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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 3 years

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I See You Clearly Now

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 0, babeyy. Complicated human relationships, maybe.

Word Count: 5.5k, once again, what the absolute fuck, who am I

Summary: An impromptu all nighter and a very domestic day with Sam who is- he’s a crush, right? Right?

A/N: This was basically me working through my emotions for a person in my life. I don’t-

Also, this was half because of an anonymous request I got the other day that wrote “please some sam winchester x reader but maybe an au with no creepy scary things” Here you go, hon. I’d argue complicated feelings are scarier than monsters, but whatever lights your candle :)

It’s four in the morning and she doesn’t particularly know when the decision was made to ignore the black night sky or the time, or how both Madison and her mutually agreed to it, but sleep is not close in the horizon. College life is exhausting, but this week was uneventful and slow, unmoving to the point of boredom. The beers in her fridge were staring angrily back at her, and her contacts seemed to anticipate her texts. Madison was the first choice, she hadn’t seen her in a while.

And where I go / Singing song of your affection / With rhymes to your perfection / Of you

I see you clearly now / I hold you dearly now / The sun is in my eyes (x)

Meeting arranged, hugs in hello and rosy cheeks, because her apartment is always warm, beers cracked open and drunk, and now Madison is on one of her white, comfortable lounge chairs, angrily ranting about Steve Rogers and Marvel. It’s that hour of the early morning when everything feels a bit gooey and intangible, stretched and fabricated, and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, content in defending a character she loves, warm, belly full of light alcohol and midnight-made crepes. Her cat moves loosely in the room, pointedly ignoring both humans, and Y/n’s cozy and happy to see the wild motions of her friend’s hands as she yells- the mild worry in the back of her head that she’ll find a note with a noise complaint taped on her door the next morning.

For all she cares, nothing could make this any better.

The night continues, laughter over Youtube videos and reality competition failures, repeated funny clips and belly-holding, more hurting of the cheeks from the laughter, more snacks, and she’s forgotten what that feels like in her never ending, break-neck-paced everyday life.

Time passes full of smiles and even more green cans of beer. Pyjamas are worn, sleeping bags are stretched on the floor over the fluffy grey rug, her cat seemingly having found a new enemy in the whipping of the sheets in the air. They laugh at her playing with them, until she settles on her little spot over her soft blanket. The girls stretch in their makeshift beds and they talk, texts are shot to other friends, also awake, selfies full of grins and-

“Sam says hello,” is all Madison has to say for Y/n to suddenly feel his absence in the room.

Sam. Of course.

“Gimme your phone.” Tipsy voice message with off-key singing sent. More happy smiles. A reply, a voice message of his own- “I’m glad you two are having fun. Where are you guys?”.

Y/n’s place, the reply is sent.

“Should I tell him to come by?” And Y/n has to hold her heart in steel hands to force it not to jump out of her chest and straight into her throat. Somehow, Sam always shows up when Madison calls, she thinks, a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy. Bottom lip bitten.

“Of course, if he wants to.” She hates to admit she’s excited to see him. Hates it, because she hasn’t talked to him in five months- not properly anyways- and the idea that Madison somehow is always in contact with him makes the familiar knife twist. The two had dated, sure, they’re friends now, a chemistry shared between them that’s inexplicable. It makes her wonder how two people can be so familiar with each other, how they can always be so fucking happy, bouncing off of each other, the sparks fly, people wonder why they broke up (Madison fell in love with someone else. Y/n doesn’t know how Sam reacted.)

Madison and her are friends, sure, but it seems everyone from that side of her friendships is close, but not enough to touch, so Madison never talked about it to her. Sam didn’t either. In fact Sam never even mentioned they’re dating. Sam never ever talks about his relationships. Not to her. He once told her, in that one phone call that lasted four hours until 6 in the morning, the one she can’t seem to forget, that he thinks his love life is nobody’s business. He’s vulnerable with it. Doesn’t share it ever with pretty much anyone (he’d share it with Madison, she thinks bitterly.) Sam, additionally, rarely answers her texts.

They’re in this weird limbo situation. She’d confessed her affection about a year ago, New Year’s eve and festive spirits, influenced by champagne and encouraging friends, and she’d received an “I wondered about us too, but I’m honestly in a weird place, unsure. I really enjoy your company, though, I think you’re really cool and I am very happy with how we are now. Friends.” No dice. She took it in stride. She’s fine with it. No really, she is. Over it.

