything better to do than stand around heckling them lmao

SHE’S HERE TO PROVIDE COMMENTARY KATSUKI SHHH. in other news, today I learned that Burnin’ is actually me. huh

OH MY GOD KATSUKI IS METAING -- !! [ELBOWS MY WAY INTO THE FRONT ROW] EVERYONE FUCKING SHUT YOUR MOUTHS AND LISTEN!!!!

OH MY GOD

y’all Katsuki really just fessed up and admitted to needing to work on his growth as a person rather than his physical ability. along with a NEW ADORABLE CHILDHOOD FLASHBACK, EXCUSE ME WHILE I ORDER PRINTS OF THIS TO PUT IN MY WALLET

AND HERE WE GO NOW, THE WHOLE “I WANT TO SURPASS THE NUMBER ONE” PART. BUT IT WAS SO MUCH DEEPER THAN I EXPECTED, KATSUKI YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE ME PROUD! LOOK HOW DETERMINED HE IS TO BE A BETTER PERSON

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, IF YOU’RE NOT ROOTING FOR BAKUGOU KATSUKI THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN READING THIS MANGA HONESTLY

OMG ENDEAVOR

“this kid...” REMINDS YOU OF SOMEONE, DOESN’T HE! OH MY GOD I NEED TO SIT AND CALM DOWN AND DRINK SOME WATER

anyway so do you love him. YOU BETTER SAY YES!!

LMAO SHOUTO COULDN’T HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER

LET’S HEAR IT THEN, FIVE PEEPEE MAN!!

Endeavor is whipping back around on him all “I THOUGHT YOU CAME HERE TO MASTER YOUR NEW TECHNIQUE” with this look of borderline panic on his face that implies to me that it’s one thing to take on two new kids with no familiar baggage, and quite another to have to deal with his own son’s personal angst which is directly related to his own worst personal shortcomings and sins! but that’s just too bad, Endeavor! also, fuck you!

OH MY GOD TODOROKI SHOUTO HAS THE SOFTEST SADDEST EXPRESSION AND THIS SPEECH IS GOING TO MAKE ME CRY WHAT THE HELL

even Kacchan has gone soft. meanwhile, is somebody cutting onions in here or

(ETA: also, Kacchan really has been promoted to best friend status, hasn’t he? or co-best friend at least. Shouto really does value their time training together, huh. “spending time with these guys.” anyways so this officially is the TodoBakuDeku arc, sorry everyone I don’t make the rules.

also! I really love how Shouto’s character development has been all about him finally figuring out what it is that he wants. one way or the other, Endeavor has been the focus of his life since childhood. everything he did was centered around him, even when it was centered around defying him. it was still always him, and never Shouto. because he’d been raised as his father’s tool, he struggled with feeling like anything he achieved was just giving his father exactly what he wanted. so he never really had the freedom to strive toward his own goals until Deku finally broke him free of that mindset. it wasn’t until he was surrounded by others who shared the same dream he’d once had that he was able to move past the toxic part of that resentment. not to say that it wasn’t justified, because it was! and is, still. but all the same, it was hurting him at least as much as it ever hurt Endeavor, if not much more so.

so I really like the message his arc sends here, which is that forgiveness is not so much for the benefit of the one who hurt you as it is for yourself. and that’s obviously not the right word for it, by the way -- “forgiveness” -- but it’s just a placeholder for lack of a better one. because obviously as we can see, he hasn’t forgiven him, but what he has done is put that part of his past behind him. for his own sake, for his own peace, which he deserves. anyways guys Shouto is so fucking strong and I love him so damn much. shit.)

“y’all didn’t think I was gonna put the Terrible Trio together with Endeavor and not follow through on it with piles and piles of Todoroki angst,” Horikoshi says, casually filing his nails with one eyebrow raised. “c’mon”

here it comes y’all

ain’t no force on this earth more dramatic than a Todoroki. did he somehow get a wind blowing in from somewhere. aren’t they indoors

loool Endeavor getting DRAGGED LIKE AN UNTIED SHOELACE in front of these kids he just met two seconds ago, oof. “don’t forget dad, just because I’ve mellowed out a bit and accepted that I need to learn how to use my fire side doesn’t mean I don’t still hate your guts because BOY DO I.” oh damn

so your kid is justifiably pissed at you for your decade and a half of abuse, not to mention annoyed that you’re just putting it all behind you now and acting like it never happened. but it’s not like it’d make things any better if he just went back to acting like a jerk with these new kids! so here we all are, with no easy answers for this situation. what’s a 45-year-old man trying to make up for his past sins to do

(ETA: boy I just took a stroll around the ol’ fandom and a lot of people have really strong feelings about this huh. the most common sentiment seems to be “YAASSSS SHOUTO”, which I can 100% get behind. but it seems like a lot of people are also angry that Shouto is in this situation to begin with. specifically, we have the usual faction of people who are upset that Endeavor is getting any kind of redemption arc at all, and would prefer if he remained eminently hatable and shunned and detested for the rest of his days.

