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sc0tters · 9 months

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Better Off Apart | Luke Hughes

summary: the long awaited day has finally come! Luke is in New York and the Devils are set to play the islanders, but now a third person as slotted themselves into your love equation.

request: yes/no

warnings: this became a bit of a sad chapter, Luke is a boy who doesn’t know how to process his emotions, Mat gets jealous and also doesn’t know how to handle that. The reader is finally in a position where she’s reader to move on.

word count: 1.76k

authors note: I wrote this in an hour I was so excited. I saw that in some requests you guys actually wanted the mc of this to get with a player from the team but I sort of put my twist on that. The rest of the full length chapters for this story have been planned out but I think it could be cool doing a few blurbs for these two, so if you want to see anything in those let me know!

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It had been circled in red pen.

The date on your calendar had been marked the moment you got the NHL calendar announcement.

It was the date that you had been counting the sleeps down to like a child counting down the sleeps till Christmas.

It was the date that you felt so excited for but were also so nervous for that you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building and scream.

It's the date that the Devils were coming to town to play the Islanders.

It's the date that you were going to finally see Luke again.

You knew that you shouldn't have been excited, shouldn't have let your grow full and your palms grow sweaty at the thought of seeing him again.

All of your efforts to forget about him were now nonexistent as you spent moments every day staring at his social media's.

After a drunk night out with friends you unblocked and unrestricted everything that had to do with him, when you woke up much more sober you simply couldn't find it in your heart to or in your head to shut him out anyone.

A few nights ago whilst being sat in front of the tv with a meal from your favourite restaurant, you did something you never thought you would.

You wrote Luke a letter.

Just like you had for each of his teammates.

So you sat and you wrote, making sure to mention everything from how you felt to why you left. Writing that letter was better than any type of therapist as it had brought up things that you had seemed to compartmentalise. There were seven different editions of this letter.

The first two had to be rewritten because you zoned out and came back to see that your tears had soaked the pages.

The next three had you swearing like a sailor as you told him to fuck himself for making you fall so deeply in love with him.

The sixth letter just didn't feel right. You assumed that it was the lack of sleep that was getting to you, so like any mature adult you got up and went to bed deciding that the letter writing efforts would continue the next day.

The seventh and final letter was perfect, you were honestly tempted to email it to your high school English teacher you were that proud of it. It was the perfect way to tell Luke that you were okay that this was goodbye and that you didn't hold anything against him for how he treated you.

Yes you told him that he had hurt you but it helped teach you that some loves just simply weren't worth it.

It was like you had been put through the grieving cycle over the last fifteen hours as you learnt to accept that Luke just wasn't on your cards and that it was probably for the best.

Mat hadn't slipped up from his role of your new best friend, if there wasn't a game on Thursday you two would go get dinner and then sit at his apartment playing card games until the early hours of the morning.

The Canadian had quickly learnt why you were so popular in New Jersey amongst the players and it was one of the things that he was actually so attracted to.

Yes Mat found himself growing more enamoured with you by the day and despite his best efforts you never seemed to notice it.

You never noticed how his eyes lingered on you far longer than appropriate for just friends, or how he'd glare down every man and woman who dared to even look at you when the two of you were out in the town. You never noticed the way you squeezed the life out of his heart the moment you came to Mat's apartment in tears one night as you missed Luke.

The Canadian was hurt, it wasn't even the fact that you weren't interested in him that haunted his thoughts at night. It was the fact that you gave your love to someone who was so cruel to you.

But Mat put on a comforting smile each time he was forced to listen to you spill your heart out on his sleeve as you couldn't get over your failed attempts to get over the Hughes boy.

At one point the Islander player was ready to rip the bandaid off and tell you everything.

He wanted you to know that you were loved.

He wanted you to know that you were wanted and it was by a man who was sat right next to you.

But deep down inside Mat knew that those words would mean nothing to you unless they came from the Hughes boy.

That was the thing about love that was so cruel. Here were two people that wanted nothing more than to be happy. But the reciprocation of those emotions from the people they craved them from the most weren't there.

Yes you loved Mat but you weren't in love with Mat and that different meant everything to him.

So he kept his feelings to himself as he watched you count down the days until the Devils came to town.

He sat there dreading the moment he had to face Luke on the ice, Mat had been watching the meditation videos that you had sent him on repeat as he tried to memorise the various methods of calming himself down that he’d had to use in other to not hit Luke.

It wasn’t because Mat wanted to protect the boy, in fact he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to hurt Luke for all that he had done to you. The Islanders player wanted to see the Hughes boy finally feel some sort of remorse, but he knew that if he laid a finger on Luke you’d get upset. So he was going to have to try to behave.

You woke up practically running out of bed ready to take on the world when the day finally arrived. Part of you was excited to see your friends from the team too and that’s what you told yourself made you so happy.

Luke swore he was going to throw up when he got on the team bus. Sure he was excited to see you in the flesh once more. But after seeing how the every gossip account swore that you and Mat were dating after someone spotted you on another on of your excursions, hope for him was running out. So he spent the last week forcing himself to accept that fact that this was all his fault. Yes he wanted to blame Mat instead but he knew he couldn’t.

If Luke couldn’t be the one to love you then he then simply hoped that the man who loved you, loved you even half as much as he did.

The young Hughes boy felt trapped inside of his mind as he had yet to reveal how he felt about you to anyone. It was partially due to the fact that he knew they’d all laugh at him especially after how he treated you. Yet there was another much larger part of Luke that didn’t want to admit it because one he admitted that he did indeed like you, it meant that it would really be real. At least for now he could act like you were all just simply a figment his dreams and hopes for in the future. He told himself that all he needed as a simply protein shake and his usual pregame playlist blasting through his headphones at a volume that was enough to make his mother cringe as she reminded her son that she didn’t want him going deaf.

Jack noticed the way that his younger brother had gone quiet since he stepped on the bus, the whole team did. As bad as they all knew it sounded none of them bothered checking in on the boy as they all just put it down to him not wanting to see you again.

If only they knew, right?

The youngest Hughes boy knew your routine on game days from your time with the Devils. It was something that he made an effort to learn early on in his attempts to avoid you.

He hoped that you had the same routes mapped out here because Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he caught sight of you.

Now more than ever though it was because he knew he’d start crying on the spot.

Luke wasn’t a crier naturally but he had no clue how he was going to say his apology to you. All of the emotions that you made him feel just made him want to cry due to the sheer panic that was going through his mind.

As the team walked out of the away locker room he heard it.

The sound he had grown to miss.

The sound that brought him this warm sense of comfort in his stomach that he could only describe as funny.

It was the sound of your laugh.

Mat had been telling you a story as you two made your way over to the home dressing room as you had forgotten your folder in there when you took some guests around earlier.

As Luke saw the sight of you it was enough to knock him off of his feet as Jack walked into the back of him “dude,” the middle Hughes boy groaned as he lifted his brother off of the ground totally unaware of the fact that you were stood there.

It was like time stopped for the youngest Hughes boy.

He watched as your eyes locked with his and your lips formed a smile as you sent him a nod.

Mat had seen how you had stopped listening to his story were just simply looking in front of you.

It made the Canadian angry as in that moment he wanted to throw out all of those stupid meditation lessons.

He knew his next move was childish but he didn’t care he sent Luke a harsh glare as Mat threw his arm around your shoulders.

That moment dropped Luke back into reality as he felt like he had just hit a cement wall.

“Luke c’mon!”

There was a game to be played but it seemed that it was quickly coming off of the ice as well.

And you were right in the center of it,

But you didn’t even know it.

#luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey oneshot #imagines #oneshots #better off series

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kiara-ish · 1 year

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IDOL SOLDIER

Chapter 1

Words: 5k+

Summary: The world is changing yet again. People are turning into flesh biting monsters and with all backs to the walls, every second is a war between life and death. You expected a lot in life but never in your wildest dreams did you expect to meet Kim Seokjin in the middle of an apocalypse.

Pairing: Enlisted Soldier!Seokjin x fem!Reader

Genre: Dystopia | Romance

Rating: series rating - 18+ | chapter rating - 16+

Series Warnings: blood, gore, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual harrasment, deaths, graphic descriptions, suggestive themes.

Author's Note: This was initially supposed to be a long oneshot but after scrapping my drafts multiple times, I decided to break it into parts for easy reading and smooth writing too. Also, if I blinded you with that horrible cover, I'm really sorry me and graphics don't go well together. I'll fix it whenever I can.

m.list | next ->

Dystopia always was my favourite trope to write. There was something about hopelessness that always had me taking up the pen. I always supposed it was something rather mundane and humane – to be curious of misery and despair. Until one day when the television that I sometimes left on in the evenings when I felt extraordinarily lonely caught my attention.

"...the rapid growth of the virus Z-24 is shocking. The constant spike in the number of affected is fearsome especially because the medium of transfer is yet to be discovered. What is spreading even more terror is the worsening condition of those infected, they have shown signs of insanity and as the specialists have named it – the zombie syndrome. It is becoming very difficult to reassure the crowd of grieving and worried families outside the hospitals and quarantine. Today, we have with us…"

With the said attention having the span matching that of a goldfish, I was distracted by a ping of notification on my phone and zoned out the news. In hindsight, my listening or not listening to the news wouldn't have made much of a difference. But it might have made me prepare better, it might have allowed me to ponder more on zombie syndrome than Kim Seokjin's nearing end of military service.

Apart from the regulation of wearing masks and sanitizing, there wasn't much havoc about the virus so people took it as seriously as they did coronavirus – scared but reassured that it will be fine sooner or later. So like every other patient citizen, I lost my shit when a lockdown was declared simultaneously with a message from my manager announcing the reduction of the travel allowance because of the change in mode of work.

Going off the texts, my social media was flooded with video clips, hazy, distraught – almost like an illegally filmed video. I knew what they would show but did not want to experience the same fervent panic from the night before. I scrolled past most videos until my clumsy fingers accidentally let go of the phone and in the eager grasp of catching it, a video started playing.

A vlogger was speaking in a broken, hushed voice. His words were unclear nor did I have the motivation to be keener in my observation. He was showing pitch darkness and it intrigued me. So instead of scrolling past like I intended, I stayed and tried to scrutinize the scene but to no help — it was all dark.

"Did you hear that?"

The vlogger's voice was suddenly clearer but his question threw me off. It was unnerving. There was an unfamiliar tremor in his voice that made me feel the same fear as him. The dark screen was suddenly not still and the silhouette of a door came into view.

"The sound came from right outside. Should I open the door to see?"

Of course he shouldn't. There could be found some ten thousand horror movies that would tell him that he should not. But he did anyway. There was no foreboding creek as the door opened, some fragments of street light in the distance that looked more ominous than reassuring. It was still silent, eerily like it was a warm summer evening in the countryside where people had nothing to worry about let alone flesh biting horrors.

"There is nothing here. To appreciate my bravery don't be shy in sending gifts and whatever your heart desires at–"

It was so quick I almost missed it and had I been successful at missing it, maybe my heart would be saved.

It wasn't a grand howl and attack. It was just a blink of darkness moving, covering the lights in the distance with the shadow and as the lights became visible again, it was obvious that something had moved. There was no foreshadowing, ominously sidelining; in a wink there was a rustle of clothes and the clang of the camera falling to the floor. It was pitch darkness but the vlogger had left no stone turned in choosing his recording mic.

As the mic stayed on around his mouth, the squelching of blood resonated loudly as the infected tore his neck probably, its heavy breathing and teeth biting into flesh with a small ripping sound like that of soft muslin. A second too late, the man started gurgling on his blood. He had no time to scream, no chance to run. The gushing of blood as the infected but around until it was done was so loud that I threw my phone away without a care in the world. Yet the only sound that reached me was the low, deep gurgle of blood and the throaty groan of the infected.

No amount of gory movies and books would have prepared me for that video and the silence that rang through the apartment after that prevailed for a very long time with the only noises being my gasps and puking. The clip went viral and everyone went crazy; traffic in the streets for miles as everyone tried to flee the city, flight tickets skyrocketed and the ruckus continued. I couldn't afford the tickets and I had nowhere else to go so I tried to order as much grocery as I could while trying to hold off the anxiety of living through yet another possible pandemic.

More clips started surfacing but I watched none of it, staying off the internet unless it was for work until finally hell couldn't be contained and the internet was shut down in the whole city. The government couldn't do shit for the virus yet so they ensured what they liked best – quiet. Work was close to impossible and salaries were further reduced regardless of the increasing bills.

In all the chaos of possibly a zombie apocalypse in construction and intense inflation, there was bound for things to go wrong — very, very wrong.

Ripping off the fabric of a shirt from the backpack, I tied it around the long scratch on my arm. Darkness blurred my vision every time I exhaled and every inhale burned my lungs. Looking around, I realised I had run into the woods, which explained the itchy scratches everywhere on my body. But there was nowhere else to go and if I navigated in the right direction, I would arrive at the isolated military camp, which was a hopeful ray of my survival.

It wasn't supposed to happen; I was supposed to move south to downtown, where there could be a shit ton of infected but more chances of communication too. But the streets looked awfully empty as I walked and sprinted carefully. There were occasional abandoned cars that looked good as new but I did not dare peek in. Last thing I would want was an investigation after all the ruckus clears off, that too for petty theft. The cramp in my stomach was occasionally wrenching my insides but the adrenaline kept me going.

Humans are cute. Hold their hand, caress their scars and give them a warm seat and they'll think they are home. The empty roads, the quiet and the chilly breeze that brushed through my sweaty, filthy skin felt like a cold shower after enduring a heatwave. I got too comfortable so it was only right that I would get plowed to the street.

It was all in a split second. One second I was running and the next a heavy weight crashed to my side, effectively pushing me to the ground and scraping my exposed skin against the rough asphalt. But before I could cry out or even look at the force, there was a putrid stench scorching my nostrils and a growl above me.

There was a squelch of flesh being torn apart and a scream escaped my parched throat, a hoarse but disturbingly loud sound. I felt like I was floating just like I always imagined death to be except something was wrong. There was no pain. I wasn't pathetically thrashing in sheer agony of having my flesh bitten off and the infected person above me was not moving.

Lightheaded, I finally looked, really looked. Blood never looked so relieving. The makeshift spear on my hand was protruding through the neck of the infected and cold blood dripped down the puncture wound. The infected person, what looked like a young man, had his eyes stuck on me but they were vacant of any semblance of life. They were bloodshot and pupils dilated, looking like they would pop out of their sockets any moment. His body weight was crushing me and I couldn't breathe with my already throbbing head.

Pushing off the body, I rolled away, breathing in the open air. But before a complete breath, my body instinctively flipped and with wretched gags that shook my whole body, I puked again. At this point I wasn't sure what I was throwing up, probably my dying organs. The putrid stench was stronger and my gags worsened.

In the midst of that, I heard it this time. Shuffling, wheezing and groaning, footsteps. How did I forget my own scream? How was I not expecting it? My throat hurt and so did my entire body. I wanted to scream and cry with helplessness. But I knew I needed to move. I needed to get the fuck back up.

Because I might not be the main character in the whole story, but I was the main character in mine.

That's how I ended up running in a random direction, then more random directions doing anything to escape the footsteps. Every time I saw the slightest of shifts in my periphery, I changed directions. My makeshift spear remained digging into an infected person's throat and taking out any other knife would take time. I wanted to ram my head into a tree trunk for leaving behind the spear but I had to run then.

At one point, the road was deserted. The woods ran through one side and empty fields through another. There was no house around and nothing objectively obstructive of view. So I stopped but adrenaline was heavy so I stumbled to the ground and rolled on my back. Breathing. Just breathing.

The sky was clear but dusk was approaching. I didn't even want to think what would happen after nightfall so I kept breathing like it was a task. It was so silent that my head got louder again. I was hyper aware of my being, from my aching legs to my throbbing head and sinking heart. I couldn't close my eyes. Every time I gave in to the darkness, I saw a pair of bloodshot protruding eyes first, then a sensation – a cold liquid dripping down my arm and then finally, a knife lodged into a man's throat and the handle of that knife was held by-

I opened my eyes with as much life I had in me to the bright sky, unnerving quiet and my own heavy breathing. There was a nagging thought in my head that I wanted to throttle and bury but it came up again and again. To evade it, I sat up.

I took out a knife from my backpack, knowing that it wouldn't be half as useful as my spear but it was something better than nothing. I held it firmly but did not stand up. I couldn't. My legs were weak and hurt like a bitch. I had always contemplated how quickly things could go wrong but my estimation wasn't even close to what it was happening in reality. I remember basking in the warmth of my airy apartment and listening to music, laughing with my friends on call about how I was finally on the same land as BTS. But then suddenly it was chaos and now I had blood on my hands, filthy but it wasn't my own.

There was a cackling, a giggle around me and goosebumps lined my skin. I looked around for a moment when a realization hit me. It hit me so hard that I began sprinting again. Running towards the woods aimlessly, I ignored the burning of my soles and the scratches of small thin branches tearing my skin. All the while I kept thinking back to that sound.

It was me. I was laughing. I couldn't suppress the thought anymore. I was going insane.

Aimlessly wandering through the woods, I finally tried to breathe a little better. Stumbling through the huge trees and trying my best to navigate towards the setting sun, where a military camp should stand tall, I tried to ignore the burning pain that was spreading through my whole body.

The forest wasn't too thick. One couldn't see the other side at one glance but it wasn't complete wilderness. There were some rare trees marked by the government and some sections were fenced with wires. But all the big trees and growing tangled bines yet not one fruit caught my eye. No matter how much the infected scared me and no matter how much my whole body throbbed with a dull ache constantly, I couldn't ignore my cramped stomach and my dry mouth. But I couldn't drop my gait, not before nightfall.