Then Madison hooked up with him. That one hurt.

They’d talked about it- with Madison that is- because they’re friends, Madison had also been jealous -before Y/n’s confession, when Sam seemed sorta into her and things were going well- and had urged her to go for it. Y/n had shared the sentiment (“If you two end up doing anything, I’m fine with it, it’s really none of my business. You’ve been his friend for longer than I have.”) and she had really meant it. But then Sam didn’t want her, and he ran off in the sunset with Madison for a grand total of three months, and rotten feelings were there in every other step Y/n took.

Now though, she’s fine. Sam has a different pace than her, she knows it now, has come to terms with it. He’s such a gentle, loving creature, so caring and passionate and smart and kind, with those wonderful eyes and his soft hair and the scent that makes her weak in the knees. She’ll have him in her life if that means a single four hour phone call every six months and loose texts here and there- sent by her of course, because he rarely ever texts first for some infuriating reason, and she panics he’s gonna forget her. Other than that, she’s come to terms with the fact that they’ll always be distant friends, that she’ll admire him from afar and he’ll maybe think about her once a month.

He always seems so happy to see her, though. He’s so fucking difficult to decipher.

“He’s on his way.” Brought back to the present by Madison’s statement, Y/n sulks back in her seat, a small, excited smile crossing her features. She’s happy to see him. She missed him.

He’s making his way through the other side of town, though. He’ll be here in two hours just to see them, and her heart flutters.

Till then, Madison lays in her sleeping bag turns out the lights, Y/n’s cat stretches sleepily, and Y/n doesn’t fall asleep, anxious she won’t hear him ring her bell, won’t hear her phone or Madison’s at his call. She’s only slightly desperate.

Time has slipped to six in the morning. Y/n’s eyes are wide open, her head woozy from the fatigue and the alcohol, but, when the rug vibrates with the ring of Madison’s phone, she jumps. She jumps, and so does her heart, skips a beat, because he’s here and she hasn’t seen him since the summer and she just wants to hug him hello.

“Pst! Madison.” With a slap of her hand over her phone, Madison, in a lump on the floor, pulls the phone and balances it on the cut of her cheekbone, speaker over her ear, while her hand slumps back under the sleeping bag. Nelly- Y/n’s cat- blinks lazily, spooked by the sound of the phone call, but ultimately, not giving it much attention.

“Hm? Yeah. Mkay,” sleepy, mumbled words muttered into the phone. At least someone caught some shut-eye between them. “Bring some beers.” A small chuckle, a shake of her shoulders. “Oh yah.” Another laugh. “Hmph, buzzkill.”

Y/n is turning on a small light, just until the sun rises properly up the sky, because everything is currently a little dark still.

“Atta boy. We’re waiting for you.” Another short laugh. Madison hangs up turns on her back, and her phone falls off her face as she stretches, smiles, arms slumping over her chest. She doesn’t offer much information about the phone call. Not ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Y/n stumbles, sheets tangling on her legs, nearly tripping, to buzz him in.

He walks up the stairs, and she sees his head rise over the edge of the top step, a crooked smile on his pretty lips and she smiles back brightly. Arms raised over his head, he shows a plastic bag, clinking glass inside, and he whoops slightly. Y/n grins, throwing a victorious fist in the air.

“The feast continues!” And Sam laughs, toothy and bright as the sun. Y/n attacks him with a hug.

Warm arms stretch around her, hold her close, warm and tight, and he still smells heavenly, like he showered before he left his house. He smells like freshly cleaned clothes and vanilla scented body wash, like the seat of his car, deodorant and a deep, musky smell she can’t quite place.

My God, she’s missed him.

Madison is still on the floor of Y/n’s bedroom, mumbling her hello and burrowing a little in her sheets. Sam kneels down and hugs her, and she hugs back. “Nice to see you, dick”

“Runt,” he replies with a nod, as if he tips off his hat to her. Carefully, Sam also kneels next to Nelly, scritches under her little chin and whispers his soft greeting, to which the cat responds with a low purr and the bending of her head to give him a little more room. Sam smiles, and Y/n can feel her eyes being shaped into comically large hearts.

“M’God,” Madison groans. “I wanna stay awake but ugh.” Y/n smiles gently.