and look, I get it. humans are hardwired to want things to be fair. we want karma. kindness should beget kindness, and cruelty should net you the same treatment in return. reap what you sow. and while some crimes occasionally fall into a grey area, it hardly gets more black and white than Endeavor’s case. not only is there the child and spousal abuse, there’s also the incredibly dubious consent issues that arise in the case of an arranged marriage. like, there’s really no question that what he’s done is bad. so to see behavior like that “rewarded” by his becoming the number one hero, and to see people actually admiring him, and to watch him taking steps to turn his life around even as his wife and children struggle to gather the shattered pieces of their own lives -- yeah, that’s gonna trigger something in a lot of people. because it’s not fair. he hurt good people who didn’t deserve it, and all of this makes it seem like he’s getting away with it.

but here’s the thing -- there are different types of penance. there’s punishment, but there is also atonement. and Endeavor is getting his just desserts in some ways -- by being forever denied the chance to reach the goal that he worked his whole life toward, and by finally developing a conscience, the better to fully experience the remorse of knowing the pain he brought about to his family. but what’s arguably more important than that is that he also has the opportunity to try and atone for some of the terrible things he’s done, by doing good in the world now. he is a hero. his job is to help people. every day he is making the world a little better by doing that. and that, to me, is such a fascinating idea: a terrible person doing good things. and it’s something that feels almost counterintuitive, and that’s part of why a lot of people have so much trouble accepting it, I think. but it’s a fact of life, isn’t it? if good people can do bad things, then it stands to reason that the reverse is true as well.

and I’ll just come right out and say it -- for me, if it comes down to a choice of having someone be punished, or having them be forced to do good things to atone, I’m gonna go with the latter just about every time. because while it may not feel quite as viscerally satisfying, it’s the option that produces the greatest net benefit for the world. without Endeavor, the world would have one less person out there battling evil. and as I suspect we’re going to continue to see in this arc, there are other, subtler ways that he can still do good as well.

so yeah. it’s a tricky thing. but to be honest, the ability to explore this type of complexity is one of the things I respect the most about Horikoshi’s storytelling. he’s not taking the easy way out here. he’s not giving us easy answers one way or the other. no matter what kind of resolution we get to this character arc, it’s not going to be something that will satisfy everyone. but that’s just how it is. anyways, apologies for the rant.)

hmmm Endeavor

yeah you really read that one wrong. anyway I guess it’s your turn to make a speech now

...

classic Endeavor

(ETA: actually truth be told, that was quite eloquent, and pretty much the only thing he could have said in response to all that. it’s not like he can even begin to justify all of his actions, and pretty much anything else that came out of his mouth would have come off like an attempt to dismiss his son’s feelings, or him trying to weasel out of taking responsibility. there is pretty much nothing else he can say here except for “I understand. that’s valid, and I fucked up.” which this is pretty much acknowledging. anyways this whole chapter is basically the sequel/continuation to 192 and I’m loving it omg.)

so he says he’ll watch over the three of them as a hero, and lead them in hero stuff

oh, I wasn’t going to post this panel, but now Endeavor’s saying “those are the three fundamental skills sought after from a hero” so I guess I should, huh

ooh he says that generally heroes will choose to specialize in either rescue or battle, but his policy is to kick ass at all three. well that’s one similarity between him and All Might, at least. if you’re not here to both win and rescue then what are you even doing with your life am I right

damn there really is a reason why this guy is the number one huh

okay, like. not to knock like 99% of the other heroes out there, but is anyone else sitting there thinking “wow, finally someone competent” or is it just me. like, I really do get a sense of “he’s got it all under control” from him which is lacking with pretty much all of the other heroes. no wonder society is on the verge of being in shambles. what we really need is for all heroes to be this capable, and not just All Might or Endeavor or whoever happens to be the current number one

okay, Endeavor is really out here being a genuinely good mentor, I’m speechless

holy shit

-- WHAT, NO! ARE WE ALREADY DONE?? WHY

okay but I do love that, though. it’s a perfect goal for them. difficult, but not impossible at the rate they’re growing. and it also just so happens to be something that they need to be able to do if they really are going to be the shoulders that society is resting all of its hopes upon. and last but not least, it’s something that all three of them will be able to set their minds too gladly. kick this old man’s ass, kids

anyways. ladies and gentlepeople this chapter was only thirteen pages. shortest chapter we’ve had in a minute. but at least it was densely packed! even if Shouto took up like half of it with his Daddy Issues Speech. that’s okay Shouto we always welcome your daddy angst

all in all I am satisfied. character development, and finally a clear goal for the arc. though part of me would also love it if they manage to achieve this in like the very next chapter. you never know with these wunderkinds lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 247 #endeavor #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha meta #makeste reads bnha #well here I am back from six flags at 1:30 a.m. and ready to rant about bnha in the middle of the night #I guess technically speaking it's not *that* late #in tumblr time anyway #anyway my bad sorry guys!

129 notes · View notes

kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

Carefree

Description: Steve is stressed out and fed up, and finds himself being slightly rude with a complete stranger.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 5,470 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: G

Warnings: None. Minus an awkward Steve. And maybe a cuss word or two, can’t remember. Oh, and maybe a slight Endgame spoiler, if you squint really hard.

Requested: Yes, from the lovely @casuallydarktiger ♥️♥️♥️ Thank you for another amazing Marvel O/S request!! You’re keeping me busy little one and I love it!!