The setting sun was like a halo in the distance and staring at it, as I moved forward, I felt a serenity take over me. There was nothing that was as hopeful as that constant ball of brightness in the desolate quiet of the woods, in a city filled with sick people.

So lost in the blinding light of the sun, I couldn't control my feet as they stepped on a dry branch on the ground and a loud creak echoed through the forest. The echoing felt like nature was mocking me, really laughing at me, pointing and saying, 'look at her, what a dumb bitch.'

Looking around me, I tried to confirm that nothing was going to jump on me at the next second. At least my back wouldn't be to the wall if something did pop up. At most, it would delay my navigation — or that's what I tried to assure myself. I was doing a fine job at it too, taking slow steps further towards the direction of the setting sun until I noticed it.

At some distance, there was a man walking towards my direction. He wasn't stumbling and that gave me hope that it could be another survivor. It couldn't be me all alone. But I didn't want to call out loud and attract attention. So I leaned against a thick tree, away from his sight, just the sound of his footsteps nearing me. The footsteps were steady, not haphazard. They felt conscious and they were closer than ever before.

I held my breath as I heard the footsteps just on the other side of the tree. I could see his shoes standing still. Peeking out a little more, I caught sight of him, looking straight ahead. His side profile looked completely untouched and with his completely fine posture, I was sure by then that he was indeed uninfected. A strange ray of joy sparked through me. He looked very alert and upright, probably because of the sound I made.

So I finally decided to step out from behind the bark. A step and then another until I was beside him. But he still didn't notice me, so I tried to reach out a hand and tap his shoulder. My shaking hands reached out and it was almost at his shoulder blade when I heard his breathing. He was breathing heavily which wasn't abnormal but it was followed by a deep gurgling sound – a growl.

In a beat I was ducking behind the tree again, only in time to catch his head turn in my direction; a knife was sticking out of his other eye, the sight making bile rise to my throat again as a scream threatened to erupt but at the distance he was in, one wrong move and I wouldn't be able to scream ever again. His other eye looked around keenly, heavy breathing and that same eerie gurgling groan as if he was choking on his own blood.

A few moments passed like that with me holding my breath, as he stood motionless. But after what felt like an eternity, he began walking again. Steady footsteps moving past the tree had me finally exhaling. But I couldn't waste any more time, it was already darkening. I had to get somewhere at least.

I took off in a sprint, the desire to put a distance between the infected and myself overwhelming my senses. Ducking below branches and jumping over roots, I let the air rage war on my skin as the surroundings changed to a blur. Even in all that overwhelming stimulation, I could feel it before I saw it. There was someone sprinting behind me. It was not a human. It had a protruding knife from its eye.

I wanted to scream out loud or at least cry in despair. But in lieu of all the mockery I made of characters in dystopian fictions at their obnoxious and unrealistic behaviour, even my mind was working on autopilot and instead of screaming or crying, I pushed my legs to run faster, letting the subdued animalistic urge of survival take over my senses, until I could see nothing but the peeking glimpses of the road at the distance.

My feet met the asphalt again and I let myself blink, feeling the water dripping down my cheeks. I couldn't perceive anything other than my own shoes hitting the road, slowing down with each fall to a jog then a walk and then a standstill.

I looked around the deserted road, panting. My vision was even more blurry than before but I couldn't miss the sight of a military barricade in the distance. This was the path to the military camp, where there should be people that can help me. The sun had dropped below the horizon but the bright halo remained and that too was slowly dimming.

I couldn't brush off the fact that there were probably infected around so I took quick strides to the path opposite the military barricade. A big white arrow was drawn on the road and it made me increase my pace. Soon enough a building came in my sight but it was still far and no matter how much I sped up, it felt far like a mirage.

"Help!"

I stumbled to a stop. There was a looming fear that I was going insane but I was sure I heard someone scream for help. It was coming from the darkening forest. My heart thudded loudly in my chest as I stared at the darkness.

"Help me please!"

I heard it distinct this time and closer than before. There was indeed another person. But I couldn't forget the infected person I encountered before. With the loud shouting from this person asking for help, he would definitely be following the source too. There was a person asking for help and there was an infected person probably tailing the sound.

I've never counted myself as a great person and that wasn't due to humility. I was never a great person. I always prioritized myself first and when the situation had come to a literal man-eating-man situation, I saw nothing wrong in it.

So I sprinted towards the building, ignoring the calls for help, the sound ringing in my ears like a siren.

"Help!"

"Help, please, someone!"

"HELP!"

It wasn't a military camp. It didn't look like one at least. It was a huge building, fenced with a huge metal gate, but empty. Deserted. Not one person was around. But I didn't want to lose hope, they could have locked themselves in somewhere.

The gate was open thankfully, so I tried to push myself in through that but ended up opening it slightly wider than before albeit soundlessly. It was dark, the halo of the sun gone. The sky was just minutes away from darkening to a void.

With quiet footsteps I walked towards the only door in sight. It was huge but opened even with a gentle push, no creaking. The place was quiet. With the staircases and the multiple hallways, it looked like the barracks. But no lights were on and nothing was in sight. There was a chill running down my spine as I slowly stepped towards the first hallway to the left.

The long, narrow passage gave way to another big door. The door was closed but through the big glasses on the door, I could well see the inside. I could barely conceal my cry when I saw numerous infected people stumbling around in what looked like the cafeteria. There was food spilled on the ground and they all looked like chefs but a few were wearing military boots too.

My last hope drowned. I could only visualise letting an infected person tear into me. The pain would be immense but it won't last too long. Muffled sobs uncontrollably poured out of me as I stared at the people inside walking around like monsters of the night, waiting for one little sound, then they would tear them down to dust.

I was subconsciously staring at the young soldier who had a huge chunk of his forearm missing. He was young, might have even enlisted recently. His buzz cut looked newly shaped. It made my heart lurch in agony. I couldn't falter the ringing of my ears, the only sound enthralling my eardrums was the cry for help that I ignored. When I closed my eyes to blink I saw a man with a knife sticking out of his throat, a knife that I stabbed him with. It was so terrifying that I wanted to never close my eyes again.

The young soldier's eyes met mine all of a sudden and I took a step back. His eyes remained on mine when I moved further and further back until I began sprinting in the opposite direction. The adrenaline got the best of me and forsaking the sense of directions, I ran up the staircase. The sound of my shoes hitting the floor hurt my own ears. I had no idea where I was running to but I couldn't stop.

Not until I was suddenly pulled back inside a room and thrown against the wall with a heavy body up against me and a hand on my mouth interrupting the scream that I was about to let out. It was dark but I could make out a tall silhouette gently closing the door with one hand while still holding me against the wall.

Tears flowed out my eyes as I heard a familiar groaning right outside the door. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed myself to the wall as if it would just suck me in and free me from the wall but the stranger looked unshaken, his hand remained firm on my mouth and eyes on the door. A moment or two passed like that with me holding my breath and a loud drumming of heartbeat in my ears before abnormal footsteps slowly moved past the door and somewhere further down the hall.

The stranger still showed no intent of moving and there were hundreds of thoughts running through me but I let him wait for another minute or so before he moved and let me collapse to the floor like a heap of messy laundry. I couldn't control my trembling body, letting everything over the past weeks finally take their toll on me. I couldn't even look up and catch the stranger step back until he was on the opposite wall where he slid down to the floor too.

"Are you hurt somewhere?"

There was a gentle familiarity in his voice that made my stomach clench uncomfortably. I had no idea how much time had passed since I stopped crying.

"Just some scratches."

He suddenly looked alert and stood up. It took me a few seconds to comprehend his reaction so I was quick to clear the misunderstanding, "Not by the infected people. Just tree branches. I ran through the woods."

There was a sigh heard in the room and I watched his silhouette move to the small window with the blinds down. His shoulders were broad and his physique looked intimidating from my position on the ground but it strangely did not throw me off. There was something about him that felt unnaturally familiar. I didn't know how.

He parted the blinds and let more light flood in before turning to face me. I blinked at him for a moment, my head couldn't process what was going on. The familiar kind eyes, the high nose bridge and the pouty lips were all features of one person I recognised like the back of my hand; someone I had spent years fangirling over. I couldn't mistake that countenance, never. But the only sigh of misery that left me was the consequences I was seeing him in.

I wasn't ready to meet Kim Seokjin in the middle of an apocalypse.

There was utter silence in the room, only our breathing and probably my drumming heart. He had returned to his seat at the opposite wall while I remained fixated to my side. I had so many questions, so many things to say but moving my lips felt like a task. I had nothing on me that would get me going now that the adrenaline had run out. So we remained in an exhausting silence.

"Is the road clear?" he whispered.

"Barely. The woods are not clear so I doubt the road will stay safe too long."

He didn't reply and I couldn't resist the urge so I asked him, "How are you here?"

"I was supposed to be discharged the next day when all this happened. I was in my room packing up when I heard some commotion downstairs."

I didn't need to know what commotions nor did he feel it to be said. Silence prevailed when I couldn't come up with a reply but there was something shifting in me. I was breathing a little easier.

"I'm not going to be here anymore though."

I watched him stand up and move to the bed in the corner and there was a slightly coarse sound of a wrapper being torn, of a small protein bar when it was brought before my eyes. I looked up at Jin who held the bar in front of me, another small water bottle with some water in it.

I was confused. Why was he showing it to me? Was he giving it to me? He couldn't be that stupid. Who would share food and water in this scarcity? I kept staring at the protein bar letting my mouth water and my stomach groan loudly. But I didn't take it from his hand.

It must have been frustrating for him because he suddenly dropped to the floor right in front of me and shoved the bar in my hand and placed the water bottle before me. When my limp hand finally fisted around the bar, he brought my hand to my mouth and shoved it in.

I could have cried as the taste of the melting bar sent a few shudders to my body and I was gobbling it up in less than a few seconds.

"I'm sorry I'm usually more gentle. But I can't be patient right now."

Mouth full with the last bite of the bar, I reached for the water bottle watching him with keen eyes as he continued, "I can only give you this much. I'll leave tomorrow."

The water flowing down my burning throat sent another round of shudders down my body and my eyes closed in bliss. I saved a few sips for later and let the embarrassing sound of my stomach groaning be heard before I processed his words.

"To where? It's hell out there."

"My brothers. They are in the main camp."

I didn't agree with him wholeheartedly but I understood him. The moment my brain registered that it was Kim Seokjin, my mind went to the other six members. The exhaustion had gotten overwhelming and the thought had left me. Hearing it from him was a different feeling. He was the eldest, his sense of responsibility had to be peaking.

I had no idea when I fell asleep but when I woke up it was day again. Lights poured in through the windows with the blinds pushed up. A rustle of fabric made me jump up to a stand still when I remembered I wasn't alone.

Jin was walking around the room, randomly checking drawers and tables. I felt my thoughts to be more organised than last night so I could finally process a lot of things; first being the fact that I wasn't dead or infected yet and I somehow met Kim Seokjin and the second, he is ethereal.

He looked like an angel with the sun beaming on his face, as he looked out. What were the odds of me ending up with him of all people? But before I could further contemplate the odds, he turned to me with a small grimace for a smile but I swooned nonetheless.

"Slept well? You should keep your guards up now. I'll get going."

It all came back to me in an instant. He did talk about leaving to look for the other members and I didn't remember what I replied back.

"Have you been outside? It's hell."

"I know, you've told me before."

"How do you plan to make it there?"

He looked at me with his backpack in hand, "I'm not sure. I don't have much with me, just some scraps for snacks and a bottle of water or two."

I couldn't help the quake of my body when I recalled the infected people I had encountered on my way. At least I had a knife, it looked like he was charging in without anything.

I noticed my own backpack lying abandoned so I picked it up and took out one of the knives from in there.

"There you go," I held it out to him as he continued staring with an unreadable expression, "you will need some kind of protection. I suppose you happen to not have a gun, right?"

He stared at the knife for a moment and I was about to take it back, afraid of his widening eyes but instead he suddenly spoke up, "Guns! There are guns here somewhere-"

"In this room?"

"No, maybe in the gym."

I had no idea what to do with this piece of information so I waited for his mind to continue turning the gears.

"I'm going to try and look for one before I leave."

He didn't wait for any affirmation from my side, immediately moving towards the door when an uncomfortable feeling began sinking in my stomach. He was really leaving like that. Hand on the doorknob, he was about to pull it open when I was pulling his arm back.

Wide eyed he stared as if I had grown two heads, "what are you doing?"

"I'll go with you."

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deedala · 5 months

Text

🌿w e e k l y 🍄 t a g 🕯️ w e d n e s d a y🌙

thanks @darlingian for writing this week!! and thanks for tagging me @creepkinginc @energievie @metalheadmickey 💖💖💖

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?: oh hey yeah i am going to have to also say Bob Belcher. He is dad goals.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?: im sorry i have a whole entire me and 2 kids to take care of i dont want anything else lmao

what is your Chinese takeout order?: veggie fried rice and veggie egg rolls!

what's your favourite emoji?: omg i dunno uhmmmm 💖 is probably up there!!

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?: okay i am a legendary plant killer but i would LOVE to be able to just hang in a greenhouse. thats my vibe. i just cannot be responsible for those plants ok

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?: david the gnome!

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?: for a really long time my tumblr was just my silly little artworks, from like 2011 to late 2014. in 2015 it became more of my dragon age artwork and fandom blog. and then a few years ago i just started reblogging whatever the fuck i wanted. and well now its a whole mess huh. my beloved trash pile.

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?: cottage core and dark academia

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?: Thedas hoo boy

what is your favourite piece of art?: hmmm birth of venus by william-adolphe bouguereau

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?: aluminum cup with a straw style, its blue and green and has a leaves design on it

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? uuhhh...i dont know if i have a quiet fav?

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?: lately its been an addidas black drawstring bag. i just dug through it and found absolutely nothing un-normal haha?? i guess the most uncommon thing in there might be the epi-pens??

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?: what kind of choice is this?? im going to go ahead and be a cheater and say i BFF ship mickey with debbie

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?: ack...again i dunno?? i just like all the basic things and i dont know enough about the other stuff? maybe i need to try more things that i think sound unfun lol

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?: lmao hes so inexplicably swole, yes absolutely

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?: i want debbie to have that, she deserves it.

Okay here's some nuggets who i think might want to play!! @michellemisfit @too-schoolforcool @mickeysgaymom @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @callivich @juliakayyy @mmmichyyy @jrooc @sam-loves-seb @crossmydna @suzy-queued @tanktopgallavich @lingy910y @transmickey @rereadanon @palepinkgoat @sickness-health-all-that-shit @suchagallabitch @thepupperino @sleepyfacetoughguy @tsuga-of-mars and also you person not tagged you can lie and say i tagged you as always i will corroborate~

#weekly tag wednesday #tag game

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Thumper

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Sweet Af

Concept Pet Names

I hummed my little tune as I sat on the small round beige leather ottoman atop of the black and white patterned rug. My bare feet tucked up under myself to protect them from the cold concrete floor of the basement I called my home. My little grey dresses around me snugly with my black cardigan over me to keep out the chill buttoned up tightly across my chest. My hair sat perfectly fresh from its rollers and the half a bottle of hairspray that coated my curls. I had folded my ironing board on its lowest setting so it was at the perfect height for me sitting on the ottoman, the small basket of laundry to my left side and the table to my right. I picked up one of Benny's textured green button-downs fresh from the dryer and left it to cool I laid it out on my board doing the back first as it's the most amount of fabric spritzing it with my iron first to dampen the fabric before running my little iron over it removing every crease and crinkle, I did the back, sleeves, collar, and noticed he was missing a button again so I sighed folding it up and setting it on my pile to repair once I was done ironing.

"I don't know what you do Benjamin I really don't" I pouted as I moved on to one of his smaller cotton t-shirts

"Hum?" He asks, having not been paying the slightest bit of attention. Sat up the dining table or well the chess table as I fail to recall the last time we ate dinner on it. Chess board before him, notes perfectly parallel to his board pen atop the pad. His clock somewhere I didn't know his small coffee cup in hand having himself a sip of the coffee that was now likely cold as I made it for him an hour ago. He too had moved his bare feet away from the cold concrete floor, his jeans hugging him close his belt and knife somewhere else likely wrapped around our bedpost, his grey slightly silver striped button down around him the few higher buttons undone two because he wanted them to be and one of them because it has actually come off. He wouldn't let me fix it. His hair was loose and messy from his shower this morning it is now mostly dry in that fresh fluffy state.

"I don't know how you do it. You get thought buttons almost once a month" I complained as I worked

"Am I?"

"Yes," I laughed "what on earth are you doing? Ripping your shirts off?"

"Well if the damage is from ripping my shirts off I'm not completely to blame" he smirked leaning his elbow on the table, his hand on his chin. I gave him a glare and he only smirked back "am I my little flittermouse?"

"But mostly you"

"I don't deny it's mostly ripping and throwing my shirts around but I want you to admit you are also at fault"

"Why? What purpose would that solve?" I asked folding his shirt

"A boast to my ego" he shrugs

"You get quiet enough of those benny," I said grabbing the next shirt

"Umm yes I do" he winked

"I'm holding an iron and your favourite shirt. You wanna try this?" I warn

"Fine. Grumpy like flittermouse today" he says proceeding with his chess

"Why did I buy you that dictionary?" I rolled my eyes as I ironed

"You wanted me to expand my vocabulary"

"Yes to stop you using the word good in every sentence"

"And I leant lots of fun words. Especially once that reminds me of my darling little y/n"

"But flittermouse?"