“Go back to bed. I have an appointment with my therapist in four hours though.” Madison nods numbly.

“Wake me up in three and a half, I’ll leave.” Y/n and Sam share a look and the former shrugs.

“Okay.”

Madison shifts, puts her headphones on and shuts her heavy eyelids, pretty much instantly falling asleep. Y/n is running on battery saver mode, enhanced by the incredible amount of adrenaline Sam’s presence seems to bring.

She nods for him to follow her and grabs her laptop, dumping herself on her living room couch, Sam closing the bedroom door behind himself and following her lead. He deposits most of the beers in the fridge and keeps two, which he opens. Y/n watches his ease in her kitchen, even though he’s never been here before and her heart wiggles in content.

He sits next to her on the couch, keeping a barely there distance between them, as she pushes the screen open. Despite all the feelings that have manifested in her chest over the relatively short time she’s known him, Sam and her really hit it off since day one. She met him during a surprise party thrown for Madison. Sam brought the cake, Y/n the candles and the lighter, and other friends brought alcohol, plastic plates that were never opened and cutlery.

The whole group had waited under Madison’s building, singing a very cheerful happy birthday, loudly enough for their voices to grow hoarse, and for Madison’s eyes to roll back into her skull with a sheepish smile. They had walked to a park, sat down and feasted on the cake straight from the pastry box, yet Sam was talking with Y/n on the swings a little ways to the right, away from the cheerful company, talking about fond childhood memories, about his brother, about their favourite movies. Y/n felt it, felt her heart drooping low, the familiar feeling of wanting to impress someone, to be liked by them. Even then, under whatever stars could be seen in their city, she knew he was gonna be trouble.

Beer bottle passed, and she clinks hers on his cheekily, receiving a tip of his head and a half-smile in response. Decided sips. Bottles held against bent knees as they both fold them like pretzels. Small talk about college, about recent misadventures and drunken phone calls, and soon she gets the urge to fill their time with something.

“Movie?” she asks, and Sam just seems on board.

“What do you have?”

And he ducks close to her and checks out the titles. “Do you wanna watch Hamilton? I’ve heard it’s really good.”

“YES, Sam,” enthusiastic and loud. Sam grins. They settle back on the couch.

Fifteen minutes into the play, Y/n doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t ask and doesn’t preface by saying anything. With all the naturalism that their relationship has, all the affection she knows Sam has to give, she scooches closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder, hugs his arm to her chest, and he leans into her comfortably. “This okay?” The answer she looks for comes in the form of him leaning his head down on top of hers gently.

They watch two thirds of the play before they both get increasingly tired, since it’s a three hour performance. Their brains are kinda mushed, especially because of the lack of sleep, but they happily gush about how well made it is and Sam spews facts left and right about the price of the tickets, the actors and how the British royal family has gone to see it in-person.

“God, I wish I had the money to go up to NYC and watch it myself. I’ve never been to Broadway.” She sighs under his arm, which is now placed around her shoulders. Sam nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that must be so amazing to see in person.”

Bedroom door creaking open, Sam and Y/n separate from each other slowly as they watch Madison trudge to the living room like a phantom, a hand on her lower back.

“My God, Y/n, your floor is not hospitable at all.”

“Awh, I’m sorry.” Sam laughs next to her. “I don’t know why you didn’t move to the bed, though.” Madison glares, facepalms with a wince -the movement seems to rattle the spot that’s sore somehow- and shakes her head. “I didn’t- it- it didn’t cross my mind.”

Deep chuckles in amusement all around. Madison picks her stuff up. Y/n makes all of them some coffee, which they all quietly sip in the diminishing silence of the city waking up just outside their window.

The time for Y/n’s appointment approaches rapidly, and Madison waves goodbye, kisses both people on their cheeks and drives herself home. Y/n isn’t sure if Sam will stick around, so she checks the time awkwardly. She’d feel terrible to let him make his way back to other side of town just for these wimpy three hours wasted on tiredly catching up and watching a movie.

“Listen,” she says, and Sam’s attention is drawn from his coffee cup. “I’m gonna go to my bedroom, have my appointment, because we do it over Zoom anyway. You hang around, chill, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Alright,” Sam agrees gently. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

A painful, soul-straining hour later, wiping dry tear stains off her cheeks, Y/n makes her way to the living room, half forgetting Sam is even there. And boy if he’s there.