A/N: This is an AU set in the ‘everyone lives happily in the tower’ world. But anywho, hope you enjoy!!

Stress. A simple 6 letter word that seems so small, so insignificant, so unassuming at first, when taken out of context. But when you really think about it, truly put thought into it and dig just a little deeper under the surface, it is actually a much, much larger word then it originally appears.

Take the ‘Iceberg Theory’ for example. As with an iceberg, our eyes can only see what lies above the surface, therefore allowing us to believe that that’s all that exists. But under the surface, well, that’s where the majority of its mass is actually located. Now, most of us have probably heard of this theory at some point in our lives. And know that it’s what’s hidden below, or inside, that truly makes up whichever thing it is that we are referring to. The parts we can’t see, the parts we can just pretend don’t actually exist. But deep, deep down, we know that they’re there. Just like the mass of an iceberg, quietly enduring without any help from us.

However, that’s where they differ. Stress may not always be voluntary, but the majority of the time it is brought on, or made worse, by our own doings. As we sit and worry, or overthink, or blame ourselves for the littles things. The things that really don’t matter in the grand scheme but yet, we fixate endlessly on them.

It’s a snowball effect, really. Once you start going down that proverbial rabbit hole, it’s hard to pull yourself out again. And once you allow it to worm into your mind, it usually sets up shop and decides to stay for a while. Bringing along with it a lengthy list of emotional, physical, cognitive and behavioural symptoms, as well. You know, just to make it that much more enjoyable for us all—not.

So why are we talking about stress, you ask? Well probably because right now, at this exact second, Steven Grant Rogers is a walking embodiment of the word. The very definition of stressed; which is experiencing mental or emotional strain, or tension.

Now normally, Steve’s stress levels are usually pretty high, higher than most that is. What with waking up 70 years in the future, after he thought he’d given his life for his country. Given his life to end the war. Only to then be pulled from the ice, and thrusted into a world he didn’t know. One he didn’t even recognize. And one that was still very much at war. The exact same war he believed he’d ended, 70 years ago, with his sacrifice. Yeah, that alone was enough to cause his stress to skyrocket, and stay there.

But then you add learning that aliens did, in fact, exist. As he very much had to fight against them in the streets of his own city.

Then, learning that Norse Gods were also real, and that they weren’t the only things out there in the universe. No, there is actually a vast number of beings living out there, beyond the stars. So yeah, that can really make a man feel small in comparison. And cause some very unwanted stress.

But oh, we aren’t done just yet. There was also that little fact that he’d learned about his best friend, damn near his brother. The one where it turns out that he’d actually lived through the fall, and had been alive all these years, under the control of the very organization Steve believed he had ended. And that Bucky had been doing their dirty work all along. Brainwashed and controlled. Getting Bucky back wasn’t easy, but they’d managed to do it and break the hold Hydra had on him. So that’s a plus at least.

Oh, and let’s also not forgot about the robots. Yeah, not the cute little ones used in factories or in homes. But the ones that thought for themselves, and grew smarter and stronger with the knowledge that they acquired. The ones that tried to wipe out the Avengers and take over the world. Oh yeah, that was stressful as hell. To say the least.

However, it’s what came after the robots that really stressed Steve out. The Accords. The war between the Avengers. Having to pick a side regardless of who you’d be going up against. Colleagues, friends, family. And then the whole ‘being on the run for years’ thing. And that was all before finally having to fight a mad titan—which turns out also exists, go figure.

And even though they had managed to beat Thanos, eventually. It still didn’t really relieve any of Steve’s stress. Because he knew it was only a matter of time before something else big happened. Some other threat to the world would arise, and forced him to once again put on his suit and risk his life for everyone else’s.

We also have to take into account his regular every day stress. His stress over missions. Over the people he knows, and loves, being hurt or worse. And that’s just the beginning, we aren’t even going to speak on what his PTSD adds to his stress levels, but you can imagine that it doesn’t help matters, at all.

He had gotten somewhat used to it all though, learned to live with it at least. But it seemed every day something new was added to the lengthy list of things to worry about. Today’s addition? How about Steve being informed that mandatory press releases would become a new thing in his life, and that they were to start the following day.

The Accords had been thrown out after Thanos’ attack, but the Avengers now had to answer to the public in new ways. They’d start holding press releases of their own to keep the world informed, and to help the world accept them again. To trust them again.

Steve wasn’t a fan of the limelight, he hadn’t ever been, really. Especially not back when he was the face of the US Army, doing shows all over to help recruit men and sell bonds. That wasn’t a good time in Steve's life. He’d signed up to help fight the war, not to parade around on a stage in a tight outfit, punching fake Nazi’s and making an ass of himself.

Steve sighed and glanced around the busy street he was currently walking along, yanking his ball cap down lower over his face as he did. He caught a glimpse of a coffee shop sign up ahead, one he’d never been to before and figured another cup of coffee wouldn’t do any harm. It’s not like it would stress him out anymore then he already was. And he knew it was going to be a long restless night for him, yet again, so he might as well just stay up. Drink lots of coffee and hang in the gym, making some poor punching bag suffer for his stress.