"It suits you" he shrugs

"Ohhh, go play chess benny"

"I will" he smiled, continuing with his game so I continued on with my ironing until he spoke up again "y/n?"

"Yes?" I asked folding his jeans

"You're my little flittermouse"

"I know” I rolled my eyes

"But what am I?"

"Your benny." I answered "or Benjamin when I want to bug you or let you know you're in trouble"

"Really? I'm just benny? You don't think or refer to me as anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Like… do you ever sit and think, 'i hope my sweet honeybun is okay so far away' or that stupid little sugarplum I love so much' or 'your darling'? Perhaps"

"I refer to you as benny."

"You don't have a fun pet name for me?"

"My idiot?"

"Ohh. I kinda hope you called me something cute too"

"Did you want me to?"

"....maybe" he answered sheepishly

"Well, I have a few ideas" I smiled as I finished my ironing and put down my board so I hopped to the sofa and opened my arms, he needed no further instruction as he quickly scampered from his chair to the sofa nuzzling his head into my chest for a cuddle nuzzling his cold nose into my cardigan wrapping his arms around me as of I was a floating device and he was lost at sea in the freezing cold.

"Ummmm" he sighed happily

"Happy boy?"

"Ummm humm" he mumbled against me

"You wanna hear my ideas?"

"I would like to yes"

"Well I often call you my idiot"

"I'm well aware"

"Sometimes I call you my little snuggle bug"

"Awww you do?" He asks slightly picking his head up

"I do. Sometimes when you’re away for days I lay in bed thinking I hope my snuggle bug is nice and warm"

"Awww but why snuggle bug?'

".... Do I need to explain?' I asked looking at his current state

"Fair enough. I just like to snuggle"

"I know you do. It's sweet. My sweet benny likes to snuggle" I smiled

"Any other ones you use for me?"

"Well, I sometimes call you…"

"Ummm?"

"Thumper"

"Thu- Thumper!" He complained sitting up more so he could see my face "thumper! Why do you call me thumper!'

"You remind me of him"

"Remind you- in what way do I remind you of the rabbit from Bambi?"

"... I can't really explain it benny"

"Tell me"

"Fine" I giggled sitting comfortably and opening my arms "Come on"

he smiled and came for a cuddle I made sure he laid on his back so his head was in my lap looking up at me "Hi"

"Hi" I smiled humming my sweet little tune as I softly pet his hair he smiled nuzzling close and comfy with me every so often I'd find a little spot on his head that made his leg move a little I continued every so often intentionally making him do it and singing the little song "la..la...la lalaallaa" I sang making his leg bounce uncontrollably and he suddenly realized

"..... fair enough" He sighed realizing the situation he was in

"My little thumper" I giggled petting his hair

"I am not happy with this" he pouts

"Benjamin" I giggled playing with his hair

"Ummmmmmmmmmmm fine" he smiled nuzzling close

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lfcthelovesofmylife · 2 years

Text

what i think of some of the liverpool squad

Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain -

Extremely underrated. Hasn’t been the same since his injury. He seems to be plagued with injuries. Wouldn’t be surprised if he left at the end of this season, feel very bad for him sitting on the bench all the time. At this point I’ve been thinking he’s done something to make Kloppo absolutely hate him because he never plays. Would also just like to thank him for making Perrie Edwards a MILF and a Liverpool fan x

Joe Gomez-

Funny guy, wish he played more often but unfortunately he is simply not up to the standard at this current time. Was absolutely devastated that he came off injured against Southampton, he’s always been so unlucky with injuries. I’d give him my knee but that would probably be worse for him. I think I have joint issues. Love him in the media day videos. Solid dude.

Virgil Van Dijk -

What a beast. Absolutely love the guy. Don’t understand how you couldn’t like him. Arguably one of the best defenders in the world. I admire his love for Joel - that’s what you call commitment. Also a really funny guy in the media day videos.

Kostas Tsimikas -

Kostas. Where do I start? I could write a whole letter for him. I have never loved a player in the way I love him. The way he's so dedicated to the team makes me so emotional sometimes. I would want nothing more than to give him a hug. he deserve the world and more. So underappreciated yet so bloody good. he's our Greek Scouser.. Sorry I mean Scouser Greek. I never want him to leave. Ever.

Ibrahima Konate -

I don’t know all that much about him, but I do know he’s incredible. I would be terrified if I had to come up against him on the pitch. I think I’d surrender then and there. He seems like a really nice guy and I’d love to be mates with him but I’m scared I’d annoy him too much.

Naby Keita -

I can’t lie, I actually stress way too much when he plays. I don’t know why, he’s a good player. Seems like a really sweet guy. I can tell his smile really brightens up the room. Seems like a ray of sunshine. What a guy.

Caoimhin Kelleher -

Literally my favourite number 2 goalkeeper in the business. That pen against Chelsea in the Carabao Cup final? Beautiful if you ask me. Seems like a really chilled, quiet guy. I can already tell I’d wind him up if I spent too long with him but he’d never outright tell me to go away.

Thiago Alcantara -

Absolute midfield maestro. Incredible at what he does. Living legend. His friendship with Kostas is something I would only ever be able to dream about having with someone. Love the guy. One of our best signings if you ask me. He’s absolutely transformed the midfield and I wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

Luis Diaz -

Again, what a player. Something about our recent signings honestly. I don’t know what else I can say except that he’s absolutely incredible. The footwork. The pace. The skill. Never leave us. I love you my guy.

Andy Robertson -

What a little shitstirrer. Absolutely loved by the Liverpool fans, hated by everyone else. But you know it wouldn’t work any other way. My favourite scotsman. To this day I’m still kept up in the middle of the night wondering if pigeons have thoughts. I would no doubt be best friends with him. I wonder if he likes haggis.

Takumi Minamino -

Played less games than Jack Grealish has at City yet still has more goals than him. Our best finisher and our saviour on more than one occasion. Seems like the most humble guy and I really hope he doesn’t leave us anytime soon. I want to give him a box of chocolates and thank him for the service he’s done for our club.

Joel Matip -

His giraffe runs are nothing short of iconic. The way that he so gracefully floats down the pitch with the ball is incredible. He is the moment. I understand why Virgil is infatuated with him. How can you not? Absolutely mesmerising.

Diogo Jota -

Literally just nominate him for the Ballon D’or. The goals he scores are incredible. Also an absolute warrior at FIFA. I’d ask to play against him and the score would be 52-1 to him (the 1 goal he’d let me score out of pity) I’d leave the room crying. Hendo would ban us from playing FIFA against each other for the rest of eternity.

Sadio Mane -

Sadio Mane. The best football player in the world. The guy is a superhero. What a season he’s had. So proud. If he goes to Bayern I’ll delete football. The game is nothing without him. We need him. He’s wonderful.

Alisson Becker -

The best goalkeeper in the world. I don’t know how you can tell me Ederson is better. Alisson is the reason we are where we are. His iconic, once-in-a-lifetime header against West Brom was the pebble in the pond. It’s the reason we are the team we are. There will be statues built for him, murals painted, and sections in museums dedicated to him and I will be the first one there for it all. He also looks like he could be Chris Hemsworth’s brother.

Roberto Firmino -

I sing his song while I go about my daily life. He is captivating. His teeth scare me a bit but his football skills are amazing. People will talk about him for generations. He is ingrained in history.

Divock Origi -

Football without Origi really is nothing. Life is meaningless without him at Liverpool. I will take it upon myself to build a statue of him outside Anfield. He is nothing short of a legend. I already miss him. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself next season. There is going to be a void in my life. A hole in my heart. I prayed this day would never come. I don’t want to say goodbye to our Divock.

Harvey Elliott -

Little bit of a prick I can’t lie, but he’s a great football player. Watching the replay of his injury traumatised me. I don’t know how he didn’t just die then and there. He’s really short as well. I can’t get over how he thought he was doing something when he tried to push Kai Havertz in the Carabao Cup final. Was hoping for a part two of that in the FA cup final but neither of them played. Disappointing to say the least. But yeah he’s decent.

Mo Salah -

Literally just give him the Ballon D’or. The best player in the world. Was robbed of PL player of the season. Will not go into that because I’ll get too angry. Really hope he doesn’t leave. Won’t be able to deal with that. Might have to end it all.

James Milner -

Brexit football at its finest. He looks a bit scary sometimes but I can’t be mean to him because we have to respect our elders. The veteran on the pitch. I’m fairly certain he’ll be playing football until he’s one foot in the grave. James Milner will never retire.

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 1 year

Note

Hello! It's Winter! Happy Sunday!!! This is based on the "rumours" that Emmanuel penned an erotic novel lol . Is that even true? LOL

THE NOVEL

There was always something.

Some days he deeply regretted winning the presidency. He had no idea that so much dirt from his past would resurface. Luckily, he had a relatively clean history. But this new revelation was something he never thought would be discovered.

“When my wife gets back, tell her I need to see her right away,” Emmanuel advised a member of his trusted staff.

“Sure thing, Sir.” The advisor nodded before leaving the office of the President.

Half an hour later, there was a light knock on his door followed by a cheerful voice. “It’s me”

Emmanuel smiled upon hearing that sweet sound from his favourite person. “Come in!” He yelled loud enough so she could hear him through the wall.

Immediately sensing the distress on his face, rather than taking a seat, Brigitte approached him. Resting her hand on his back, she asked him what was wrong.

Decades earlier, she had been made aware that her husband penned an erotic story about the early years of their relationship. Now, the news of this story was being leaked to the media - all thanks to a book.

“She doesn’t have a copy, right?” Brigitte asked.

“No! Thankfully the woman - my neighbour - who typed it up for me never kept a copy for herself,” Emmanuel let out a sigh of relief. “But somehow the word is out that I wrote one!”

Brigitte, never having read the story herself, asked her husband how graphic and descriptive it was.

He nervously played with his wedding band. “Some chapters were a bit racy. I was a sexually frustrated young man who couldn’t be with the woman he loved. Writing was my only outlet! I didn’t use our real names, if that helps”

She chuckled. “Well, that’s good at least”

“I’m sorry this is coming out now,” Emmanuel apologized.

Brigitte kissed the top of his head. “It’s fine. We can get through anything. I’m actually flattered you wrote about me.”

He sat quietly, staring at his wife until he made another confession, “I wrote a lot about my sexual fantasies. Everything I wanted to do to you and with you.”

She blushed just thinking about the content. Playing with the top button on her blouse, she asked him, “is there a fantasy you want to try? I trust you completely.”

Emmanuel laughed, “baby, we’ve done everything and more. And it’s been even better than what my teenage brain could ever have imagined.”

Hellooo Winter! ❤️

Hahaha Brigitte almost innocently asking if there was any fantasy he wanted to try and Emmanuel saying that they’ve done everything and more oh la la 🤭🔥😂 I’m sure one can always find new fantasies, Emmanuel 😏

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #winter

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rhiannawoodart · 13 days

Text

FMP Refinement

Coming into the final month of FMP, I needed to ultimately decide the direction my final piece was going to take.

In previous projects even though I have had a rough idea of what I have wanted to create I always benefit from thinking of 12 possible FMP ideas so I can really compare what I think is best for my project. I think off final pieces made from all kinds of media and methods of art in general. It is a comparison activity I like to undergo for the strongest work in the end result. When I had come up with 12 ideas I looked at all my previous work and decided the best idea for my works was creating 3 large scale paintings on wooden boards.

I feel creating just one image will not be a clear enough message that my man has helped me with my body confidence. A 3 image composition I can reference images from real life experiences of my relationship and I can also include an image where I felt beautiful in the time being with Oli. This then tells a story of how I am in the mindset I am in now.

I knew after doing numerous practises with acrylic paint I wanted to use this media for this potential final work, due to the pigmentation of the media. I like how strong a message a colour can bring and the range of colours I can create from a small amount of pure hue.

To select 3 images I wanted reference for the 3 painting FMP i looked at my primary photos blog and selected my favourite 3 where I felt something looking at the imagery.

This was my decided composition for the paintings. I have used ballpoint pen on the middle image of a nude image of myself so it wouldn't be deemed explicit for viewers looking at this blog.

All these images I found were perfect for the message and my theme I wanted to communicate. I have an image of Oli doing what he loves which is music. I remember the way I feel when he plays to me and it makes me ambitious to get to the goal I want in my life, the second image is a nude image I took of myself where I felt beautiful and appreciated. This image represents the confidence I have grown from being in this relationship. And the final image, is me and Oli showing an intimate kiss, this represents love and the beauty in finding the right person.

I obviously wanted to create paintings out of all these images however I knew planning and really going into depth of each picture was best rather than jumping straight into creating a final piece.

I created 3 sketches of each image, one rough sketch, one more detailed image and then an image showing the basic shapes in the composition of the primary image.

I used a ballpoint pen for all my drawing and sketches as I feel this is more pigmented and I can see my line work and the shapes I create much better than if I created the drawings with a pencil.

Doing 3 sketches of each image allowed me to really get to know the lines of each image. The first image is the hardest to create just due to the fact there are more shapes to consider.

I actually really liked my images where I showed the basic shapes of each image, which was a surprise to me. I like the abstraction and the unusual way it looks as a whole, I feel like as a painting it could be really interpretational and beautiful to look at. Going forward this is definitely a route I want to go down further so I will expand on that going further.

I also want to go large scale coming towards my FMP I feel like this would dramatise my journey which is exactly i want. I also want to include a link in each painting so it is known that these paintings are in the same story. I feel like I could do this with potentially including primary colours for each of the back grounds.

0 notes

frostironfudge · 2 years

Text

Sparkle - Bucky Barnes (one shot)

Summary: this is my entry for @pellucid-constellations 's #loveletterswritingchallenge i sincerely enjoyed writing this, it was so much of fun to come up with a story that left me all fuzzy and happy.

Pairing: bestfriend!bucky x plus size female!reader (set in an AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanoff, Winnie Barnes, Rebecca Barnes

Warnings: fluff, angst, recount of bullying comments experienced by the reader, mentions of fatphobic comments, fluff, mentions of anxiety attacks, swearing, mutual pining, no smut, sam and natasha have the braincell in the two friendships. please note if any of this triggers you please do not read. you are responsible for the media you consume.

A.N: this is my first time writing a plus sized reader, being plus sized i've always wanted to explore writing for a reader who looks like me, i hope i've done well, if not i will strive to improve my writing so please be kind, thank you. that being said, i am immensely proud of what i have written.

Word Count: 8432

dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics

masterlist // Ao3

seven.

‘dear y/n,

your sparkle pens are really pretty

i will share my new crayons if you share your sparkle pens.

-bucky’

‘dear bucky,

i want the blue crayon, you pick a sparkle colour, i will share it with you

-y/n’

‘dear sparkle,

i want the purple sparkle, because its your favourite, i wanna be your favourite too.

-bucky’

‘dear bucky,

you are my favourite.

and you can have the purple sparkle.

-sparkle’

‘dear sparkle,

i think we are going to be best friends.

-bucky’

‘dear bucky,

i think so too.

-sparkle’

Fifteen.

“what do you mean you are moving away?” You ask, confusion laces through your features.

“It means I have to go to a new city, my dad got a new job, they gave him a fancy house. Sparkle I don’t want to move.” Bucky is looking sullen, his blue eyes hold a sadness that is slowly seeping into his heart with every minute that passes.

It is slowly sinking in what is going to happen, he has go leave everything here, his childhood home, the mini play house at the backyard, this swing set you both have been sitting on since time began, and you.

“Will you come back, Bucky?” You wonder, not being able to fathom or imagine not having Bucky next to you, everything you both did you did together.

From filling the backpack of Brock Rumlow with whipped cream because he was bullying the younger kids on the block to stealing freshly baked cookies from the counter and confusing your mother on her number of cookies count.

Hiding in the small room you both discovered behind his wardrobe, eating snacks and possibly talking to a ghost lurking in the shadows.

Bucky and you were both skeptical about the ghost, so what if the chocolate was moved right when you said the ghost should move it?

Bucky’s eyes refocus onto your hunched over form, as you wrote something on a piece of paper. He’d miss this exchanging of notes between the two of you.

Folding the paper you hand it over, heart cracking as realisation dawns upon you when you watch Winnie Barnes and your mother put the last of the kitchen appliances into their boxes.

Winnie gestures for Bucky to come back inside. Bucky’s fingers tighten around your little note.

He takes one glance at you, trying to remember you so he doesn’t forget he’s so scared to forget.

He won’t but it scares him, so much.

You watch as he returns back inside, leaving you on the swing set. You look down at the indented grass.

Would the earth ever cover up the memories that your tiny pairs of feet created upon her?

Or would these indents serve as your only reminder?

Later that night when everyone else is asleep in the half empty home.

Bucky pulls out the note from his pocket, smoothening the paper against his duvet the white paper glows yellow in the lamp light.

‘dear bucky,

please don’t forget about me,

you’re going to make new friends, you’re going to have an amazing time there, you will have fun and the house will be nice, i could come visit maybe, or you could, we can write letters?

you’re my best friend, i love you.

i miss you already.

-sparkle’

His bright blue eyes settle on the small picture frame on his bedside that houses his favourite picture of the two of you, simultaneously having broken the same tooth and holding up the evidence with gleeful toothless smiles in anticipation for the tooth fairy.

Bucky wiped his cheek when he felt something warm, the salty tears finding him, why does that stupid fancy house have to be far away from all that he wants?

<><><><><>

“Why does he have to go mum? Bucky can stay with us, he can take my room!” You offer for the umpteenth time since your return.

“Baby, we spoke about this, his dad has a job offer and it will be good for them, Bucky will be happy and—,”

“NO! He isn’t happy none of you want to listen.” You scream at her.