He’s stretched on her couch, legs barely fitting as he leans on the arm rest, ankles crossed, and a book he’s picked up from her bookshelf in his hands, while Nelly sleeps peacefully in his lap, finding comfort in his warmth. He hasn’t made an intense amount of progress, probably 50 or 60 pages in, but he seems invested, and for the seconds it takes him to notice her, Y/n admires him a little. Under the morning light through her thin, sheer curtains, rays are angled perfectly to make his cheekbones all the sharper, he, comfortable enough to relax in her worn-in couch. He looks so at home, and after such an emotionally draining hour, it’s so good to see someone who’s gentle, someone so familiar, waiting for her in her personal space, with her cat, as if he belongs there. It makes her heart do all sorts of stunts.

It seems he notices her from the corner of his eye though, and he puts the book down.

“Hey,” he tells her softly. “Are you good?”

“Uh,” she thinks for a second, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.” An offered smile, small and soft.

“Alright,” as if saying I’m choosing to believe you. “Have you read this yet?” He holds up a bright orange book, a small thing titled the Alchemist by Paolo Coelho. An offered change of subject. She smiles.

“Yeah, I have.” He folds his legs with a soft apology to Nelly who jumps off disgruntled, and Y/n takes it as a sign to sit on the couch next to him. His feet rest against her thighs, knees bent still.

“It’s so…” He sighs, struggles to find the words. “I mean, it’s not something I’d usually go for. It kind of feels childish and simple, but it’s so beautiful.” He seems slightly confused, surprised to find something he thought may be silly to be actually really good.

“I know right? It feels really simplistic, but some of the stuff it says is so eye-opening.”

“Listen to this,” he says and sits a little straighter, fixing the pillow on his back a little. “We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”

It’s like he chose the quote specifically for her, for this particular moment. A look is thrown his way, and he smiles crookedly. “I, uhm…” he rubs the back of his neck. “I just heard you crying, is all.” A nervous shrug. Y/n feels exhausted, drained, but in that little smile, that warmth, she feels like tearing up all over again at how fucking sweet he is. She pushes at his legs and reaches out to him for a hug, which he welcomes. She sighs.

“Thank you, Sam.”

****

Eventually, they get up. They move to the kitchen and make grilled cheese sandwiches and tea, and Sam leans against her counter as he watches her take out plates from her cupboards, Nelly prancing around with distant meows for attention. Y/n picks large mugs, puts honey in hers and serves their half breakfast on the kitchen island. They eat under light conversation about dogs in social media and pets, and Sam sorta looks like he’s always been there, like this is the life they’ve always lived.

Hot mugs cupped in thick sleeve-covered hands. Bodies curling up on different ends of a couch. Comfortable conversation continues. Topic shifted to something more serious, and Sam tells her things, talks about how he’s grown mentally, how he understands himself a little better and how he wants to try therapy. She’s happy to see him like this, being -if only slightly- more open about himself, about how he is, not closing himself up, not fooling himself into believing he can shoulder the world alone. Y/n gives him her therapist’s phone number, tells him she’s proud of him and shares her own stories. She ruffles his hair and smiles affectionately, and Sam thanks her. Their mugs empty. Her heart grows fuller.

While moving back to the bedroom, Sam kneels next to Nelly. He offers her his hand, lets her sniff it, scritches the top of her soft little forehead, and Nelly pulls away, sniffing, wagging her tail in short annoyance. “Is that not okay? Alright, I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers to her gently, watches her lick his fingers for a second before settling back in her cat bed and watching him wearily. Sam gets the message and he pulls away, and Y/n’s never, ever seen anyone interact with her cat this way. Respectful and kind (and if that ain’t Sam, alright) and her heart lurches a bit. Of course Sam, practically the perfect guy, would test her cat’s boundaries as if she’s a human, and then never push them again. She sighs.

They end up on her bed. Sat next to each other. Laptop in front of her, heavy conversation discarded, set down for now, and she searches for her favourite stand-up comedians to show him, because she knows his sense of humour and he’s gonna love them, she’s sure. Yet, as she’s scrolling, Sam does the unspeakable, and slides behind her, one leg either side of her, arms going around her.

“ ‘M sorry, I needed a hug,” he tells her, and she curls her own arms over his, leaning back against him.