He pushed open the door and found the shop pretty empty. Aside from a few people at various tables, with books or laptops open. Lost in their own worlds and not paying any attention to the people around them. Which was a huge relief for him.

He made his way up to the counter and glanced up at the massive black chalkboard hanging on the back wall. There were a bunch of weirdly named drinks that he had no clue what they were. But before he could put anymore thought into that, a voice broke through his mind.

“See anything you like?” A feminine voice asked, and he looked down to see a small woman, with her neck twisted as she glanced up at the board with him.

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just have a coffee. Black.” He paused, “I can just get that, right?”

She giggled and turned to face him, “of course, what size can I get cha?”

“Oh, uh, a large?” He asked, hesitantly. Why ordering a simple coffee now a days was so difficult, Steve would never understand.

She just smiled sweetly and nodded, “alright, large it is, and is that to go?”

“Yes, please,” he gave a quick nod.

“Perfect, that’ll be $2.10.”

He quickly patted himself down to search for his change, pulling out his keys and a few other random things as he did. Placing them down on the counter then continuing to search. Finally he found his money, paid her, then collected up all his things and tucked them back away in his various pockets.

She smiled and gave him his change then grabbed a large to-go cup from next to the till and spun around to start making his drink, “one large black coffee, coming right up.”

Steve moved off to the side, and stood under the ‘Pick Up’ sign to wait for his drink. A few moments later she came over and handed him his drink, giant smile still on her face, “here you go, sir.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and then headed for the door. He figured it was time to head back to the tower, he’d been out all day and even with his disguise people had recognized him. Which he figured wasn’t hard, as he was rather large and sort of stood out like a sore thumb.

But all it would take is one person recognizing him, and then he’d be stuck in the same stop for hours. As once someone got a photo with him, others would then ask. It was like a domino effect, a never ending line up of fans. All asking for an autograph, a photo, or just his time.

Normally he was okay with it, normally it didn’t bother him that much. Even though he hadn’t exactly signed up for the fame. Then after the ice he’d started out anonymous, wearing a mask, but that didn’t last long. Eventually the mask was taken out of his ensemble, and the exhibit at the Smithsonian was opened, and then everyone and their dog knew who he was. Gone were the days of his anonymity.

But today, today he just wanted to be left alone. They’d all get a piece of him tomorrow, in the stupid forced press conference. The least they could do is let him have this one day to himself—Though he knew the second he felt a hand on his bicep, urging him to turn around, that that original hope was clearly asking too much.

“Sir,” the voice, he assumed was attached to the hand currently on him, spoke from behind him.

He halted his steps, hoping to brush this person off, gently but quickly, as to not draw too much attention to himself. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Look, I apologize, but I’m in a real hurry here and don’t have the time for this right now,” he said curtly. And he honestly didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so rude, but he was frustrated and just all together done with being out in public. He finally spun to face the intruding fan, “I can sign a quick autograph if you’d like, but I really have to,” his words trailed off as he took in the woman—Or rather, the super confused expression now plastered all over her face—the same woman who had just made the coffee that was currently in his hand.

“Ah,” she furrowed her brows, “I don’t want an autograph, I just wanted to give you your keys.” She held out her hand, his very distinct set of keys sitting in the middle of her palm, “you forgot them on my counter.”

“Oh, ah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a complete ass now, then took the offered key chain. “Sorry about that, it’s just been a rough day,” he paused, then sighed, “which isn’t a very good excuse to be rude.”

“It’s fine,” she said tersely, with a clipped edge to her voice, a polar opposite tone to the one she’d used when he’d ordered his drink. “Sorry to have bothered you. Just figured you’d need those,” she nodded with her head towards his keys, then abruptly turned around and headed back towards the coffee shop, without another word. Leaving Steve standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk, keys and coffee in hand, feeling like the biggest dick in the world. Probably because at this moment, that’s exactly what he was.

“Darn it,” he sighed then tucked his stupid keys back into his pocket, before shaking his head and mumbling, “way to go, Rogers.”

With a final glance at the direction she’d just gone, but no longer seeing her, he pulled his ball cap down lower on his face once again then turned and headed back to the tower. Feeling like absolute crap the whole way there.

But even once he reached the tower, he still felt horrible for being so short with her. All she’d wanted to do was return the keys he had left behind. And then he had to go and get too big for his own britches. Assuming everyone just wanted something from him due to his super hero persona.

The whole night he was fixated on their interaction. He’d even talked to Bucky about it, the aforementioned had laughed and told him his ‘celebrity status was clearly going to his head.’ Which, didn’t help, at all. But then Buck told him to just forget about it, that things happened and that she probably didn’t even care that much.

However, he joked about keeping an eye out for any news articles about ‘The Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy, and Captain America himself’ being rude to the public; to his fans—Which again, didn’t freaking help. Nor did it ease any of Steve’s stress over the whole thing. It added to it, actually.