Your mom’s gaze softens, she sits down on the couch, tucking your hair back,

“Are you sad that James has to leave?” She wonders, you nod, lip wobbling.

“I know it can be a lot to handle right now, you and James are both very brave and such good kids that you are listening to us, but baby this is something that will help their family. Do you understand? It will be good for them. It will be a lot to go through, but sweetheart they need this change.” You mom holds both your hands between her palms.

“But he will forget me, I, Mum he’s my best friend, my only friend.” You can’t stop the tears now, the fear of losing Bucky and him possibly forgetting who you are coursing rampant through you.

“Oh sweetheart, best-friends never forget each other, no matter the distance no matter if they speak regularly or not.” She gently wipes your tears away, kissing your cheek.

You retreat to your room, laying head down on the bed and letting more tears pour out.

Nineteen.

You stare at the calendar, hanging by your desk, if you could you would burn a hole through today’s date.

Barnes’ moving in day.

Those four words stare at you, mockingly. Four and a half years ago he moved away, ripping your duo apart.

Countless letters, left without reply, not a reply even to the funny birthday card you sent, so you stopped writing after nine months of radio silence.

Maybe he did forget you.

<><><><><><>

Month 1

‘Dear Bucky,

I hope you’ve moved in fully now, i miss you. Watching pixar movies without you does not feel right.

How is the weather there? Mom told me it is much more warmer and does not rain as often.

Have you gone to school yet? I hope you have fun there, write back soon.

-Sparkle.’

Month 4

‘Dear Bucky,

happy sixteenth birthday!

i know we had planned those star shaped candles like that one movie so i found them! I’ll ask mum to tell your mum to take a picture, i found two sets of candles so i’m keeping one for myself and i exchanged the blue and purple.

i miss you.

i hope school is easier, still sucks here, remember i told you Rumlow tried to steal lunch money last month? He tried it again, i threw my chocolate milk on his head.

You would have laughed so much.

Though I regret it because I didn’t have an extra chocolate milk. You would have kept an extra one for me. I miss laughing with you.

i love you bucky.

Hope you write back soon.

-sparkle.’

Month 5

‘Dear Bucky,

I sent in that story I wrote! I’ll tell you if I won or not, Rumlow is being a dickhead. Don’t tell Winnie I taught you the word dickhead or I’ll tell her the f word is what you taught me.

-Sparkle’

‘Dear Bucky,

I won second place!, I’m sending a snippet from the paper! Do you remember? This is about the chocolate moving ghost in your room.

Are there any ghosts in your new room?

Write soon, I miss you and your handwriting.

-Sparkle.’

<><><><><>

Winnie and your mom spoke every two weeks on the phone, you would catch tail ends of the conversations.

As did Bucky, he would stand behind the kitchen entryway, to eavesdrop;

“I know, I’ve tried talking to him about it, I know Y/N’s upset, I’m so sorry. I’ll try speaking to him again. Oh, I won’t. I’ll see if he will, oh and yes did you catch the episode,”

Bucky tuned out his mother’s words retreating to his room he had gone out to grab the mail, little did he know he was holding your last letter from the mailbox.

He sighed as his fingers traced over the envelope, the paper too familiar under his fingertips.

He glanced at the purple candle in his pen holder cup.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so, he met people at his school. Friends now who were in a similar situation as him.

They all said friends forget or they don’t write back, its easier rather than being hurt over losing a friend. A best friend.

Bucky looked at the stack of letters he attempted to write back to you.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I don’t like it here, they closest theatre is an hour away and Pixar without you just sucks.

It has been a week, i got your letter, people at school say long distance friendships don’t last and people forget each other.

We aren’t like that. We are best friends, we won’t forget each other. I am scared that it might happen, but it won’t right?

- Bucky’

Bucky sighs, turning the letter around in his hands, as his gaze falls onto the birthday envelope he made for you.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I’m sending a blue candle, you won’t believe it they just had one purple and blue candle remaining! You know just like the movie? when you make a wish can you wish for me to come back?

i’m going to ask if i can visit.

i miss you so much, sparkle.

-Bucky’

Bucky puts on a brave face, your letter feeling heavy in his hands, he opens the envelope and unfolds your twelfth letter to him, it has been nine months, he hasn’t sent out the letters nor did he come on the phone when his mom would urge him.

Month 9

‘Dear Bucky, Barnes,’

Bucky’s stomach took a tumble, you only called him Barnes when you were mad at him.

‘It has been hard, I don’t know how much mum told your mum. Dad well, just things fuck.

Things haven’t been that great since you left, mum says that things have gotten better for your family, i’m glad to hear that but i still miss you, you haven’t returned any of my letters and it probably is annoying you or maybe you forgot about me, i hope your new friends are great and school goes well for you. I’m not trying to imply that you should feel bad or guilty or that you should feel guilty, its just, it was nice to have a friend? Now I don’t.

It has gotten hard here for several reasons, i don’t want to bore you, if you are even reading the letters.

on my birthday i used the blue candle on a cupcake, i wished you would come back. I don’t think that will come true. Remember the cupcakes we baked with your mum? I used that recipe.

I don’t think I will be writing anymore, I don’t want to bother you or remind you of things that you may have forgotten. or wanted to forget.

still love you bucky, you’re my best friend.

- Sparkle Y/N.’

Bucky couldn’t read the paper anymore, the colours blended together before he blinked his tears away. Your handwriting just a muddled blur of ink. You’re saying goodbye to him, you’re hurting and he just added to it.

“Bucky?” Winnie Barnes enters her child’s room, brows furrowed in worry as his shoulders shake.

“She won’t write anymore.” Is all he says, turning around to hug his mother.

“Oh sweetheart, she is hurt, you haven’t written back, I know you have unsent letters,” She pulls away from him, running a hand through his hair and wiping his tears.

“Why don’t you send one? She is having a hard time at home. It will cheer her up.” Winnie offers, Bucky shakes his head.

“James…”

“Mum they don’t last these friendships all my friends here are just,” Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh.

“James Barnes.” His mom uses her warning tone.

“Y/N has been your best friend since you both were in diapers. You write her a letter and send it over, I know it is hard, I know it hurts you too, but I can’t watch you let this friendship fade away. Understood? It will be her choice if she wants to write back and you have to respect that.”

Bucky nods going to his desk and bringing out a pen and paper. Winnie pats his head, smiling at him as he begins writing what he wants to say to you.

Nineteen.

Bucky looks sullen, they’re moving back, couldn’t get the old house house three down from yours but they got the one right next to your home.

He wanted to be mad at you for not responding to his letter but he never held it against you, maybe he was too late.

“Bucky?” Winnie looks at him through the rearview mirror, she had taken over driving the remaining leg of the journey. They were going to stay at your house and that had him on edge.

“Yeah Ma?” He meets her gaze, knowing she probably caught onto his nerves. He had taken the semester off from university his dad’s untimely demise had left an aching hole between his family. They were healing but Bucky felt lost.

“It will be okay, between you both.” She assures him, then gazes at Rebecca who is fast asleep in the passenger seat.

“I hope so.” He says, fiddling with his jacket.

<><><><><>

You made cupcakes, the very ones you had learned to make from Winnie, you had spoken to her after you decided to stop the letters, she wasn’t angry as you had expected. She knew Bucky had messed up and had told you about his letter. You never read it. Just looking at it made your burst into tears.

So you tucked it away in the box labelled Sparkle and Bucky, where you stored away the trinkets collected till age fifteen and his unopened letter.

You pulled your thoughts away and onto the upcoming months you were visiting a publication expo due to the deferral year you took from university. Independently writing for a magazine, running your own blog of micro poetry and pieces was doing okayish.

However an internship with an independent publication house made you realise working in this industry is where you would thrive.

The car coming to a halt outside had your mother squeal and run out, then two squeals could be heard followed by laughter. You went up to the door, eyes on Winnie and your mother, a clicking sound made you look at the source.

Bucky brought the camera down from covering his face, as he grinned admiring the two best friends, his hair longer and he seemed much more taller and you notice how much more bigger his biceps have gotten.

“Oh, Y/N!” Winnie calls you with glee, “Look at you! All grown up the pictures you mother sent do no justice to how beautiful you are,” She bounds up at steps arms outstretched you smile with a blush warming your cheeks.

“You’re too kind.” You mumble, you know your features are sweet but the weight you’ve gained along the way would at times make you think otherwise.

“Oh nonsense.” She dismisses your attempt to take the compliment, “Beautiful.” She tucks your hair back, placing a kiss to your cheek.

Rebecca follows her mom giving you a kiss on the cheek and a warm sleepy hug.

“Okay you can go crash in my room.” You laugh as she yawns out a thank you, swiftly making her way upstairs.

Bucky is unloading the bags, you put your hands in the back pocket of your jeans contemplating.

The mothers share a look, “Y/N why don’t you go help James?” Your mom says, you shoot her a look, Winnie pulls her inside before you can catch onto their little planning.

Bucky hits his head on the trunk door when he sees you stand next to him.

“Shit,” He rubs his head, looking at you, pausing as he takes in your appearance. You feel small under his towering form, you both don’t say anything for a while just standing there, awkwardly.

What do you even say to your long lost best friend?

“I’m sorry.” Bucky verbal vomits the apology without thinking, you raise an eyebrow, “For um, for putting your mum and you through all this trouble.” He gestures around with his hand.

“Oh, um not really a problem.” You shrug and move to grab a bag from the trunk.

“Um, that is my camera equipment…” Bucky looks the bag with such admiration, you’re almost scared to put it back down.

“I can be careful… If you want to switch no problem…” You offer the bag and he switches. The trip back to the house is silent.

Some how both of you still manage to walk in sync.

Winnie tells you the major chunk of things are coming with the movers tomorrow as you and Bucky settle around the dining table with mugs of coffee.

“Bucky, mum tells me you’re into photography now?” Your mom smiles fondly at the boy in front of her, she did pinch his cheeks moments ago and Bucky knew she would do it again. He grinned.

“I am, yes, I run my own blog, did a few indie band shoots for their Instagram pages, also covered a friend’s wedding.”

Bucky talks animately and you find yourself smiling as he speaks fondly about his passion, blue eyes filled with pride and joy.

“Oh and this is the best thing that happened in a while.” Bucky pulls out his phone, “I have a friend, they have huge writing blog posted one of my photographs and held a competition and god the entries are all so great especially this one.” Bucky loads the comment.

“Wait a second, Y/N what is your blog’s name?” Your mom looks at you, your eyes widen in panic as realisation hits, Bucky reads the blog’s name and you nod.

“Holy shit, Sparkle! You’ve written such great stuff, I practically broke my phone reading and scrolling! I even showed Rebecca and Ma, god you’re talented and you even won that competition, Sparkle, damn—,” Bucky’s excited chatter stops when he realises he used your nickname and revealed the fact he read your letters.

“Excuse me.” Is all you say before running up to your room, voice on the verge of tears, Bucky stays in his seat, head in his palms.

“Just give her sometime.” Your mum assures him giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t think she will give me more…” He takes a deep breath, “Should I?” He asks the two insightful women, they shake their heads.

“After dinner, I’ll send you both to pick up groceries then you can speak.” Winnie high fives her best friend.

Bucky looks between the pair questioningly and decides he wont wait, he grabs a notepad from his bag as he makes his way to the guest room.

‘dear sparkle y/n,

i’m sorry, i’m an idiot.

though i stand by it, your pieces are beautiful.

-bucky.’

He slips the note under your door and retreats to his designated room opposite to yours before you decide to slide it out.

Dinner passes by wordlessly on your part, only answering yes and no when spoken to directly. Bucky hopes to coax laughter out of you, so he tries making jokes but when you don’t respond to them he keeps quiet.

“Sweetheart, would you run to the store? We want to start the move earlier so a few groceries should be better bought earlier.” Your mom requests as you finish drying the dishes with Rebecca.

“Okay.” You take a once over of your appearance, deciding to keep wearing the superhero shirt and shorts.

“Do you have a list?” You ask Winnie who nods, Bucky is helping put away the dishes, so you think at least he may not tag along.

Winnie hands it to you, sheepishly smiling at the length of the list, “I know it is a lot but,”

“No, No, don’t worry about it. I-if I can’t find something I’ll let you know.” You look up at her, biting your bottom lip, Bucky looks at you as you shift from one foot to the other. You never did enjoy the task he recalls.

You smile at her, the prospect of the night drive is appealing.

“Oh Bucky has my card so he can tag along with you.” Winnie adds just as you grab your cardigan and purse, so much for enjoying the drive.

Bucky wonders if your shoulders stiffen because you’re uncomfortable. He almost backs out; trusting you with the pin of the card.

“Oh sure.” you say heading out the door to your car.

Bucky looks at the three women, they give him a thumbs up each. He wonders how much luck would he need to repair his friendship with you.

You’re waiting in the car, head on the wheel, “Just groceries, you don’t have to talk.” you mutter trying to soothe yourself.

Bucky opens the door and you straighten up too quickly, hitting your head on the lowered visor which snaps it back up with a thunk, “Ow.”

“You okay?” Bucky looks worried as you rub your head, the light in the car showing him your tinted cheeks, he chuckles.

“Are you laughing at me?” You ask, he pales.

“No-no I just, I hit my head in the afternoon and now you did… It reminded me of,” Bucky’s smile returns,

“The museum?” You laugh at the memory, both of you took a tumble down the steps to the museum getting scrapes on your knees, the injuries placed same but received at different hours.

Your smile doesn’t fade as you pull onto the road driving to the 24 hour store fifteen minutes away a comfortable silence takes over which is only broken by the light songs on the radio.

Bucky finds himself taking in your appearance, you have changed so little yet so much he thinks, the way you hold yourself with more confidence, when you aren’t worrying about how things are between the two of you.

Your laughter still the same that shines through him, the sound making him laugh even more than what the joke would be, god he missed you.

You could feel his eyes on you, you tug the shorts down, skin bunching as the hem tightens when you sit. A little self consciousness flooding through you.

Bucky notices the movement, his eyes trail over your thighs and he wonders briefly how they would feel wrapped around him if he lifted you up in a hug like before.

You are in the milk aisle when you hear the familiar snickers, Bucky was on the other end finding the flavoured yogurts Rebecca requested on text.

“I never knew cows came to inspect the milk.” Sharon Carter laughs, you roll your eyes a fake pleasantry smile on your face.

“Sharon, always a pleasure.” You turn back to grabbing the milk you need putting it into the cart.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow when a taller man joins the blonde you were speaking to, he feels something off. He quickly grabs the selected boxes of yogurt and walks over.

You try moving forward when Brock Rumlow stops your cart. Great.

“Oh come on a deferral, just say the university has no space to accommodate your size.” Rumlow gives a hearty chuckle as Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“I thought I recognised the scared little bully.” Bucky says placing the items in the cart then standing next to you, “Was is shaving cream in your bag or was it whipped cream?” He reminds Brock who clenches his hand into a fist.

“Barnes?” Rumlow asks, Bucky nods.

“Oh this is rich,” Rumlow looks at you, you pale.

“Was it not his letter you roamed around with?” He asks, then Sharon smirks.

“Oh I remember! Oh Bucky they called me a fat pig, Oh Bucky I miss you.” She makes mocking smooching noises and you wince recalling their harsh words.

Bucky’s hand clenches on the cart’s handle.

“How did your universities accept bullies? Or did you get rejected since your bigheadedness take up more space than they could accommodate?” Bucky asks, pushing the cart harshly into Rumlow who moves giving way to move to the next aisle.

As you pass by them, “Fatty got left all alone and weak, if you hear her it sounds like a pig’s squeak.” Sharon belts out the old rhyme they came up with in school, you pause, Bucky is about to go punch Brock and you stop him, turning around with a bottle of chocolate milk in hand.

The two bullies don’t see it coming when you empty the entire one litre bottle on their heads as they are turned away. Both turn very slowly. Bucky pulls you back, both abandoning the cart and running through the aisles with Brock hot on your heels.

Bucky looks at you unable to help his laughter at what you did, you laugh with him and you both feel like you are twelve running away from Brock once again. Bucky leads you behind the frozen food aisle, pressing you against the wall and him facing you. The dry ice smell cascades around your senses.

Both of you breathing hard, Bucky feels the steady rise of your chest against his own, he looks down at you, you look up at him and his breath catches god your eyes hold that same sparkle that gave you your nickname when you both were seven.

His heartaches at how long it has been since he saw you happy with him there as witness.

When you look up at Bucky you didn’t understand the expression on his face it, it seemed as though longing muddled with happiness?

Your eyes flicker to his lips, parted to catch his breath. You dismiss the thought but not before it makes you blush. You look away to his hand still intertwined with yours, making you smile.

Bucky’s free hand twitches, wanting you to look back into his blue eyes.

“Where are you two?” Brock’s voice is close, Bucky and you slip back backing away quietly.

“Brock let it go, my dress is stained. Ugh.” Sharon complains much to your relief.

You both peek out from the aisle, sighing as the coast is clear.

You look at Bucky during the walk back to the abandoned cart his gaze is upon you, when your eyes meet, his lip twitches and you both break into a fit of giggles. Bucky wipes the tears from his eyes and you try to even out your breathing as the laughter calms down.

You take inventory of the cart frowning that you used the last bottle of chocolate milk for your plan, till an outstretched arm holds a smaller chocolate milk bottle in your vision.

Bucky has a small smile gracing his lips, azure eyes full of hope, “Saved you a bottle.”

Adoration courses through you and so does the love you hold for Bucky which had been tucked away.