“Anytime,” she promises and means every syllable. “You can stay like that if you want,” she tells him as well, and feels his chin on her shoulder as he nods, a huffed out breath softly knocking on the bare skin of her neck. She sighs into him. Gets comfortable, pulls the laptop on her lap -can you see well?- and lets herself be entertained, relishing Sam’s laughter against her back. She smiles, because this finally feels good. She doesn’t yearn, doesn’t look for anything more. She’s ultimately incredibly happy with where they are, with all of this warm affection. There’s no butterflies, just comfort, just love and care and tired laughter that fills her mouth with honey. The sun is in her eyes.

Not ten minutes later he shifts, stretches his legs and pulls her more comfortably against him. With gentle fingers, he pushes two strands of hair behind her ear, to the side, touch so soft she barely feels it, repositions his chin on her shoulder and breathes out calmly and Y/n shivers. He holds her securely and she, well, she dares dream, dares feel what this would be like in a different context, and while there’s a little yearning this time, to remember what it’s like to want someone and to be wanted, to know what it’s like to be Sam’s, what it’s like to be held with utter security, knowledge that you’ll never be let go of, it’s not overpowering. She feels its presence, but it feels more like an old friend than a menace. She’s content. Finally. The opposing feelings seem to tame each other.

Something close to an hour passes. They make food, some creamy pasta just to hold them over until dinner. He stirs the pot while she shows him a funny video on her phone. They eat in comfortable silence, and Y/n feels the urge to tangle her legs with his under the table, but she doesn’t, terrified she’ll push him away, ruin this bubble of comfort and naturalism by taking things a step too far. What is too far, she wonders. She’ll let him take the lead, if that means he’ll continue being this physically close to her.

Sam washes the dishes. Y/n pecks his cheek in thanks. His smile is radiant.

They stretch next to each other on her bed, scroll through their texts, send silly pictures to mutual friends. The mistake she makes is when she grabs his phone and takes a really, and she means really, ugly picture. A zillion chins, pinched eyebrows, curved lips and tongue out, hands his phone back and contemplates the consequences.

“Gimme that back, you shouldn’t have that,” decided and regretful. Sam and his noodle, twelve feet long limbs hold the phone as far from her as possible and Y/n growls and laughs, stretches, tries to grab it off him. “Sam!”

“You really think I’m gonna pass this up?” he scoffs with a grin, and she yells his name, accusatory and playful.

“Give it BACK, my face is in there! Privacy infringement!” She yells. “You should know, you’re a lawyer!”

“But you willingly saved the picture in a phone that’s not yours!” Arms stretched high, laughter booming and loud, and she scrambles.

“Your word against mine!”

“You can be seen holding the phone yourself!” She growls again, tries to pull his arm down, tickles his side and he jerks and laughs. Y/n tries to throw a leg over his to hold him down, but Sam’s too quick, too strong. They fumble, thrash, tangled limbs, throat aching full of laughter, struggling and yelling useless threats.

Sam throws the phone on the rug and huffs, visibly almost done with her, like she’s an annoying but entertaining bug. He grips her hands, her left and right in his respectively, throws his leg over her waist, twists and straddles her, hands now over her head.

Heavy breaths. They pant, stare at each other, Sam shakes his head like a dog to get his hair out of his face.

“You can’t win,” he tells her with a confident smile. She narrows her eyes.

“Have you learned nothing from this friendship?” She blows a hair away from her face and looks at him smiling. “I don’t give up that easy,” coy smile, a promise, wink sent his way, and suddenly she’s thrusting up her pelvis, trying desperately to scooch up the bed with the rest of her body, but the grip on her wrists tightens, Sam barely budging. She struggles, drags her body up, fueled by pure determination and spite, wiggles fiercely and just barely manages to get on her belly, which seems like a mistake in hindsight.

Because now her hands are crossed, he’s basically got her on a choke hold with her own forearms, and she’s eagerly trying to get her knees under her, while Sam laughs loudly at grumbled comments like “What the fuck kinda core strength do you have, fucking behemoth.” The sheets get wrinkled and pulled off the edges of her mattress, her pillows get pushed to the side, to the floor, the struggle continues and her stomach and throat hurt from all the laughter, but she really can’t seem to get the upper hand, which would be obvious if someone so much as threw a look at both of them. Sam’s six feet and two full of young, sinewy muscle, a boy- a man, really- with biceps that may not be particularly thick, but the iron grip on her wrists says something else. His hands are the size of her face. Strength is not the way she should be going about this.