He spent the rest of the evening, and following morning, beating the crap out of 5 punching bags. Knowing Tony would have something to say about that, but he’d deal with those consequences later. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

The early morning press conference went better then Steve had thought it would. Tony and Pepper handled most of the questions. Leaving Steve and the others to just basically sit there, looking pretty and answering the odd ones that came their way. He did end up having a few more then the others, being that he was the Captain, but they were all pretty simple questions. Ones he knew the answers to, ones he’d been briefed on before hand. Though the odd praising comment from the reporters had flustered him, and reminded him that the public did, in fact, adore him. And then in turn that had reminded him that he’d been a total ass to that poor woman. And that he had to make it up to her in some way. Somehow. He just needed to.

So that’s how he found himself, pushing open the door to the little coffee shop again, and hearing the jingle of the bells above the door, as he did. Hoping that she’d be working today, so he could actually apologize and make amends.

And as his eyes scanned the shop and landed on a vaguely familiar figure behind the counter, making someone's order, he sighed and got into the line. It was a little busier in the shop today, but not by much. There was a few tables taken up again, just like the day before. And a few people in line ahead of him, which was different from the day before. But he just patiently waited for his turn.

When that finally came, he walked up to the till and as her eyes landed on his face, her smile faltered just slightly, before she corrected it and beamed up at him. To anyone else, anyone other then Steve with his super serum, the falter would have gone unnoticed. But to him, with his enhanced eyesight, he saw it in damn near slow motion.

“Large black coffee to go?” She asked, quickly. And he realized that she did, in fact, remember him. And obviously their interaction from the day before.

“Ah, yeah,” he paused then glanced around. “Actually no, I’ll take a mug this time,” he said as he looked back down at her again.

“Okay,” she nodded, “that’ll be $2.10 again.”

He had the money ready this time, not wanting to chance leaving any more of his belongings behind. He paid her and received his change and then she spun around to make his drink.

He glanced behind himself and noticed there was no one else in line now, so he just continued to stand there. Rubbing the back of his neck, awkwardly, as he tried to figure out what to actually say to her. He’d had it all worked out in his mind earlier, but being here now made what he’d come up with sound stupid.

She placed his drink on the counter, with a quick, “here you are,” and was just about to turn away from him when he spoke up.

“I ah,” he cleared his throat and she paused, turning back at him, with a confused frown on her face. He tried not to let that tongue tie him. “I just wanted to apologize—For yesterday, I mean. It wasn’t acceptable for me to be so short with you. So for that I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she smiled sweetly up at him, “we all have hard days.”

“That doesn’t excuse being rude.”

“It doesn’t, but I get it,” she handed him his mug of coffee, “apology accepted.”

He stood there for a moment just looking at her, this woman who didn’t know him personally but so easily forgave him. So easily calmed his raging mind with two simple words. He had been so nervous about what she was going to say. He’d played out hundreds of outcomes for this moment in his mind, all throughout the night. But her just accepting the apology so quickly, so effortlessly, shocked him. That was not one of the scenarios his mind had come up with. He quickly shook his head, realizing he was still just standing there, silently staring at her. “Thank you for that,” he said earnestly then raised his mug, “and for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

He wandered over to a table near one of the front windows, setting his coffee on top and removing his jacket then sitting down. He had his messenger bag with him, as he took it everywhere, and pulled out his sketchbook and pencils. Here was as good a place as any to draw.

He spent the next half an hour enjoying his coffee, people watching, and drawing the view from the window. Or at least that’s what he’d claim he was drawing, if anyone asked. Really though, he had been secretly drawing the barista. Yeah, that may be a little creepy, but he did plan on giving her the picture. One day. Maybe.

“That’s beautiful,” a soft voice whispered above him and he turned to look up, seeing said barista gazing at his picture of her. After a moment her eyes snapped over to his and she smiled brightly at him.

“I was planning to give it to you, as a peace offering of sorts,” he shrugged and turned to look down at his drawing again. “When it’s finished.”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all,” he gestured to the chair beside him.

She sat down, and then put a fresh cup of coffee down in front of him, “figured you could use a refill,” she smiled at him then gestured to the sketchbook, “do you mind?”

He shook his head, “of course not,” then he handed the sketchbook over to her.

She looked it over carefully, as if to not miss a single detail, “I’ve never had someone draw me before.” She glanced up at him, “you’re very talented. Are you an artist by trade?”

He furrowed his brows, confused, but then a thought ran through his mind. Does she not know? “Uh, no. I’m not. I just draw in my free time.”

“Well, you should be,” she nodded once, as if to say her words were the truest thing she’d ever said. Then after another once over she handed back his sketchbook and smiled. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

She went to get up from the seat but just as she stood fully upright, he realized he wasn’t entirely ready for her to walk away just yet. “You can stay if you’d like,” he offered, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was waiting to be served. “If you won’t get in trouble, that is.”

She grinned and it was cheeky as hell, which was surprisingly different from the smiles he had seen her wear so far. But he liked it even more for that exact reason. “I don’t think the boss will mind too much, and if she does then I’ll just remind her that I’m the boss.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “you own the shop?”

She nodded quickly, “that I do. The perks of being the owner means I can take my breaks whenever I want.” She giggled then glanced around the shop, probably making sure no one was in need of assistance, then she sat back down in the seat. “If this isn’t too forward of me to ask, if you aren’t an artist then what do you do for a day job?”