You raise your arms and engulf him in a hug, Bucky is taken aback but quickly wraps his arms around you. Sighing as the ache on his heart is slowly fading into nothingness.

“I’m sorry I never wrote back, sparkle.” Bucky whispers, stroking your hair, the scent of vanilla grounding him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t read your letter. I was so mad at you.” You whisper back, tightening the hug.

“Rightfully so.” Bucky pulls away to look at you, you’re crying too, “God, I wish I could have been there, written back, you went through all this shit. I’m so sorry, sparkle.”

“It, its not okay but I think we can try again? Our friendship?” You look at him hopeful, he smiles, nodding and pulling you into a bear hug.

Bucky sniffles, “I did, I did write replies, when we unpack tomorrow, I’ll show you the letters.”

When you check into the hotel three months later, you furrow your eyebrows when the receptionist hands a letter addressed to you.

Smiling as you recognise Bucky’s handwriting you open it in the elevator too excited,

‘Dear Sparkle,

good luck on your first publishing exhibition/expo/experience you’re going to learn so much and beat all the people outta their seats, i kind of buttered up your mom to give me the address of your hotel.

i wanted us to start writing letters again, it has been something we did and shared and only if you’re comfortable then you can write back if it is difficult then we can stick to texts and sending memes.

i miss you, college is going okay, been about two weeks since i left home, god i still can’t believe the chocolate piece moved. do you think the ghost it latched to one of us?

love you sparkle, send me pictures from the trip.

-bucky’

You grin holding the letter to your chest as you walk into the room you share with the other intern at your work place.

Immediately you start writing a reply on the hotel stationary.

<><><><><><><>

Bucky sighs entering his apartment, who told him to major in journalism and history? Though being a photo journalist is something he wants to do dearly just the path of education is seemingly harder today.

He received your texts, smiling as he read how excited you were for everything going on at the publication expo, endless goofy pictures you sent him made his heart swell with adoration. It had been 4 days since he knows you received his letter.

He’s laughing while replying to the picture you sent him of an apple just lying underneath a traffic light, no idea why you both find it funny.

“Whose got Broody Barnes all happy?” Sam Wilson his room-mate says walking into the hall, dropping a stack of envelopes onto the table.

“Sparkle.” Bucky says, looking at a surprised Sam.

“The Sparkle?” Sam enquires, leaning over the couch and trying to peek at the texts.

“Yes.” Bucky locks the phone and Sam pouts, “Oh come on.”

“By the way there is some mail for you.” Sam informs, Bucky eagerly grabs the stack, sifting through and landing on the envelope bearing his name in your writing.

He quickly opens it, excitement flooding through his being.

‘Dear Bucky,

i can’t believe how you pulled off having the letter here before me, i read it in the elevator. I miss you too. i think the ghost moves around our neighbourhood.

i’m glad to hear college is going well, though i think doing a double major may be hard, i believe in you and your capability to get through it.

i think i might go ahead with the double major as well, I took a year’s deferral so, I don’t really know how will it go.

i’m proud of you.

love you too buck i’m sending you a picture as i write.

-sparkle.

ps. waiting for your next letter.’

Bucky can’t wipe the grin off of his face.

twenty three.

‘dear sparkle,

my recruitment week starts next week, i’m so nervous.

i really wish you were here. i know i can call you but it just won’t be the same.

all these questions are swirling in my mind, what if i do not get the placement i want? what if the internships i did were the wrong choice? what if my grades aren’t impressive?

you would know what to say, could you just give my interviews for me?

fuck, sparkle i don’t even know what pictures to put in my portfolio.

what kind of photographer does not know his strongest pictures?

i hope your exam week is going well, also you’re going to win that creative writing competiton that you’re worried about, send your piece to me so i can read it over, if you need an objective opinion? but i’m biased towards you. you will win it.

sorry to dump this on you, i know you’ve had a busy and hard week.

will you be visiting home for break? i might be depending on how the recruitment goes. maybe we could co-ordinate flights?

i miss you.

-bucky.’

You read Bucky’s letter on the night of exam week being over, most of the classes are done for the semester, an idea pops up in your head and you call your mom then Rebecca to get Bucky’s roommate’s number.

When Sam receives you at the train station and you can finally understand why Bucky trusts him immensely, Sam has this comforting aura that radiates warmth and safety, for a minute you wonder if Rutgers makes everyone go hard at the gym and wear more form sitting outfits because like damn, Sam.

“So whats with the nickname Sparkle?” Sam ponders never getting an answer out of his friend.

“No idea, Bucky gave it to me.” You shrug, realising you never really asked the question yourself.

“Oh come on, he won’t tell me either.” Sam whines, as he helps you with your bag into the elevator, you can only offer a sympathetic smile, “I’m as clueless as you buddy.” You pat his back.

“So you’re at Yale?” He asks as the two of you walk down the hallway.

“Yes, Psychology and English major. What do you study?”

“Aerospace Engineering.” Sam says with a grin.

“Wait you’re like smart, smart.” You comment.

Sam’s booming laughter infects you as you join in.

“Please say that in front of Bucky.” He requests and you grin nodding.

Sam opens the door carefully, when he knows for sure Bucky is in his room he lets you in and guides you to Bucky’s door.

“Good Luck.” He whispers backing away to take the video as you requested.

You raise your hand and knock, you can hear shuffling on the other side and a shirtless toned chest is what you are at eye level with, you gulp.

“What is it Sam—Sparkle?” Bucky blinks multiple times rapidly, “You, you’re here? I must be dreaming.” He says, and you hesitantly reach out to poke his arm.

“Hi.” You grin at him, Bucky’s jaw drops and he picks you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he twirls you around, you squeal holding onto him tightly.

“Bucky! Don’t you will—,” You try not to put too much weight on him, but he’s twirling you up like nothing.

“Doll, don’t say a word, I can do several push-ups with you sitting on me.” Bucky’s blue eyes find yours and they are shining bright, his cheeks are flushed with how much he is grinning.

“I know Mr. I can bench press triple digits.” Bucky’s helped you immensely to let go of the comments, he always only brought you resources to help you, checked in on your progress with your mental health. Never pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with, he made sure you would have mental health check ins regularly. He caught on to your traits for being in an overload before you did.

The way the months went after you both cleared the air were a blur, as though the four years of the move never formed a deep ravine of hurt and despair. The entire moving in process was cathartic for the two of you, finally communicating and rebuilding the bridge over the gap that formed.

Bucky lets you down gently, pulling you back in for a hug. His woodsy pine scent mingling with the vanilla of your lotion, makes you feel right at home.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s surprise returns.

“Well somebody wanted to surprise somebody and I coordinated it.” Sam hands your phone back while he points from you to Bucky.

“Thanks Sam,” You grin at him.

“Anytime sweetheart.” Sam winks at you and you giggle.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, are you two flirting?

“I have an early day catch you both tomorrow.” Sam gives you another wink and departs to his room.

“You’re really here.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, hugging you tightly again, your warmth grounding him, the way you just fit into his arms like you belong there.

You bask in the warmth he provides, feeling his steady heartbeat, you could just stay this way.

Both Bucky and you stiffen slightly at the thoughts, pulling away.

“I am, now I believe you were having trouble with your portfolio.” You try to say teasingly, keeping your eyes on his face, bags under his eyes indicate his lack of sleep.

You hesitantly raise your hand to trace over his cheek, Bucky leans into your touch, shoulders relaxing in the relief he finds by your gesture.

<><><><><>

Bucky feels your fingertips lingering on his cheek even as you both are sprawled across his room’s floor, the photographs in transparent folders as you think over how to make up this segregation for the portfolio.

“Have you made a digital folder?” You wonder as your hands inch towards the picture of Winnie and your mom from the day they met again after years.

You could feel the warmth and love in the picture.

“All the pictures are coded so the ones in the physical one can go in a digital one which are watermarked.” Bucky runs his palm across his face, scratching over his scruff.

“Okay how about, I pick up a stack of pictures, show you each and then you say yes or no without a second thought.” The idea sparks inside you and you think it can work.

“We can try that yeah,” Bucky straightens up, ready to do this, he watches you pick up the stack of local events he covered.

You hold up one where the marathon winner crosses the finish line, half leapt up in the air, they just realise and have tears in their eyes mid air.

Bucky nods, “Yes.” He grins at you this would work.

And it did, an hour later you had ten pictures each in various categories that gave a good sense of Bucky and his body of work.

As you zip up the file with a yawn, Bucky’s gaze softens you came in right after your exams without break for him.

“Hey sleepyhead, take the bed I’ll take the couch.” Bucky chuckles as your half asleep gaze meets him.

“What? No, you need sleep, I’ll take the couch.” You protest, Bucky places both his hands on his hips, looking too much like Winnie Barnes before she would scold their duo.

“Sparkle.” He warns, you quickly take a picture on your phone.

“Bucky, you look exactly like your mom before she would scold us.” You break out into giggles at his mortified expression.

“Sparkle.” He whines, trying to grab your phone away from you to delete it.

Currently you’re pinned under him arms extended up to stop him from getting your phone.

“Sparkle I just want to check the time.” He feigns innocence.

“Bucky you have a clock right there.” You point out, huffing.

“In London!” He defends.

“Use your own phone.”

“Yours is nicer.” Bucky huffs, he nods as he decides to tickle you.

You pale as you realise what is he planning.

“No.” You warn trying to scramble away before he begins.

“Oh no, no, no,” Bucky pins down your hands in one of his and his free hand begins tickling your sides as you squeal and try to break away.

Bucky has a million dollar smile as your phone drops out of your grip but he just enjoys having you laugh and squeal, your skin is so soft and warm and god he just wants to kiss you, he pauses the thought taking him by surprise.

Your face is inches away from his, you’re breathing hard but still laughing up at him, arching away from him and you are flush against his now shirt clad chest.

Bucky’s face moves closer, you look at him, then down to his lips, your mind flashes back to the grocery store aisle. His lips are so close his breath fans across your face, you close your eyes.

The doorbell rings and you open your eyes, Bucky looks into yours searching for something, he wonders if he should continue before answering the door. You bite your lip, wondering if he regrets it, the next ring of the doorbell has you both scramble up to grab the late night chinese take out.

<><><><><><><>

‘dear Bucky,

god i feel stupid writing this after six months of that moment in your room.

i can’t outright ask you, it just feels, it feels different between us? not in a bad way, fuck, did we fuck up? why didn’t we just kiss? it feels so right being in your arms and having you in mine. as though, as though we were made for each other?

why can’t i just tell you that i am in love with you, i am in love with my best friend, probably have been for the longest time and i wished we would have kissed in the grocery aisle.

you would think i would know what the right fucking words are? being a writer and all but i don’t have them. at all. i just know four that only make sense—

Bucky, I love you.

I’ve written countless letters to you and yet writing this one seems to be the biggest task even though what i want to say to you is so very simple.

I want to tell you in person, I want to say the words, to you in front of everyone.

I just I worry what if what if i lose you?

I’ve written countless lines about love and yet I don’t know if this is enough, if these scattered words, that i’m scrambling to put together to make some coherence out of are even making sense?

I wishfully think that maybe, maybe you love me too, in the same way, its so selfish of me, hoping praying that my best friend is in love with me as well.

If you do not feel the same wat then just forget about this, I, I don’t know just, don’t stop being my best friend please. it is selfish of me to put this on you and still want you in my life but, i lost you once i can’t i can’t lose you again.

-Sparkle.’

You groan, this letter sounds and looks so stupid. Zero readability. Zero continuity, clarity, ugh.

You turn the page over placing it on the papers in front of you as your room-mate Natasha walks in,

“Are you going to tell him you are in love with him or is that love letter not happening? Of all the important things to write in a letter neither of you do that.” She sits down on the table, shuffling the papers to make space.

“He doesn’t love me, love me.” You object and Nat smacks your arm.

“He took the midnight train to here because you were having an anxiety attack. He stayed on call while he took a two hour train ride and then held you till you finally slept after a four day non sleep fest. He stayed till he knew you were absolutely fine and only then did he leave. I don’t know any best friend that would do that.” She lists the points on her fingers.

“Nat,” You start, she holds up a hand.

“Will you lose him if you tell him?” Her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly.

“Will telling him how you feel make you feel better?”

“Nat, I don’t know I want to yell that I love him but, I’m scared I’ll lose him as my best friend, that can’t happen again.”

Natasha pulls you close, as you sniffle.

“You should tell him, I know from the way he looks at you.” She reassures you.

“If this backfires I will stop talking to you.” You warn her, as she smiles.

“Send the letter.” She prompts.

“No, I’m, I’m going to give it to him the next day of his graduation.” You decide, the entire family would be there so if anything went sideways you would not be missed.

Graduation.

Bucky spots you sitting on the bleachers between your mom and his, they made a whole trip out of it deciding to stay for a few days, he waves at you all before settling into his designated chair, his phone chimes.

Sam: man you have to tell her.

Bucky: Sam will you just drop it.

Sam: no i will not, if you don’t tell her i will ask her out.

Bucky glares at the phone turning to locate Sam’s smug grin.

Sam looks down typing as Bucky’s phone chimes again.

Sam: she will still be your best friend, even if she doesn’t love you the same way, which is impossible because that entire weekend she wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

Sam attaches a picture he sneaked of Bucky being on the phone in the kitchen and you looking fondly at Bucky, he could clearly see the red tinge on your cheeks.

Bucky: fine i’ll tell her today, but if this backfires…

Sam: I will be on the receiving end of James Barnes’ Trademark Glare for eternity.

Bucky: Worse.

Sam: just tell her you love her then you will hug me because she loves you too

Bucky turns his phone silent as the Dean begins the opening statements, the entire event is a blur and Bucky finds your smiling gaze when he takes his degree in his hands. All of you are cheering so hard for him he feels elated and accomplished.

As Sam and he wait for the crowd to disperse so they can introduce each other’s families, you run upto Bucky and hug him.

“Congratulations.” You kiss his cheek, Bucky feels his skin warm at the gesture.

“Thank you, Sparkle.” He keeps his arm around you as the Barnes and Wilson’s approach the cleared area as well.

Winnie Barnes instantly pulls Sam into a warm hug and pinches his cheek, where as Sam’s nephews AJ and Cass run up to Bucky, he bends down to pull them into a hug.

They ring choruses of congratulations all around and Sam and Bucky both can’t let go of their elated mood. During dinner you notice Sam gesturing with his head to Bucky, and Bucky shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. When you catch Sam’s eye he quickly looks away.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper to Bucky.

“Ye-yeah, Sparkle.” Bucky is caught off guard and he wishes Sam would be discreet.

You nod, not really satisfied and worrying if something is amiss.

Bucky takes note of your worried expression and leans in,

“Sparkle, I promise its nothing to worry about, Sam’s just stressing over his internship.” He assures, taking your hand in his and rubbing soothing circles.

“You sure you aren’t covering up something thats bothering you?” You raise an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head.

“No, I would tell you if it was, promise.” He smiles.

“Oh um I have my next letter with me I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” You say no idea why are you putting yourself in this position.

“Why not today?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows.

“Well because if I sent it by post it would reach tomorrow.” You shrug hoping your voice does not waiver.

“Well I want to read it today.” He presses on,

“Bucky, no today is about you.” You defend.

“Yes and that letter is addressed to me. Come on it’ll be my graduation gift.” He juts out his bottom lip making a puppy eyed face.

You sigh, handing it to him, his smile looking at the envelope is worth bringing forth your humiliation a day ahead.

Bucky opens the envelope, eager to know your thoughts, when his smile falters you feel your heart sink down into the pits of the marina trench.

There is a silence that slowly takes over the table, as they notice you looking at Bucky with tears in your eyes and Bucky reading the letter.

Bucky can’t say anything emotions caught in his throat, he really wished he would have kissed you in the grocery store too.

He can’t believe it you love him too.

Bucky, I love you.

The words burn into his memory, etched upon his heart and he looks up at you tears in his eyes as well.

“I’m sorry, I should not have—,” You begin your apology,

“Sparkle, Sparkle, I love you too.” He cuts you off, watching as you take his words in and your sadden expression turns into elation.

“About damn time.” Sam mutters.

As Bucky grins cupping your cheek and finally having your lips on his own.

There is a chorus of awes around the dinner table that just makes both of you grin in the kiss, both of you blushing as you pull away.

Bucky wraps his arm around you as your head rests on his shoulder, he kisses your forehead, with an unspoken promise of forever.

Bucky, age sixteen.

‘Dear Sparkle,

I got the letter where you said you won’t write anymore, it broke me, i cannot get through a day without my mind making me search for you in the crowd.

i know i’ve been an idiot, dickhead if you will. I cannot lose you. I cannot lose my best friend, do you know why i call you sparkle? it is not because of those sparkle pens you had, its because, when you looked at me when i was seven there was this sparkle in your eye and I just had to know you.

Because someone with that much radiance around her had to be the biggest source of happiness right? and you were and still are.

i won’t mind if you throw this letter without reading.actually i will feel horrible, that

i was so stupid to get into what the people at school said that friendships fade so there is no point in trying to keep them.

i hope you can forgive me, should i send the other unsent letters too? maybe i should, but if you want to then only i will, i, i’m so sorry for what is going on at home, mom won’t tell me, do you want me to call? I’ll ask mom to let me talk to you next time she speaks to your mom.

sparkle please forgive me, i know this is my own doing, i’m an idiot but i’m your idiot best friend.

nine months of no responses and i’m asking for you to not be mad at me, i’m asking for a miracle, but that won’t happen will it? hope it does.

i love you

i miss you so much it hurts, i know it hurts you too.

-bucky.’