She twists again, barely able to get back on her back, and she pants. The asshole looks barely winded and her eyes narrow, him raising an eyebrow challengingly. What to do, what to do?

Y/n relaxes, but Sam doesn’t. She takes a breath, grins briefly up at his momentarily confused face, then yanks her hands up the bed, making him jerk down so he can keep her under his grip and-

And she kisses him.

Nothing long or particularly sexy, just a rough push of her mouth on his, and an ‘umph’ escapes him in surprise.

Sam startles, his grip loosens, and her hands are pulled free of his hold, kicking away from him and managing a small distance apart from his warm body, knees pulled up to her chest and panting fast and loud.

Okay, it seemed smart in that moment. It really did. But for a grand total of five eternally long seconds later, her heart shrinks, diminishes to ash and dust and regret. Sam’s kaleidoscopic eyes are wide, pupils blown, and he, too, is panting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, is all she can think, so much for not pushing his boundaries, not rushing his pace. How will you ever look in his eyes again?

“Too much?” And he blinks at her, clearly still processing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I- I didn’t mean-”

But then a hand cups her jaw, warm and big and gentle, pulls her face close to his, and his lips are there, pressed on hers. Y/n’s motionless for just a second- she’s dreamt of this for so long, over a year and a half, and it’s happening in the cheesiest way possible- and Sam is on his knees, weight rested on his other hand, reaching for her, he’s kissing her, and move, dammit, do something! A hand grips his wrist, and she pushes herself closer to him, a huff pushed out of Sam’s nose, and her stomach flips in so many stunning, wonderful ways.

Her legs fall to the side, she meets him half-way and kisses him and Sam follows just as fiercely, falls back on his haunches. His hands push under her shoulders, lift her up onto his lap, grab the back of her knees and pull them around his hips and Y/n goes willingly. She holds the sides of his face carefully and parts her lips, and Sam licks into them with caution, curls his strong arms around her waist and sighs into her mouth.

Y/n pulls away. So much for boundaries.

She blinks down at him. Sam’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, peering up at her then. He waits for her to say something. Fingers push his hair back gently, she nudges her nose with his and smiles.

“I win.” Earning a long, dramatic eye roll.

“I had you in a choke hold with your own arms, Y/n.” and her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. She clicks her tongue.

“Yet here we are,” she whispers, looks down at him and he shakes his head with a sigh. His eyes fall on her lips once more and he gently chews the inside of his cheek. One large paw cups the side of her head and he kisses her slowly once more before pulling away, thumbing at her cheek.

They smile.

****

The sun has descended beneath the horizon, so early it’s kind of comical, but it doesn’t feel like it’s 6 pm anyway, because neither of them has slept at all. Time has lost meaning and form the past two days, everything feels surreal and fake because of the lack of sleep, and now here they are, under warm fairy lights, laying in her bed. There’s been kisses here and there, gently roaming hands, not moving further than that, and again, Y/n doesn’t need anything more. She’s content where she is, surprised she even made it this far. The affection they’ve shared is scarcely fierce and feral, simply quiet, tender, innate. Nothing particularly passionate or aggressive, just warmth and comfort, shielded vulnerability hidden behind brief liplocks. Y/n’s more than okay with it.

She’s laying on his chest, arm around his waist and ear over his heart and they doze together under dim lighting, limbs heavy, hearts feathery light. Sam’s arm falls around her back, pulls her close. She nuzzles his chest.

It’s just so easy to be with him. Around him.

Y/n wonders where they stand after this. If he’ll text her more. If it’ll go back to the occasional long phone call, the random outings because Madison texts him while she’s with Y/n. Will they ever be like this again? How much does she care?

Because, although somewhat pivotal for her view on affection, and tenderness and friendship, ambit stretched now, definitions altered in her mind, she feels that no real barrier has broken, shifted even. They’re still friends. They’re not partners, he’s not her boyfriend and it’s honestly fine. No, really, it is. She’s genuinely okay.

Would she like to see what it’s like to date him? Of course she would. Of course she wants to know what it feels like to know he wants her and only her, wants to know she can hold his hand, can kiss him no matter where they are or with whom, without crossing invisible boundaries tentatively like she did today. Planning dates and late night movie nights and early morning beers with shared drunken kisses.