He stared down at his drawing and scratched the back of his neck, nervously. Does he tell her the full truth and hope she doesn’t treat him any differently? Or does he tell her a half truth and continue on like he’s a normal guy? His eyes drifted up to hers and locked on. And he realized he’d have to be honest with her. He didn’t want to deceive her in any way.

“I’m ah,” he sat up a little straighter and extended his hand to her, “I’m Steve Rogers.”

She stared at him for a moment and then her eyes widened for just a second, before she quickly corrected it and a blush took over her cheeks. “Oh god, how did I not figure that out,” she mumbled, he assumed mainly to herself, though his super serum hearing didn’t miss it. He glanced back down at his drawing again, waiting for whatever reaction she was about to have. And then she spoke up, this time to him, “well, you offering me an autograph makes way more sense now,” she laughed, awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly with her and drummed his fingers on the table, “I apologize again for that.”

She waved it off, “don’t even worry about it. I understand even more now. It can’t be easy to deal with the public all the time.” She frowned slightly, “I can’t imagine just how difficult it is to go anywhere unnoticed.”

“It’s hard sometimes, for sure,” he nodded, “but I’m getting used to it, slowly.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, “and thank you—ya know, for keeping us all safe.”

He smiled—and blushed—not like he could have prevented either, even if he’d tried, “no thanks needed, it’s kind of my job.”

“Well still, thank you,” she said sincerely. Then the bells above the door sounded and she glanced over her shoulder to see a customer entering the shop and stood up, “I better go tend to them, but enjoy your coffee Steve,” she smiled and went to walk away but then he realized something.

“I’m sorry, I totally didn’t even ask you for your name.”

She stuck her hand out, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said back, tasting the name in his mouth as he shook her offered hand, “it was really nice meeting you.”

“Same to you,” she winked then laughed and walked away to help the patron. Steve turned to look over his shoulder, watching as she headed towards the counter then smiled and turned back to his sketchbook. He was even more determined to finish this drawing now.

After an hour of sitting at the same table, drawing and drinking coffee, he got a call from Tony. Something about testing out a new feature for his suit, and needing Steve to come try it on. He packed up his stuff, returned the mug to the counter, gave her the drawing and then with a quick goodbye he exited the coffee house. Adjusting his ball cap and heading back to the tower.

Over the next few weeks he’d return to that little shop anytime he had a chance. Sometimes, when the shop was dead, Y/N would sit with him and they’d just talk about anything and everything. She treated him like an old friend. Like one that wasn’t a famous superhero from the 40’s. She was a breath of fresh air for him, someone who saw him for him. Steve. Instead of the Captain. The legend. And he loved that.

A few times Bucky would tag along on his visits to the shop, wanting to meet the woman who got Steve out of his own head and put a smile on his face. Steve was reluctant at first, but finally caved and let him tag along, knowing Buck would get fed up eventually and just go there on his own. And that wasn’t something Steve wanted. At all. But it turned out his fears for them meeting had been entirely misplaced, Y/N and Bucky hit it off instantly. So well that Buck would occasionally go get coffee on his own, when Steve was off on a mission or busy.

Word spread quickly throughout the tower of the little coffee house that the super soldiers loved. So eventually damn near every Avenger had gone there at one point or another. Clint and Tony almost going there more then Steve now. Y/N didn’t mind one bit, she treated them all just like normal people. Never once fangirling over anyone—Well, she did slightly fangirl over Nat on her first visit, but she had mentioned in passing to Steve that she had a lot of respect for the spy. For everything she stood for and had accomplished in her life. But who wouldn’t respect Nat for how far she’d come.

The more Steve visited, the fonder he grew for Y/N. She was amazing inside and out, even a blind person would have been able to see that. And as his feelings grew for her, he found that just being around her eased his worried mind and made all the stress just fall off him. Like a snake shedding it’s skin. He felt like a whole new man in her company. A feeling he desperately didn’t want to give up.

So after weeks of Bucky, Sam, Nat and Tony harassing him about asking her out, he finally caved and agreed to do it.

He pushed open the door to her shop, the bells he’d become so used to hearing, echoing around the room. To say he was nervous and stressed out about how this would go, was an understatement. He was freaking out. This was a whole new version of stressed that he’s barely ever felt before. Putting your heart on the line isn’t easy. Even for an 100 year old super soldier.

He looked up towards the till and saw just as Y/N turned to look at who was entering the shop. Upon seeing him a giant smile broke out across her face, every one of her features lighting up and accentuating the smile even more. “Steve!” She said happily as she turned back around and started to make his tried and true large black coffee.

“Hey Y/N,” he said as he reached the counter, his nerves skyrocketing the closer he got to her, “how’s the day been?”

“Good, slow,” she turned to glance over her shoulder at him, “staying or going?”

“Staying.”

“Excellent,” she nodded and turned to finish making his drink. And as her back was turned Steve but a few bucks into her tip jar.

After she’d found out who she was, she refused to allow him to pay for any of his coffees. Saying it was her thank you for all he’s done and will do for the world. So instead he’d put money in her tip jar, refusing to not pay for his drink but being at a stubborn stalemate with her. Turns out she rivalled him in the stubborn department, if that was even possible. But she wasn’t a fan of the tip thing. At all.