----x----

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hurryupharry · 2 years

Text

renewed

hello my lovies! THANK YOU for all the love on promises (which is part one to this story). i'm so happy you love it as much as i do - it is all for you to enjoy. here is the highly, highly requested part two. highly recommend listening to sweet creature while you read. enjoy x

pairing: harry x reader word count: ~2,200 warnings: all fluff... + some mention of sex ps. sorry in advance to all of you named emily, it's not personal ;)

Groggy and blinking away the sleep from your eyes, your arm instinctively pats the area to your right in search of his warmth - hoping to feel his firm chest, or if you missed it, his face, mouth agape in a state of slumber. You got neither of it though. The sheets were awfully cold, not even a dip in the bed to tell you he’d just gotten up ahead of you. That’s when you recalled the events that transpired last night, eyes squeezing shut in agony as they replayed in your head.

You hadn’t slept well, of course. What you said last night wasn’t just in the heat of the moment - the last time he released an album, you hadn’t settled down in your work and weren’t tied down to anything. Wherever he went, you followed. This time was different though, you had your own dreams to chase. Unlike what most of the media thinks, your goal in life isn’t just to watch him succeed. You wanted to, too.

Reaching over to pick your phone up, your heart sunk a little seeing a message from Harry. He wasn’t much of a texting guy, he much preferred short phone calls where he’d get to hear your voice loving on him and tell you just how much he loved you straight from his mouth. Your finger hovered over the play button. The message could’ve been anything, you thought. He could’ve broken up with you right there in that message, and you grappled with the idea of that being a possibility. But he’d never do that to you – and if there was one thing you were confident about, it was that Harry Styles would never break up with you over text.

H ♥ 🎵 Audio message

“I say we just go with what we have right now, H - it sounds good,” you heard Mitch’s voice speak softly in the background. “No, has to be perfect, Mitch… S’ just missing something,” there he was, and you could just imagine him shaking his head, the almost inaudible sound of his pen tapping against his notebook a telling sign that they were in the studio.

“… You bring me home. Wherever I go – and I want the next one t’ be something like,” he hums to the chorus of Sweet Creature - one of your favourite songs. “When I– when I run out of road…” he croons quietly, as if slowly putting the pieces together. “You bring me home.”

“Fuck, man – that’s the one,” he breathes out, and you can picture him smiling, dimple on full display, quickly scribbling the lyrics down. “She’ll love it H, don’t you worry. Y/N adores anything you make, even if you write about anything or anyone else.”

“No, I know. Just want it t’ be good, you know how much she means to me… Never been able to put it into words before this.”

Tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to spill as you reached the end of the recording. You never assumed the song was about you, and strangely enough, you’d never asked. He thought you did, considering how much you loved it, and you just never discussed it. Putting your phone down, you made your way to your shared bedroom, the door slightly ajar so you could peek in. He wasn’t there.

The lack of any music in the home reaffirmed that it was just you around. Walking over to the living room, you almost burst into tears seeing an all-too-familiar banana walnut muffin on the coffee table, sat perfectly next to a bright pink sticky note. It was your favourite from the little coffee shop down the road where the old ladies loved greeting Harry and yourself by mimicking the sound of wedding bells.

‘Put on a warm coat. You know where to find me. x H’

You used to do this all the time on lazy Saturday mornings together. Pop by that coffee shop, buy banana walnut muffins and your morning coffee - a little sweeter on the weekends, just because. He’d already have his juice in hand, made fresh himself. You’d then sit on your beloved park bench, the one with flowers growing out the cracks in the stone, and watch the world go by for an hour or two. Of course you knew where to find him. It was the place where you talked about falling in love, dreamt of the future and pondered over what names your kids would have. He hoped meeting you there would remind you of everything you’d envisioned together.

Bundled up in a blue coat and that mohair sweater he loved to death, you spotted him instantly. He looked tense, fingers grabbing onto the seat of the bench, eyes scanning the entrances of the park to make sure he didn’t miss you. You could see him relax a little once he saw you, his right hand lifting into the air to wave you over. He even offered you a small, timid smile. Didn’t seem like he got much sleep either, his eyes a little droopy and tired, skin looking more dull than usual.

“Hi, my love,” he greeted you, getting up to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. You gave him a small hello, cheeks rosy from his kiss. For once, you were grateful that the cold nipped at your skin and concealed the fact that you blushed at the contact. “Sit, please.”

“So, let me start – questions at the end, okay?” he took your hands in his once you were both sat down, his left leg bent so he could sit facing you. You were cross-legged, like you always were. “I disappointed you, and I know that’s one of the worst feelings in the world. Thought ‘bout what you said last night a whole lot… It’s been hard on you and I can’t change what’s happened. In a couple months I’ll be away again and it’s different now - you love what you do, and I can’t just have you up and leave for me.”

“As much as we’re in this together, you have your own life that I won’t ask you to put on hold for me. It really all boils down to me, my love… I have to do better. Like you said, promises aren’t any good if I can’t keep them, but I’m not promising this time. M’ swearing on my life, this is all I’ve ever wanted. No matter what I do, as long as I come home to you - so I swear, m’ love, whatever it takes. I know it’s hard to trust me, and I don’t deserve it, but I will do everything in my power to make this work.”

“I– I don’t know what to say, H… I see all of it with you too, everything we’ve spoken about. It’s just so much harder when I have to keep reminding myself that you’re in this with me when you’re never around. This morning, that recording… You never told me about that,” you began, looking down at your hands wrapped perfectly in his. He wore none of his rings, his fingers bare and warming up your own. “It was awfully sweet, H… I just wish you felt like that every single day.”

His eyebrows furrowed upon hearing that and he felt like he could throw up from how terrible that made him feel, almost like his insides were being stirred and knotted up. He’d made you question if he even loved you in the first place, and he couldn’t believe it.

“My love, y’ know, that song… Spent so many nights trying to figure it out. I’d decided that run in the studio would be the last time I tried to work that one out because I loved the melody so much, but it was just so hard to get it just how I wanted it. And I knew you’d love it too – you’re always listening to these mellow types of tunes at home,” he explained, his thumbs rubbing little circles on the back of your hands. “Don’t know if you remember this, but we were in Malibu and we’d decided to take a leisurely drive to nowhere the day before this studio session. Drove down to a random spot along the beach and jus’ sat there talking about anything and everything for a good three hours.”

“Remember m’ friend from home called to tell me ‘bout one of my favourite teachers growing up who’d gotten sick that morning? I was jus’ a proper mess… Felt so disconnected from everything then, and so afraid that people back home would think I’d forgotten about them. You jus’ sat there and listened t’ me talk about all of my worries, held my hand and all that… Reminded me I can’t boil the ocean, or one of those quotes you always like to use on doing stuff within your limits. And we got to talking ‘bout the future, what that looked like for us – never felt more sure that I wanted to make all of that come true with anyone else.”

“You always have this way of breaking things down and making everything so much clearer, even when it comes to the big, scary things… Like reconciling with the past, stressing about the future, or thinking about what comes after. You keep my feet on the ground through it all, m’ love. When we went into the studio the next day, it just fell into place. I’d always wanted the song to be ‘bout you and I could never put everything I wanted to say to you in just a couple of lines. Just thinking about what you said, how you broke it all apart so easily – you said something about not having t’ do everything all at once, and I realised I didn’t have to do that with this song. It was still, of course, for you, but I didn’t have to say everything just then, just what I wanted to in that moment. I think about you every moment of each day, my love… I don’t think I could ever love someone more. M’ sorry I’ve ever made you think otherwise, I really am, and I’ll spend my whole life making up for it.”

You felt your nose get runny and it was suddenly a little hard to breathe. He’d always been such a sweet man, you had a hard time believing it was difficult for him to pen down love songs when he expressed his admiration for you so eloquently. “You don’t have to, H. Trust me, I believe you,” you sighed, feeling his hands cup your face to wipe at the tears brimming in your eyes. “We just need to work on this together, okay? You have to make an effort to call, or just send a text, no matter how busy you are. Just let me know you’re okay, and that we can talk later. That’s all I ask, especially when you’re away. I can’t have you disappear on me, when a text or call is all I have. Not to mention you're awful at video calls, I always feel like I'm talking to a grandpa.”

He nods, stretching his arms out and pulling you in gently. Adjusting yourself, you let your back rest against him, almost lying in his lap. “If you vanish, what’s gonna happen to our kids?”

He lets out a little chuckle at your stupid joke. Only you could say something like this in a moment of vulnerability to make it go over easier. “I know, baby. Emmie and Ezzie can’t grow up without a dad.”

“Emily is a terrible name, babe,” you spat back, rolling your eyes at the thought of the last conversation you had on this bench when he’d decided that Emily was definitely going in his top five favourite baby names. “It’s beautiful, Y/N – I can’t believe we disagree on this.”

“Beautifully boring, you mean,” you couldn’t help but smile at this stupid conversation as his fingers combed through your hair. “Can you please not forget how much you hated Emily in Paris?” All the nights you spent together watching that trashy Netflix series made you grow disdainful towards Lily Collins’ character, though you both loved just how much you hated that show. It was terrible in all the best ways.

“Well, I want it to have a nice ring to it, my love… Has to sound good.”

“Well then, I want to have a nice ring,” you raised your left hand, wiggling your fingers in his face. “Don’t forget who decides whether your kids are eaten or given the chance to live.”

He almost chokes hearing you speak, his mind slowly slipping away to relive moments where you sat in front of him with a little of his load dribbling down your chin… You had him wrapped tightly around your finger, and you didn’t even know it.

“I’ll take my chances,” He shrugs, looking down at you with the goofiest grin you’d ever seen on his face. “Something tells me make-up sex is on the cards.”

You hit his face playfully - and gently, lest there were cameras lurking - feeling unbelievably blissful in that moment with a renewed sense of determination to make things work out between the two of you. You couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, either.

#idk omg #is this satisfactory?#TELL ME #harry one shot #harry styles one shots #harry #writing #harry styles #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #Spotify

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kazoohaa · 2 years

Note

fluffy headcanons with the five heartslabyul boys? 👉👈

(it might be just me but i see them as a really great friend/support group,,, the other 4 gently helping riddle overcome his strictness about the rules,, all of them baking together,, little study sessions with them,, so soft

if you could not tell they are my favorite dorm /lh)

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒. heartslabyul

— notes. i love this idea sm fdjgvjdhg ,,, 😭 heartslabyul stanning hours !! this is a good break from my fish mafia brainrots too lmaooo

— details. riddle rosehearts, trey clover, cater diamond, deuce spade, ace trappola headcanons.

deuce was very embarrassed to ask them at first, but the others very kindly agreed to tutor him in the subjects he found particularly troubling! they know how much deuce genuinely wants to improve so that he can be someone who his mother will be proud of.

ace loses things a lot. like, constantly. but the others will always be able to lend him a spare of whatever he's lost, or offer to help him look for it. he lost his textbook? that's alright, riddle has a spare from his first year. he lost his shoes? deuce supposes he can lend ace his other pair.

riddle's never had much time to (or even be allowed to) use devices, so he doesn't know how many video games or social media works, but the others will be there to teach him the.. wonders of the internet. they're very supportive and helpful (or in ace's case, very teasing) when riddle tries to play some video games.

cater buys them some matching phone cases and matching keyrings too

ace is definitely Not Afraid™ to mercilessly call out riddle if he feels like the housewarden is getting back into his habits of being overly strict with the rules. it's pretty embarrassing being straight-out called out like that, but riddle has to begrudgingly admit that ace is right.

them preparing for unbirthday parties together!! painting the roses, baking sweet treats, taste-testing them, decorating the rose garden!!

riddle's very particular about his note-taking (to nobody's surprise). he has many highlighters (which are in nice colours too, because he dislikes the bright neon ones) and he changes the colour he's using every day also while following a specific order (in the order of the colours of the rainbow :D),

^ riddle's got those "aesthetic" school supplies (especially highlighters) and his collection grows because of trey and cater giving him some more nice pens and things

they are all cater's #1 fans for his magicam account(s)!

they take lots of photos together, too, like after completing some tests, or before/during/after unbirthday/birthday parties, after baking, during study sessions or general hangouts, etc. everyone frames their favourite ones and keep them in their rooms.

GROUP PLAYLIST GROUP PLAYLIST GROUP PLAYLIST

THEY HAVE ONE. OR THREE. THEY JUST DO.

ace and cater are the ones who add the most songs in their shared playlists. riddle and trey like to play it while they're studying.

the others letting riddle traumadump about the stuff that his mother did or made him do while growing up,, and they all offer any support or comfort they can give

omg and they always try to attend all of ace's basketball matches as often as possible!! they are his best supporters >:)

ace would also swap the sugar and salt to prank people. cater and deuce (even though they were trying to convince him not to do it) will keep watch if anyones coming down the hallway while he's swapping them so that they can warn him. for some reason the prank Never Works™ on trey. but, it'll definitely work on riddle every single time! obviously, it gets him collared, but it's worth it.

trey had a 'phase' when he was younger where he thought that birds were the absolute best and coolest. no i will not elaborate

they all had emo phases at some point tbh 💔 /hj

ACE BLASTS 'SAMSUNG MORNING FLOWER 10 HOUR LOOP' AT 3AM

riddle just has morning flower as his normal ringtone. he can also play it on the piano.

#🗒 . writing #💌 . mail #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #deuce spade #ace trappola

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER 1 - TAKING FLIGHT

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru does not make it to Argentina straightaway.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Icarus, Icarus, I must be blind not to see you long to touch the sun.

Updates every Monday

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x you, Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (5.6k words)

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene

Masterlist link here!

Join my tag list here!

“Home sweet home ”, Tooru declares grandly, throwing his hands out with the air of a conqueror bursting with pride at the sight of his domain.

Never mind the fact that the apartment looks like it’s been hit by a tsunami of cardboard boxes and scattered bits of furniture. Or the fact that you’re covered in sweat and grime from lifting boxes and shifting furniture and you’d very much like to lie down and not get up for the next week or two, but you can’t because of the never ending list of things to be done - unpacking your belongings, filling in your enrolment paperwork, attending medical school orientation to attend.

But his words wash away the tide of anxiety lapping at the edges of your mind.

Tooru wept and gnashed his teeth when his parents refused to let him chase his dreams to Argentina, and not a single professional team in Japan even looked his way. Don’t be ridiculous, his parents told him with wagging fingers, especially when Chuo University sent a full scholarship his way.

“It is the top school for volleyball” you pointed out, as he spent yet another hour lying flat on his back, eyes swollen from spent tears. “You could go there and grab everyone’s attention by being their starting setter for the next four years.”

He does not respond. You wonder if he’s waiting for the paint on the ceiling to crack.

“Plus” you add slyly. “I’ll be at Chuo with you.”

This catches his attention. “What d’you mean”, he mumbles, throat still sandy with salt.

“I got into medical school there”, you tell him , the smile on your face growing when he finally hurls himself bodily at you, both of you toppling off the bed and onto the floor.

“You’ll be there with me?” he whispers in disbelief.

You laugh wetly into the crook of his neck. “Every step of the way”, you declare, slipping your hand into his.

You’ve both transplanted yourselves from your childhood home in Sendai to a tiny apartment in Tokyo, a veritable hole in paper thin walls. Your hearth is a pair of rusty iron hobs, and your bed is a cheap mattress on the floor, but sunshine spills in from the windows like liquid gold and Oikawa Tooru’s hand is warm in yours.

You wonder what you’ve done in your past life for the gods to smile down on you, to bless you with a boy you love in a place you can both call home .

You’re not usually this sentimental, but just this once, you tug him down towards you, stealing a kiss from him. “I like the sound of that”, you murmur against his lips. “Our home, Tooru”.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “Do you love me?” he asks, with a smile that cages your beating heart in his calloused hands.

You are young. You are eighteen. You know nothing of the world. You know nothing of life.

So you reply - “More than life itself”.

He kisses you with languid ease, stealing the very breath from your chest. You tell yourself you have four years to work up the courage to ask if he loves you as much in return.

“Medical supplies are expensive, so stop coming here to ask for cold presses that you don’t need”, you tell Oikawa Tooru, Captain of the Volleyball Club and currently a veritable pain in your ass for constantly hounding you during your shifts at the school’s sickbay.

You resist the urge to sigh when he throws himself onto the cot, groaning dramatically - “How mean! You and Iwa-chan are the same - brutes, all of you! What’s a guy gotta do to get some tender love and care, especially when he’s injured?”

You cast a doubtful eye at the bandage over his right knee. “Iwaizumi said you recovered, but I guess if you’re really still injured…”

Oikawa grins, sensing victory in sight. “So you’ll give me a cold press and let me rest here during class?”

You drop said cold press onto his knee none too gently. “Sure - though..” your voice trails off, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “That would mean you’re not cleared for practice. I’ll send a note to your coach.”

Gotcha.

It’s your turn to grin when alarm dawns on Oikawa’s face, his eyebrows pinching together as he waves his hands at you, pleading you not to mention a word to his coach - pretty please with a cherry on top, he forgot to do his homework cos he was staying up late to watch volleyball videos last night and needs a place to hide, and you’re the kindest, bestest, person on earth if you let it slide this time, his knee is fine, just fine -

You glare at him, unimpressed.

He pouts, with the largest puppy dog eyes he can muster. Even you are not immune to his charms.

“Fine”, you say flatly. “Just once.”

He thanks you, promising never to darken the doors of the sickbay again without cause.

Of course, he breaks his promise the very next day when he sidles in just before practice, dropping a milk carton and a bun on your table.

“An offering to the maiden of this shrine” he answers teasingly in response to the question in your furrowed brow, trying his best to exude arrogance and saunter off, though his efforts are defeated by the pink tint to the apples of his cheek.