She just wishes she knew what it’s like to have free access to this sort of affection with someone, and maybe that’s the thing. Sam feels like a good someone to have that with, but at the same time, maybe it’s what he told her on New Year’s and the way he likes to be, maybe it’s the understanding that they’re really not particularly meant to be together, cosmically in love, soulmates, whatever-the-hell, but there’s no dipping of the stomach, no heart rate accelerating, no feeling of being high or drunk. Maybe Y/n just wants someone, anyone to be with, to know she can fall for, and while Sam is warm and funny and familiar and oh so wonderful, while he looks like a great candidate to be in a relationship with, while her heart flips at the possibility of having any semblance of romance in her life, of him in her house, her couch, with her books and his warm hugs, maybe he’d been right. Maybe he knew something too painful to tell her back then, when she confessed her attraction, back when things were raw and bruised and painful to the touch. Sam and her, well… they seem good in theory. They are fun, and safe, they care for one another. They share alcohol bottles easily, common interests, kindness and heeps of love to give. They make sense in a way. But- it’s just not clicking, is it?

This is just… this. Affection for the sake of affection, not romance. And that’s okay to have, more than okay, even. It’s great. It’s comforting. It’s safe, and it’s simple. They can kiss. They can hug. They can cuddle together, and brush each other’s hair away from their faces. Y/n can admire his eyes while he cleans the dishes they ate lunch in. And it can all amount to nothing, without it feeling like band-aids being ripped off bleeding wounds without a warning.

In the words of her mother, why are human relationships so god damn complicated? Why does this one have to be too?

Y/n is content to be in his arms, to philosophically discuss, and open up and talk freely. She’s content with them giggling and wrestling and kissing in between, and they can share their music and their book quotes and their love for one another. It’s just surface level affection. If not surface level, then friendship level. Why is that not enough? Maybe not all relationships have to be tipped in the romantic pink light, and maybe, just maybe that’s okay.

She gazes up at him, rests her chin on his chest, and Sam blinks his lazy, drowsy eyelids open to look down at her sweetly, offers a small and a caress of his hand on her back. And for once, Y/n is completely satisfied with just this, and nothing more.

*****

A/N 2: I reread this and it felt like I reached a conclusion to something gigantic and cosmic, but this seems so simple. I should know all this by now. *huff*

please tell me what you thought of this!

Forevers:

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @nostalgic-uncertainty @mogaruke @superseejay721517 @lady-hawkguy @thosefeelsarereal @superwholockmarauder @justiceiswater @petra-arkanian-1497 @heyitscam99 @danijimenezv @aj-reuth @unicornblood4ever @mystriee @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers @superrandomnatural @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid @novaddictx @choosemyname @live-like-a-girl @thisismysecrethappyplace @bowtomytenderaddiction @elara98azalea @lemondropirwin @emmagolden4118 @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor @paradoxical-sleep @narynechan @canwenotdothis @suicidepanda07 @blueaura

Sam Stuff:

@kymberlytorres @theboykingsamwinchester @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain @percywinchester27

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x female!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #sam fluff #spn fluff #spn sam #sam winchester #winchester fluff #sam winchester comfort #domesticity and things #basically my whole psyche in a tumblr post?#geez #i've ascended from tartarus to drop this and will be returning shortly #hope you enjoy it!

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salvejoon · 3 years

Text

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 01

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Death of minor characters, mentions of a car accident, losing a loved one, a child being orphaned, cursing, Jimin being an ass, reader being a bitch.

⇒ A/N: Hey lovelies! I’m back-ish! I’ve been working on this project for months now and I’ve finally found my muse again and so I got to writing more and more chapters for this. Please enjoy the first chapter of hopefully my first series (but not my last). xoxo

“Imo!” Your head shot up at the happy squeal and you bent down to one knee, opening your arms, almost toppling over at the force your niece ran into you.

“Oof!” Your arms closed around her and she buried her nose in your hair as her arms went around your neck, “Hello my pretty little flower.” You drew back and nuzzled her nose with yours to which she frowned.

“I’ve grown 1 inch so I’m not little anymore.”

“You’ll always be my pretty little flower, Hyejin. No matter how tall you get.” You picked her up as you stood, groaning briefly as you adjusted her on your hip, “But you are getting a little bit heavy.”