“Darn it Steven!” She spun around to narrow her eyes at him, “we talked about this. It’s not on the house if you just pay in the tip jar!” She picked up the jar and looked into it, “how much did you put in this time!? I’m going to force you to take it back right now.”

Steve just smirked and shrugged, refusing to tell her anything.

She glared at him then sighed and lowered the jar, putting it back on the counter, mumbling playfully, “you are so frustrating sometimes.” Then she laughed and handed him his drink, “here, and just so you know, I’m going to hide that darn jar next time you come in.”

“That won’t stop me,” he smiled and accepted the coffee, “and thanks.” Then he just stood there, awkwardly. He knew he should just ask her, the worst she could say is no. But he wasn’t ready for the rejection just yet. He just wanted to live in this moment for a second longer, the moment where there was a possibility that she’d say yes. That she’d accept his date invite and that would maybe be the start of something special. Something just for them. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, silently, but the slight frown forming on her face told him it was probably way too long of a time.

“Steve?” She said quietly, then continued cautiously, “are you okay? Did—did something happen?”

He shook his head, “no, no. Everything is okay. I just ah,” he glanced down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, the nerves in her voice noticeable, “what is it?”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and he took a second just to steady his rapidly beating heart, “I was wondering, if you’d maybe like to, I duno,” he shrugged, “go out to dinner with me one day—Maybe this week?”

The frown dropped off her face, but wasn’t replaced by anything. Her expression blank and unreadable for a second before she softly asked, “like,” she cleared her throat, “as in, like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date,” he nodded then added quietly, “that is, if you’d like it to be one.”

He was just about to beg the floor to open up and swallow him whole, that is, until a glorious smile appeared on her beautiful face, and relief flooded through him when he heard her words.

“I’d love that.”

“You would?”

“I would,” she confirmed.

“Oh, okay, great,” he said quickly, “ah, which day are you free then?”

“Tomorrow? I get off at 5:30, if you wanted to meet me here?”

And just like Classic Steve timing, his phone rang and he smiled apologetically at her as he pulled it out and saw Tony’s name on the screen. She nodded, letting him know she understood that he needed to answer it. He stepped away from the counter and exchanged a quick few quiet words with Tony, then hung up and headed back over to her. “Turns out I can’t stay, Tony needs my help with something but tomorrow at 5:30 is perfect,” he smiled.

“I figured if Tony was calling that you’d have to leave, so I put your coffee in a different cup.” She handed him a coffee in a to-go cup, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he took the cup, “and see ya tomorrow,” he said happily as he turned around and exited the shop, heading back to the tower. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. And she had accepted. He was on cloud 9 and never wanted to come back down. He knew the goofy smile on his face would be hard to wipe off, even with Tony’s incoming antics. And to think that all of this came about because he’d forgotten his keys on her counter.

On that thought he turned his head to glance back through the window into her shop. And caught the tail end of her doing a silly little happy dance behind the counter and that only made him smile even more. She was clearly just as excited about this date as he was. And that realization alone made his heart skip a beat, and every worry in his head just vanish into thin air.

And in this exact moment Steven Grant Rogers was the furthest anyone could be from stressed out—the polar opposite of the word actually. For the first time, in a long time, he was truly and completely Carefree.

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

Using my If Only You Knew tag list, hopefully you all don’t mind!! ♥️♥️♥️

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #carefree #everyone lives happily in the tower #alternate universe #coffee shop

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onestowatch · 4 years

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Jimi Somewhere Dives Into an Angelic, Crisis of Faith on Latest Single "Jesus" [Q&A]

Jimi Somewhere is the brainchild of Benjamin Schandy, a 22-year-old artist hailing from Hokksund, a charming town in Norway. Jimi Somewhere's music is influenced by the imaginative work of renowned filmmaker Spike Jonze and the outstanding artistry of Kendrick Lamar, Kevin Abstract, and Frank Ocean. Jimi ties his contemplative lyrics with frenzy electro-pop, ornate hip-hop beats, trippy pop, and multi-layered vocals to produce his very own signature resonance.

Today, Jimi Somewhere shares his new single "Jesus” off his forthcoming debut LP, Nothing Gold Can Stay. We caught up with Somewhere for a quick Q&A about the track's grandiose and "larger than life" feel and the inspiration he pulled from the Christian summer camps he attended growing up.

Ones to Watch: This song has a very spiritual tone and is named after a spiritual figure. It sounds like throughout the song, the main character is going on a spiritual journey or crisis of faith. What is this song about to you, and how did this song come to be?

Jimi Somewhere: A crisis of faith is a good way to put it. That's what it's about to me: faith, doubt, and values. I grew up and out of the church myself, and after I stopped going, I kind of had to reflect on which one of these values to bring along with me in life. There was a lot I was taught in church that I didn't agree with, but then again, a lot of it is just about empathy and humanity. But I needed to have space to figure that out for myself without having any voices in my ears. That's what inspired me to write the song. I was just so frustrated with everything and needed to breathe. Music is also very therapeutic for me. I use it to get it all off my chest.

What was the creative process like for the single? What made you want to go for this very omnipresent, iridescent sound for the track? Were you inspired by anything in particular?