Oikawa Tooru, huh. You wonder.

You and Tooru are drawn into the ebb and flow of university life. You wake up with him by your side each morning, kiss him on the cheek before you both head your separate ways. In a fit of fancy, you imagine that your front door is the portal to different worlds - a little like the enchanted door in Howl’s Moving Castle, a movie Tooru used to make you watch with him on repeat. When you step through it, you find yourself in the humdrum world of medical school - anatomy classes, stuffy professors, scalpels and knives. Whereas when Tooru steps through it - like the titular wizard, he bursts like a fiery comet into a wholly separate, magical world of whistles and drills and volleyball practices.

Your worlds never collide in the day, even though from time to time, you sneak into the gym to watch him practice, unbeknownst to him. Typically, you only see him at night. Dinners are prepared together, shoulders jostling over the kitchen counter to cook rice and produce sourced from the supermarket’s discount bin, before you both huddle over homework. More often than not though, Tooru prefers to spend all his time crouched over his laptop, earbuds on, watching endless streams of volleyball matches.

“Aren’t you ever tired of volleyball?” you ask when you see him analyse yet another video - Argentina versus Japan this time.

You already know the answer before your question leaves your tongue but you ask it anyway, amused when he squawks in indignation and knocks over your cup of tea in his hurry to exclaim - Sick of volleyball? Him, Oikawa Tooru? Never!

Of course, you knew that. Chuo University is the top collegiate team for volleyball, so the coaches demand nothing but the best from their players. You watch by the sidelines as Tooru grinds his body into dust at volleyball practice, coming home every night with sore tendons and aching bones. Balancing a full business course load on top of that would stretch anyone to their breaking point.

Anyone normal that is, because Tooru revels in his hectic schedule.

You attend his first match and you’re blown away by how much he’s grown from being transplanted from barren soil into rich earth. The unerring confidence he’s already shown in his high school days blossoms into an elegant ease. His athleticism grows by leaps and bounds, his game sense sharpens, his sets learn true grace.

He claws his way to a starting position with bloodied fingernails, in blatant disregard of anything that might stand in his way. He builds his own wings, starts to take flight, the light in his eyes shining brighter and brighter the closer he flies towards the sun.

He is no longer the simple school boy you fell in love with from Sendai.

“Will you go out with me if I win our next match?” he asks suddenly, lifting his gaze from the video he’s watching from his usual corner in the sickbay.

“Do I look like a prize for some school boy’s grudge match?” You snipe back, head bent over your homework.

“It was worth a try”, he hrumphs.

You hide a smile.

“I would go out with you even if you lose”, you tell him, though you do not lift your eyes from paper and pen.

A laugh bubbles from his chest - surprised, delighted, triumphant.

“I better make sure I win then. So you don’t change your mind.”

He did not win that game, losing spectacularly in the finals in his second year against his fated rival - Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, a specter that still looms unti over every match he plays in up to today.

True to your word, you sat on his doorstep, waiting for him to return home red eyed, throat raw. You let him drop his aching head into your lap, and like a maiden comforting a weary warrior, you pressed a kiss to his forehead as a balm to his wounds. Then you dragged him by the hand to your favourite ramen stall, ordering two bowls of tonkatsu ramen, with char siu, bamboo shoots, spring onions and gyoza on the side. An inauspicious first date, but you consider yourself lucky nonetheless for having him beside you.

Things are different now. You are blind not to see him long to touch the sun.

No one is surprised when Chuo University wins nationals. The only surprise to the media (but certainly not to you or anyone from Miyagi for that matter), is that Chuo University brings home the trophy with Oikawa Tooru as it’s starting setter.

The boy king finally reaches the national stage.

Even then, he is always, always grasping for more .

“You were amazing!” you gush, as he finally breaks through the triumphant huddle of his teammates to swing you into his arms and greet you with his customary kiss. “I’m so proud of you!”

His eyes glitter as he laughs, giddy with delight, face flushed with pride. “It’s just college, princess. Wait til I go pro”.

Like Ushijima, you think, though that name remains unsaid.

Wax feathers had already started to sprout from the knobs of his spine back in high school, budding beneath your fingertips like a cancerous tumour. Back then it was easy to be wilfully blind to them, but now it's become too obvious to be ignored. Oikawa Tooru’s ambition lies spread eagled, naked beneath the blinding lights of the sports hall. He has only just tasted his first real victory, crossed the first hurdle separating him from his dreams of greatness.

“I’m waiting for that day then”, you respond teasingly.

You only realise later that you lied. He's left the confines of your arms in his quest for the skies.

You laughed when Tooru first broached the idea of sneaking out at night to gaze at stars in the sky. ‘What nonsense’, you’d said. What are the chances of seeing stars amidst the light pollution from a city, even a relatively minor one like Sendai?

“You’re being a meanie, just like Iwa-chan”, he pouted. He kept whining until you gave in.

Tooru picks you up from your home past midnight, chuckling when you label his rusty bicycle ‘a contraption from hell’ and ask him archly whether he truly expects you to entrust your wellbeing to the tiny rack meant to function as the pillion’s seat.

“Stop being a princess, it isn’t as if I can magick a seatbelt from thin air” he teases.

“Howl could”, you point out.

“Well, I could strap you on with my bicycle chain if you prefer”, he answers blithely. “Get on, stop complaining”.

He pedals all the way uphill to the deserted park near school, whining all the way about the strain the extra weight (you) puts on his knees (lies, all of them). You’re torn between pointing out that he chose to drag you out in the middle of the night and kicking him off the bike and commandeering yourself home instead. You choose instead to slap the back of his head.

“Ow!” he squeals. “Brute!”

“Hmph”. You fold your arms in satisfaction.

When he finally finds a spot perfect enough to commence his stargazing adventure, he stops the back, spreads a picnic mat and hands you a flask of hot tea.

“I don’t see any stars”, you say, after fifteen minutes of sitting, stiff and cold in the dark.

“Don’t be impatient! The clouds will clear up soon”, he says, squinting hopefully.

The sky remains overcast.

You sigh, the breath expelled from your nose forming your own personal cloud. You are accustomed to Tooru’s quirks, his all consuming passion for volleyball, his love for all things outer space. You decide to indulge him a little, just once.

“Why don’t you pretend we can see the stars and tell me your favourite thing about each one?”

He brightens up visibly.

“You won’t be bored if I did that?”

You prod his nose, but your eyes are fond. “Have you ever bored me?”

His chest swells. “I suppose not”, he crows, and proceeds to trace the constellations with elegant fingers, spinning stories and conjuring random facts about celestial beings you cannot see. You find yourself enthralled, not by his words, but by the lilt in his voice and depth in his eyes.

“Why d’you love the stars so much?” you ask.

“Did you not just hear anything I’ve just said?” his voice teeters dangerously close to a whine.

You click your tongue against your teeth. “I mean – trivia and myths aside. Why are you so fascinated by what are essentially flaming balls of gas and light.”

“The shallow answer is cos they’re pretty.” He says, laughing airily, before turning his gaze to you, the stark intensity in his eyes causing goosebumps to prickle the back of your neck. “But if my lady here is searching for a deeper answer, well. Aren’t stars the ultimate embodiment of the dreams of all humankind? Even as we strive and fail towards our petty goals, the stars are always there to remind us to look up and reach for the sky”

You flick his forehead. “Pretty words, for a pretty boy”.

“Hey!” He scowls indignantly before he perks up. “Wait - did you see that? There’s a star!”

The sky clears just enough for a pale light to peer through a gauzy cloud. You do see it, and it is indeed beautiful, but your attention has already been captured by the boy beside you. And Tooru being Tooru, naturally notices.

“Why’re you staring at me instead of the sky?”

Perhaps you’re drunk on the magic of midnight skies, perhaps you want to uncover the mystery of his smile yourself. Perhaps that explains why your eyes soften and why your words fall short of a whisper.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and all my stars”, you say. “I like you better than anything in the sky.”

His mouth slackens and for a moment, his eyes are tender before his laugh breaks your flight of whimsy, and you bury your face in your hands, hot with embarrassment.

“Forget I ever said that”, you plead.

“Never!” he cries. “I’m going to remind you how cheesy you can be for the rest of your life!”

You end up having to kiss him to shut him up.

In his second year, Sakusa Kiyoomi joins his team. Tooru finally meets someone who meets his impossibly high standards to fill Iwaizumi’s place as his ace.

He’s literally bouncing on balls of his feet when he comes home after the first practice.

“He’s so prickly and unfriendly but his receiving his top notch, and his game sense is fantastic, and best of all the spin he gives to each spike makes me drool - especially when I see the look on the other side’s faces when they try receiving his ball for the first time - ha ha! ”, he talks at you at breakneck speed as you both prepare dinner, side by side at the cramped kitchen counter.

“Mmhm”, you reply, head thinking of the multiple lectures you attended today, the homework and readings you must do tonight to stay abreast.

“-it’s his wrists, they’re so flexible it nearly made me puke when I first saw him stretch them”, he continues for the rest of the night, heedless of your wavering attention.

You meet Sakusa at one of the few team parties you actually attend. You nearly stumble over him when you try to hide in your usual corner with a plate of food in your hand, watching as Tooru flutters around like the social butterfly he is. His nose and mouth are hidden behind a face mask, but even you can tell he’s uncomfortable to be around so many people, so you tug at his jacket sleeve gently to lead him away from the crowd to a seat at the top of the stairs.

You don’t expect him to speak much to you, if at all, but to your surprise, he initiates the conversation.

“He doesn’t take good care of himself”, Sakusa mutters. You nearly miss his words over the pulsing beat of the music.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask - though you already know who he’s referring to.

“It’s unhealthy, the way you push yourself”, you tell Tooru, hands on hips, standing at the door to Aoba Johsai’s sports hall. You hardly intrude here onto Tooru’s sacred space, choosing instead to stay in the library to study until he’s done with practice and you can both walk home together. But practice has long ended, and your patience has run short - not to mention Iwaizumi popped his head into the library to shoot you a worried expression, dark eyebrows pinched into a pained frown.

You are aware of Tooru’s predilection for working himself to the bone. Or to the shredded remnants of the tendon of his knee, to be more accurate. So you tap your feet, looking pointedly at said injury.

“I’m fine”, he tries to dismiss you without even looking your way.

You refuse to let him.

“You’re not fine”, you tell him coolly, taking another step towards the inner sanctum, the volleyball courts. White lines, painted into brown wood. A single ball, six per side, each jostling for their pride and god.

“Tooru -”

“I need to practice so I can win”, he snarls, handsome face mangled by an angry scowl. “Don’t be like one of those whiny girlfriends, you know I can’t stand that.”

You are not so easily hurt by the barbs in his words. “You can’t win if you’re injured”, you attempt to appeal to his reason. “You know and I know and your coach knows that that knee of yours is going to cause you problems if you don’t rest it properly. So you better listen to me, because so help me - I can tell you that you’re not going to be able to come for practice if you keep pushing yourself tonight”.

His anger simmers into a sulk. “You’re not a doctor”, he replies, a petulant whine at the tail end of his words.

“Not yet”, you respond, and at that, he laughs, surprised that your arrogance matches his own.

Your attention snaps back to the present when Sakusa calls your name. “Sorry”, you breathe. “Couldn’t quite hear you - who were you referring to again?”

“Oikawa”, Sakusa says, confirming your suspicions. “Practises even though I know his knee hurts sometimes”.

You thank him for telling you before carefully diverting the conversation to something a little more innocuous, buying yourself time to turn this new information over in your mind.

You hear him hiss as you open the front door- “Iwa-chan, don’t be stupid, I can’t tell her yet!”

It’s not an uncommon sight to come home at night to find Tooru cradling his phone to his ear whilst juggling a book in his other hand. It is the only time slot that he and Iwaizumi have to catch up.

Still, it is uncommon for him to bolt into the toilet the minute he catches sight of you.

“Is everything alright?” you ask him over dinner.

“Peachy”, he replies between spoonfuls of rice. “Never been better”.

He promptly changes the topic after that.

“Not staying home for dinner?” you ask, arms wrapped around yourself as he lets the chilly air into your apartment, sitting by the open door lacing his training shoes up.

“Wanna work in some more practice tonight”, he murmurs, gaze still locked on his shoes. “Serves and all that. Don’t wait for me, yeah?”

“Right. Just...promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Tooru”, you answer, unable to keep the disappointment from leaking into your voice.

He stands up, turns to face you with a cheery smile. “Of course I will. Anyway, don’t pout, princess”, he sing songs gaily. “We’ll spend some time together after the season is over, I promise.”

“Alright”, you say, unconvinced, reluctantly tipping your chin up to let him kiss your cheek goodbye.

“Tooru?”

You feel the mattress dip. “Go back to sleep, princess”, he whispers, pulling the sheets back up to your chin.

“Where are you going?” You mumble, squinting your eyes at the clock by the side of the bed. “It’s four in the morning. The earliest you wake up for practice is five.”

“I just wanted to practice my serves a little more.” You hear him rustle in the bathroom. Sakusa’s words echo in your ears, and you sit up, bleary eyed.

“Tooru?”

“Mm?”

“Are you taking care of your knee? And getting enough sleep?”

He stiffens. “Of course”, he replies with the tight, plastic smile he only ever gives you when he’s trying to lie. “Why’re you asking me this? Who put ideas in your pretty little head?”

For the first time in your relationship with Tooru, you take care not to accidentally tread on the faultlines of his heart.

“I worry about you”, you say, gripping your sheets as he frowns. “I don’t think you’re sleeping enough - judging from the bags under your eyes, and you shouldn’t be over practising because your knee could very act up - “

“Look - I don’t have time to deal with this” he interjects with a snap. “Just leave me alone and go back to sleep.”

“I’m only saying this because I love you, Tooru.” You automatically tack on - “More than life itself.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out a sigh. “I love you too ok? Stop worrying your pretty head about my health and my knee - we agreed you only get to nag me when you’re a full fledged doctor, remember?”, he adds, with a cheeky smile that does not reach his hooded eyes.

You let him walk out of the house without another word, cotton sheets crumpling in your clenched fists.

You don’t get to talk about it that night because he chatters at you about Sakusa’s tantrum during practice because someone hid his towel, and you can barely get a word in before he slips off to shower and sleep.

He starts to disappear for days at a time, even after the season ends with him not only taking home his second trophy at Nationals, but crowned the best setter in the collegiate volleyball league.

He tells you that there are overnight practice matches and camps. That he’s staying over at his teammates’ flats. You believe him at first. There is, after all, no reason for him to lie.

Still, it is a little funny he refuses to allow you to do his laundry from those trips. You brush away your friends’ concerns that he’s cheating on you - Tooru wouldn’t do that, you assure them with a wide smile that hurts your cheeks.

Tooru would never lie to you.

Then you bump into Sakusa Kiyoomi on campus when Tooru is away again.

It’s night time. Shadows bleed into concrete roads. You’re on your way back home from hiding up in the library all day, reluctant to return to a home without Tooru when you bump into the reticent spiker.

“Aren’t you supposed to be away at practice camp?” you ask innocently, worried that an injury might keep him from playing, though from a quick scan he seems to be fine.

“Practice camp?” He echoes blankly, his face an open book of confusion.

“Tooru mentioned that he’d be away from some practice camp for a few days...”

Your words trail off. Your heart flutters, refuses to accept the truth staring you in the face.

Sakusa frowns. His answer is brutal, direct. “There’s no training camp - hasn’t been in a while”.

“Oh”, you murmur.

Realization needles its way into the space beside your beating heart, drills its way into the marrows of your bones.

“Are you ok?” You faintly hear Sakusa say. It’s your turn to lie.

Tooru comes home the next day, a quarter past two. You’re sitting on the threadbare couch cross legged, a textbook balanced on your lap.

“Where have you been?”

“Practice camp. Didn’t I tell you that?”

You scoff. The page held between your fingers starts to crumple. Your composure frays.

“Really?” Your voice starts to veer into hysterics, straight across the highway into your emotional stratosphere. “Sakusa Kiyoomi told me that there’s no such practice camp, Oikawa. How about you try again with the truth this time.”

He reels back. You can see him trying to formulate yet another lie.

“Princess”, he begins pleadingly, but your temper runs hot and you short circuit at the sound of your nickname from his lips.

You stalk towards him, grabbing the bag in his hand. Like a woman possessed, you wrench the zip open, holding the bag open above your head, emptying its contents out. Dirty clothes, a deflated volleyball, toiletries spill onto the floor. You comb through each and every item in search of a telltale sign - a lipstick mark, a woman’s floral scent, something, anything for you to confirm his infidelity.

What you find, however, is not what you expect.

A red jersey, lying limp in your hands. A contrast to the university’s colours of navy and white.

You flip it around.

The words EJP Raijin are emblazoned across the jersey in stark white.

You look up at him. He stares back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?’

He has the decency to look away.

“Tooru”, you repeat, voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I was afraid of what it meant. For us”, he answers, dropping to his knees in front of you. “You know I’ve always wanted to go pro - and when the Div 1 teams started holding try-outs, I had to go. I tried out for them all except the Adlers, and EJP decided to give me a shot, which was like a dream come true… But I didn’t know if you would be happy if I did take it up.”

“Take what up?” you echo. Your mind is not keeping up with this turn of events.

“Move to Hiroshima to join the team.” He answers warily, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. “You know I’d have to, right?”

You look at him with fresh eyes, this boy you profess to love more than life itself. Wings spread from his shoulder blades, moulded by madness and greed from fire and wax. The reflection of the sun gleams in his eyes. He has left you permanently for the skies.

“What about me?” Your breath stuck in your throat even as you refuse to relinquish the last hold you have on him.

“If you love me”, he begins, reaching out to cup your cheeks and it’s your turn to reel back because you know he’s about to throw back your own words in your face.

If you love me more than life itself - won’t you do this for me?

But you are no longer eighteen. You are twenty one, on the cusp of adulthood. You know a little more about life than you did at eighteen.

You know that your life is here - in Tokyo, among dusty books and lectures and tutorials on anatomy and diseases and germs, and you cannot upend your life and uproot yourself to Hiroshima just to follow someone else’s dreams. You love Tooru, but you do not share his dreams of glory and gold medals, of fleeting victory, of Olympian greatness.

“I can’t”, you say, with a firmness that surprises even yourself.

Again, he does not meet your eyes.

“Then what shall we do?” He asks, lips pressed into a straight line.

For a brief and terrible moment, you are tempted to throw your dignity to the wind, to fall on your knees and ask him to stay in Tokyo with you. But you can no longer turn a blind eye to what’s been staring you in the face for the entire length of your relationship, so you bite the insides of your cheek and grit your teeth.

“We will do what we must”, you tell him, your head held high.

You do not know what hurts more. The lack of pause in his acceptance to your suggestion that you break up, or the painfully obvious relief in his eyes.

He goes to sleep in your shared bed, oblivious to your pain. You do not join him, choosing instead to spend hours seeking privacy in your toilet, knees aching from the cold floor.

You are clinical, even in your anguish.

Wring the liquid grief from your lungs, lay it on the floor to dry. Filter the water from your windpipe, the salt from your eyes. Your organs are scattered on the floor, battered, broken, torn. Save for your heart - you will need to retrieve it, whatever’s left of it at least. You last recall seeing it beneath Tooru’s feet, dashed to pieces as he spreads his wings and takes flight.

You will put yourself back together with steady hands tomorrow, fill the cavity in your chest with the remnants of your organs, secure them in place with stitches and staples. Given time, you think your prognosis is good.

You are young. You will heal.

But now, you are allowed an hour or two to grieve at the very least. To mourn the loss of a relationship you still hold dear, a relationship that you only realise has an expiry date in the short span of a night.

You are a fool for not realising it sooner.

Perhaps he cares for you, but you must now confront the fact that you’ve been wilfully blind to. He could never give you his heart when he’s already given his heart up to someone else - to volleyball, a far more demanding mistress.

You cannot compete with her. You should not have tried.

Tooru files the paperwork to drop out of university. You find another flat, this time for one.

In the weeks before he leaves, you watch him flit about the flat, buzzing with excitement like an overgrown child. His wings nearly suffocate you with its ever increasing breadth and length, but you do not begrudge his happiness. You still love him desperately. You still want what’s best for him.

You write him meal plans, scribble reminders on the proper care for his knee. You help him label his boxes, arrange for them to be sent to Hiroshima via post. You do not tell him how tempted you are to slip yourself whole into one of them. But you start to build a cage for the remnants of your heart, turning a deaf ear even as it pounds against the bars of your ribs.

The time finally comes for him to get on a train bound for Hiroshima. The time finally comes for you to leave the flat.

“Princess”, he says softly, catching your elbow as you stand on the threshold, pulling you flush against his broad chest. You do not trust yourself to speak as he gently tilts your face up to his.

“Thank you”, he breathes against your lips. There is a lingering taste of regret in his kiss.

“For what?” you manage to ask.

His eyes pool with affection, swirl with sadness.

“For everything.” He takes your hands in his, presses a final kiss to your forehead. Your traitorous heart screeches at you to beg him to say. You smother it beneath reinforced walls of steel and bone.

Icarus, Icarus. This is goodbye.

You make him leave before you, watching as he turns his back on you. Then you steal a minute to potter through each room in the little flat that was your home. The bedroom, barely large enough for two. The bathroom, with a propensity for leaking, the shower where Tooru insists on serenading the neighbours, much to their discontent. The kitchen, full of memories of shared dinners, and quiet conversations.

You bid farewell to two full years of happiness, press your forehead against the front door to whisper goodbye to your home.

The lock clicks. You close the door.

371 notes · View notes

katyobsesses · 3 years

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Katy my darling <3 I have a very fun ask for you!! What method of arts do each glee characters prefer and what is their favorite thing to create?

oooooo this is a fun ask!

I'm gonna do S2 New Directions for now, but may add S3-6 ND or other characters later 💛 (warning... this is LONG)

Artie: Film. 100% film. He loves using visual media to tell a story, he also really gets into the sound design side too when he learns it in College. He loves making music videos and after Uni that's mostly what he does. He also directs a lot of movie musicals and musical TV shows. Basically he loves making visual media for songs.

Blaine: Performing - mostly singing. He also love writing songs, which we never see in the show but I can imagine him learning about songwriting in NYU and loving it as a way to express his feelings. it's like a step up from using someone else's words to express them.

Brittany: Obviously dancing! I like to think that after marrying Santana she either goes to college for Dance, or maybe owns a dance studio/goes on tour with Mercedes a lot (with Santana as a guest singer) She really loves teaching little kids how to dance, she knows how to interact with them on their level and the kids love her.

Finn: Singing? I honestly can't think about what he likes. Like singing is the closest thing. He sings in the shower a lot and obviously he loves singing on stage. But he's not that much of an art person outside of that. He likes consuming it but not making it.

Kurt: Sewing, obviously, as well as sketching clothes. He loves making accessories for friends - scrunchies for the girls, bow ties for Blaine, a dog bandana for Sam's golden retriver (because you know he gets one) etc. - but he also loves designing and making costumes for small productions. Maybe he volunteers/works with a small theatre troop and makes & designs all of the costumes while also performing.

Mercedes: Mercedes likes making cards for everyone for Christmas and Birthdays. It started because she'd forgotten to buy a card for someone but had some card and pretty pens on hand and it spiralled from there. She now owns a fancy die pressing kit and lots of card toppers and pretty glitter pens and washi tape and all of that. She has a small kit she brings on all of her tours, it helps relax her after a show - making cards for the crew as a thank you/maybe selling some for charity because she makes so much? When she finally gets back together with Sam they both work together to make Christmas cards from them with cute pictures of themselves in terrible christmas jumpers and their golden retriver in a Kurt made bandana and later their kids in matching outfits.

Mike: Like Brittany he's a dancer first and formost. That's his art. He later goes on to be a professional on Dancing With The Stars where he reconnects with Matt on set (maybe they even get together in the end and the DWTS fans love their relationship and their jokingly competative instagram stories) He loves creating a story with only movement and music. Mike also really likes doodling.

Puck: Photography. I don't know why but I see Puck loving to take pictures of places he visits in his travels. He also scrapbooks but only Quinn knows that - he has a whole scrapbook of pictures of Beth that Shelby sends them and later makes them for all of his other kids too, and he has, like, travel journals and scrapbooks of roadtrips he's been on. Basically he's a Bullet Journal guy. He really likes washi tape and pretty papers and stickers and what-not. He will never admit this.

Quinn: Quinn's a writer. In my head she goes on to write a book that's losely based on her high-school years and it becomes a best seller and is later adapted into a Netflix series directed by Artie. I just like the idea! Maybe Rachel plays, like, the Miss Pillsbury character... or Terri! Or maybe Shelby? I dunno one of the adult characters.

Rachel: Obviously her art of choice is performing. It's singing and acting and standing on a stage or a set and making the words in her script her own. Also scrapbooking/moodboard making.

Santana: Santana likes knitting. She won't admit it but she likes knitting little plushies for Brittany, her favourite is a little bi flag coloured bunny. She makes knitted plushies and blankets for all of her friends when they have kids but she never tells them she made them - everyone knows though, they're too perfect for the couple/person (a cat in a scarf or a toy poodle in a bow tie for Klaine, a teddy adorned with gold stars for St. Berry etc. etc.)

Sam: This could be an essay for me (and kinda is opps). Sam is the Art nerd of the group and tries every type of art he possibly can. Macaroni art, illustration, digital art, traditional art, crafts, pumpkin carving, glass blowing, handlettering, graphic design, knitting, crochet, rag rugs, sewing, card making, pyrography, etc. He will try everything he can in terms of visual art. He doesn't, however, write because dyslexia, and he can't wrap him mind around, like editing and film stuff - he does try though because why not. He also really likes songwriting and music arranging.

All of this i'm trying to do as close to canon as i can but going off of canon let's say Sam goes to Parsons for illustration because he's so good at art, he stays with Mercedes in her brownstone and they never break up, after graduating he becomes a comic book illustrator (which i believe is literally a minor at Parsons, so let's say he does a Major in Fine Art/Illustration with a Minor in Comic illustration) and illustrates a run of Young Avengers comics and becomes a fan favourite artist.

In canon, however, he loves teaching the new generation of New Directions but he misses art because he doesn't have that much time anymore (because being the teacher of the new directions is a full time job, apparently, judging by the lack of adult friends or hobbies Will has lol) he loves loves loves arranging music, however, and that becomes the type of art he does the most. He does doodle a lot during faculty meeting (also he does a music teaching certification during his first few years of coaching the nNDs) and goes all out with pumpkin carving at Halloween, and loves decorating his apartment and the choir room at Christmas. He loves doing sets for the musical (and has a lot of fun staging it too) and helps out with the decorations for Prom.

Basically Sam loves to be creative in any way he can. He loves making things, whatever they may be.

Tina: Tina writes fanfiction and draws fanart. She's a nerd 100%, she watched Supernatural, she was a SuperWhoLockian, she loves Merlin, she's loves Twilight but more ironically than, say, Mercedes, and prefers books like Morganville Vampires or PC Cast's series that I've forgotten the name of. She loves the Hunger Games and Firefly and Star Trek and Star Wars. She definately has a tumblr. She mostly writes all sorts of fanfiction and is a huge name in the Supernatural fandom. Only Sam and Blaine know about all of this becuase they found one of her Star Wars fanfictions and in an authors note she said something that they recognised - idk she ranted about Santana or Rachel or something.

This was so much fun omg, thank you for the ask Myle 💛

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myhoneststudyblr · 4 years

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every single student in the world has likely procrastinated at some point - i know i definitely have! sometimes i think it can be quite helpful because means that you don't spend every minute of every day studying... but on the other hand, it can become very hard to beat. there are so many advice posts in the community on this topic but i thought that i would share my own tips!

disclaimer: everyone studies differently and these are my personal tips. they may not work for you but they can be a good starting point

What is Procrastination?

i found this little summary of procrastinating on the internet and thought it completely covered everything that i wanted to say on this point:

Procrastination is the habit of delaying an important task, usually by focusing on less urgent, more enjoyable, and easier activities instead. It is different from laziness, which is the unwillingness to act.

Procrastination can restrict your potential and undermine your career. It can also disrupt teamwork, reduce morale, and even lead to depression and job loss. So, it's crucial to take proactive steps to prevent it.

The first step to overcoming procrastination is to recognize that you're doing it. Then, identify the reasons behind your behavior and use appropriate strategies to manage and overcome it.

- How to Stop Procrastinating by Mindtools

so what is learnt from this is that:

procrastination is not being lazy

it is avoiding tasks by doing other easier tasks

it can have negative effects

you need to proactively take steps to avoid it

first, recognise the procrastinating then use strategies to break the cycle

Conventional Tips

these are the basic tips that are some of the most well-known strategies for ending procrastination and can be some of the most important steps!

1. get organised. tidy up your desk to study space because there is nothing worse than having to work in a place that is chaotic and mess. collect the information you need for the task, for example, notes you've made or a textbook.

2. to-do lists are your friend. a lot of people (including me) really struggle with timetables for studying because it can seem really structured and there is no flexibility or real allowance for things that may crop up during the day (your food takes longer to cook, you have to unexpectedly do a task around the house, you get a really bad headache and need to take a break). in my opinion, to-do lists help solve this problem! you can clearly see the tasks that you want to get done for the day but you don't have stressful time constraints. personally, i always use todoist to keep track of everything. to-do lists also make it easier to break tasks down

3. break the task down. one of the biggest cause of procrastination is having a huge task or project ahead of you because it seems really daunting and where on earth are you even going to start? so break it down *completely*. in your to-do list, don't just write ‘german homework’, write down even task that you need to do within it and be specific: for example ‘pg. 11 ex 4a, 4b and 4c’, ‘textbook listening task on pg. 47′ and ‘250-word essay on social media in Germany’. breaking it down makes the tasks seem more attainable and when you’ve done one and you can cross it off your list, it gives you a boost to keep going

4. eliminate distractions. this is a big one. even if you do all of the above, if you are constantly being distracted by things, you aren't going to get much done. try to find a place that is quiet enough that you can focus and you feel comfortable studying in. as well as this you need to think about what to do with your phone as the likelihood is that this will be the most distracting thing. you can simply turn it off, put on do not disturb, leave it in another room or use and app like forest (that last one is what i use and i don't know where i would be without it!)

5. use incentives. finishing a task is an achievement so treat it like one! before you study, decide on something that you will give yourself as a reward for doing it. this may be watching that new episode of your favourite programme or a tasty snack!

6. set timers. don't just launch yourself into a task, because that again can make it seem daunting and feel unending. rather, set a timer for a specific time because you’ll know that you just need to focus for that specific length of time and then you can go take a break and do something nice. for timing your study sessions, you could use the Pomodoro technique

7. allow for breaks (but try to avoid long ones). you are not a machine and as much as it would be great to be able to, you cant study for hours on end without giving your mind a break from focusing. so schedule in break time for yourself, particularly for times that you know your motivation dips, and do something nice. but be very careful that you don't accidentally slip back into procrastinating habits and keep breaks short. unless you are very disciplined it is unlikely that an hour-long break will stay just an hour.

8. know how you study but don’t be afraid to mix it up. everyone studies differently and so there are going to be some study methods that work better for some than others. so try to make sure that you are studying smart and that you aren't wasting your own time cause that can be incredibly unmotivating. HOWEVER, if there is anything that I’ve learnt from online school its that doing the same task all the time, every day is mind-numbingly boring and you just want to do anything else. so try to switch up what you are doing. if you usually just type notes from the textbook, maybe try doing it in a mindmap one week, or on flashcards, maybe do some practise questions to keep your mind engaged.

9. play music. now this one really depends on the person and how you study. some people need absolute silence and that is fine, but others need something to fill the silence or maybe cover up background noise (for example if you live in a busy household). try to pick music however that is not going to distract you - the key tips for this is to pick music without lyrics. this can be classical music, video game music, or general ‘chill’ music (there are so many playlists out there for chill studying music). i personally listen to Francesco Parrino religiously while studying because he does piano covers of pop songs, so i know the songs and enjoy them but there are no lyrics that can distract me

10. stay hydrated, well-rested and not hungry. this is part of eliminating distractions because if you are thirsty, you are going to be thinking about how you want a drink; if you are tired, you are going to be thinking about how tired you are; if you are hungry, you are going to be thinking about what you want for lunch or whatever. make sure you are hydrated, well-rested and not hungry so you can focus solely on your task or work.

Unconventional Tips

these are some slightly more unusual tips that you might not have seen before but that I've nevertheless found very useful!

1. video yourself or do a timelapse. this is something that I’ve only recently done because i saw a tip on this from someone during my quarantine challenge and thought that it would be cool to do. and it really works! i did it twice once when i was typing notes and a second time when i was handwriting notes and it really made me focus on what is as doing because the video put some pressure on me to look like i was properly studying - i could take a 5-minute break in the middle of my work to mess around with my pen, I just had to keep going so it really forces you to do the work. also watching the video when i was done made me really proud cause i had visual proof of how much i completed!

2. accept that some days you are going to get very little done. this may seem a little bit odd to put on a post that is meant to avoid getting nothing done but it’s actually a very important thing to remember. sometimes you need to take days off because otherwise you are going to burnout and some days you are just not going to be in the right mindset for studying because maybe you are exhausted after a big exam, or you have a headache or you feel unwell. you just need to accept it, draw a line under it, take time for yourself, and resolve yourself to work tomorrow once you feel a bit better. there is no shame in taking time to make sure you stay healthy. if you can, try to get your quickest, easiest task done so you have some sense of accomplishment.

3. ‘churn it out and f**k off’. this was my mum’s motto when she was studying and working in academia. and she recently told it to me when i was getting stressed about all the big tasks during online school. i am a perfectionist and i always want to hand in my very best work, put 100% into everything, but honestly that is impossible. some days you just need to get stuff done and if that isn't your very best then it doesn't matter too much because at least you got it done. and once you get it done you can just forget about it.

4. ask a friend or parent to check up on you. when you are studying by yourself it can be hard to motivate yourself because you know that no ones actually going to check whether you made those votes or did the reading, so ask a friend or someone you live with to check whether you've done the work or get them to read essays. you then get an external reason to study or do your tasks because you need to show them something.

5. rephrase how you think of tasks. when you think that ‘you need to do this task’ or ‘you have to get this done’, a lot of the time this causes unneeded stress and anxiety that is not going to help you at all. also it makes it seem like you are being forced to do something and human beings generally don't act great when they are forced to do something. so try to change your language when thinking about task into one that is more forgiving such as ‘i choose to do this project so that i can go meet my friends tomorrow’ and ‘i choose to read this book now because it will help me in the lecture next week’. this is probably the most difficult strategy on this list and it will take a lot of practice (i am certainly still practising it) but in the long term, it can help you change the way in which you view studying for the better.

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i hope this was helpful and that these tips will be useful, and perhaps you've discovered some new ones! if anyone has anything to add please feel free to reply or reblog with the advice <3

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