We kind of wanted it to sound like these Christian songs that we would hear at various summer camps growing up. They always had this "larger than life" feeling. You're in the crowd singing, and you feel like you are a part of this big thing. That's what we're chasing. A Hillsong type beat. Only felt right considering the themes on the song. Other inspirations for the song is Coldplay's early stuff, which has been very important to me. The emotional but pretty sadness they often present.

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Do you consider yourself a spiritual person?

I'm not sure. I don't think so. I can, for sure, say I feel very connected though. Like I'll be in nature, and I'll take it all in. But on a day to day basis, I wouldn't say I'm very spiritual. It's something I'd like to dive more into as I'm getting older because I believe the universe is bigger than just us and what you see.

I found myself deeply connecting with a lot of the lyrics, especially the line "I've never met Jesus, but you're the closest to Heaven I've ever come." Do you have a favorite lyric from this track or one that speaks to you? What is your approach when it comes to songwriting?

"For everything I never told my mother, always comes back to get me" is a line I really like. Because it's so true to me. Every time I go against my mother's advice, it ends up negatively affecting my life. So listen to your mothers! They do know best.

Songwriting to me is just kind of throwing up. Just everything I have pent up inside. I don't want to overthink it because if it becomes too conscious, it's usually not that good. The best stuff just falls out.

Kacy Hill's voice is so stunning and perfectly compliments the sonic chaos when she comes in halfway through the song. What was working with her like, and how did she get involved with this single?

Working with her was so sick. She's literally the sweetest person. I've been a massive fan of her for many years and suddenly found out I had a mutual friend. So after bugging him to ask her to come to the studio, she did! I was so embarrassed the first time she came to record but because suddenly our audio interface didn't work. We got all sporadic and were trying to fix it but couldn't. I was thinking like she would hate us for wasting her time and that we blew our shot. But she was so nice about it and came back the next week.

She really just went into the studio and did that. Me and Milo were in the other room, shaking and jumping around. It sounded crystal clear and angelic from the jump. I think her verse brings this comfort and hope that the song was missing. Because it's not all bad, you know. There's light at the end of every tunnel. It was important to me to have that emphasized in the song, and she did that perfectly.

I know "Jesus" is a single coming off of your upcoming Nothing Gold Can Stay. How does it fit into the album overall?

It's one of the first songs on the album, and I thought it would be cool to open an album with such an honest track. Keep the book open from the beginning. The album is also me reflecting on all these things ending in my life. During the ages of 16 - 20, there's a lot of moving out, losing friends, growing up, graduating high school, etc. Faith & wanting a sense of belonging has been a big part of my life during those years so it was important to me to talk about it on the album.

What can people expect to hear from the new LP? I'm sure there's only so much you can share about the album and want to keep a lot of it as a surprise for your fans. Can they expect the same emotional, nostalgic, summery themes from your previous work, or do you feel like you're going in a different direction? Or is Nothing Gold Can Stay going to be a healthy mix of something old and new?

There's for sure a lot the same themes as in the previous work. This is my debut album, so we wanted to make it as "Jimi Somewhere" as possible. Everything else has been building up to this, so we weren't afraid of being a little cliche with it. I just think that's fun. There's definitely some new directions on it as well though. Both sonically and thematic. We never want two projects or songs to sound the same.

Has the pandemic effected you or inspired you as an artist? If so, how?

It just gave us time to create a lot. I live with my producer, so when lockdown happened, we kinda were like, "Ok, let's just be here and work!" We've made so many songs this year. I also got to add that I live in Norway, and we handled it all pretty well in the beginning, so life has been a lot more normal here than what it looks like in the States.

Once the world comes to a state of a new normal, what's the first thing you want to do?

Go back to America! I had so many plans before the pandemic, so I'm trying to make them all happen once I can. But it's just not safe, yet so I'll stay on this side of the ocean until then.

When shows and concerts are back, who do you want to see, and who do you want to tour or play with?

I was supposed to see Taylor Swift live this summer, but it, of course, got canceled. Hopefully, I'll get another chance next year. Just so cool to see such a big production. There's always that dream of doing stadium shows in the future, so I would be in the crowd taking notes. I'm also a huge Taylor Swift fan, so it's the best of both worlds.

Dream tour would be with Lorde because she's been such a big influence on me, and I love her live show. Would not mind hearing 'Writer in the dark' live 30 nights in a row. I also feel like I could learn so much from her. She's only a couple years older than me but seems so wise. So yeah, Lorde, I'm here if you need me just call!

Who have you been listening to throughout the pandemic? Are there any Ones To Watch?

I've been going through so many phases. I had this big Jill Scott phase, where I just listened to "The Light" on repeat all day. Watched this movie "Weathering with you" and got obsessed with the soundtrack. When it comes to Ones to Watch, I wanna recommend this Norwegian band Veps. They're completely new, but my friend sent me their music during quarantine, and it's so good. My favorite song, "Do I Hear a Maybe," is this really sweet, garage rock track with a big hook that I've been screaming around the apartment ever since I heard it. Very fire.

Stream “Jesus” below.

#Jimi Somewhere #Jesus #Pop #Electronic #Indie

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