Hyejin giggled, “Appa also says I’m getting heavy. Says his back hurts.”

“That’s because your Appa is getting old.”

A hum came from the doorway and you saw Han, your brother-in-law, standing there, looking dapper in a black and white tux, his natural black hair swept back from his face, “You’re the one to talk, Y/N. You’re closer to 30 than I am.”

You rolled your eyes, “No need to remind me, Han.” You said just as your younger sister, Charlotte gently pushed Han out of the doorframe, looking a little bit frantic, “Missing something?” You asked her as she walked over to the vanity, opening several drawers.

“My watch.”

“The one laying right in front of you?”

Charlotte sighed heavily as her eyes landed upon her watch, “Thanks.”

“What would you do without me?” You smirked as she walked over to you and took Hyejin from your arms and her daughter protested with a small whine.

“Can’t I go with you, Eomma?” She asked and glanced longingly at you and her father, “I also want to go to the ball and look pretty.”

Charlotte chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Another time, baby. This is for grown-ups only.”

“Why is it always only for adults? I want to go too!” She protested loudly, crossing her arms and pouted.

You ruffled her hair, “How about you and I play dress-up tomorrow, hm? How does that sound? I’ve bought new shoes you can try.” You winked at her and Hyejin’s pout slowly vanished.

“Can I put make-up on you, Imo?”

“Sure.”

Charlotte put her down and bent down just as the doorbell rang, gently wiping her daughter’s hair back from her face, “You be good to Mrs. Shin, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yes, Eomma.”

You absentmindedly stared out the window as the limousine drove through one of the high-end districts of Seoul. Closed off ground containing High-Rise buildings towered the streets and in between, they were grand mansions.

You felt out of place here, in this part of town.

You preferred Han and Charlotte’s apartment in the more affordable part of Seoul.

“Y/N.”

You hummed at the sound of your sister’s voice.

“Promise me you’ll be nice.”

You shifted your gaze to her and raised a brow, “When am I not nice?” You asked and shook your head when Charlotte sent you a knowing look, “Oh please. Just because he’s going to be there doesn’t mean I won’t be nice.”

Han snorted, “The last time you saw each other, it ended up in the tabloids.”

You glared at him and tch’ed, “Your brother called me - me - a prude, and I simply wanted him to teach him some manners.”

“You don’t teach someone manners by threatening them, Y/N.” Came the rational voice of Charlotte.

This time you snorted and rolled your eyes, “Wow, you two really take his side.”

“We are not but you two should bury that hatchet, whatever it is. He is actually nice once you get to know him.”

“He’s a conceited asshole that needs to be beaten down a peg or ten. There is nothing nice about him.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was once a time where you would have taken in the beautiful surroundings of the ballroom with all it’s marble and gold, tall doors, and crystal chandeliers and would have felt like a princess.

But this wasn’t your first rodeo at a gathering such as this nor would it be your last.

You hated them now. Well, not hated but found them so superficial because all it was was rich people prancing around with their noses in the air while they had a pissing contest of who had the most money, the fastest car, the grandest of mansions, or the youngest wife.

“Smile.” Charlotte noted as she sat down next to you, followed by Han who had finally managed to break free of one of the old ladies' claws, no doubt talking about finances.

You plastered on a fake smile but said smile quickly vanished when you spotted a familiar face approaching the table.

You tried to hide your scowl as the man came up to the table, dressed in a burgundy-colored suit that cost more than what you earned in a year, his ears adorned with silver dangling earrings with matching diamond rings on his fingers. The last time you had seen him, he’d donned blonde hair but now it was gray and it was swept back neatly, showing off his face.

And he had a new chick on his arm.

No surprise there.

Park Jimin was one of the biggest fuckboys you knew, if not the biggest.

He dragged his eyes from his date to you and a knowing smirk spread on his lips when he saw your scowl. No doubt he was already planning various ways to piss you off.

“Jimin. Nice of you to show up…” Charlotte glanced at her wristwatch, “20 minutes later than we agreed upon but it’s better than an hour like last time.”

Jimin removed his eyes from you and looked at your sister with an innocent smile, “I apologize, Charlotte. Things dragged out at the board meeting.” The woman on his arm tugged at it, “And may I introduce Jisoo. My date.”

Han bowed his head and your sister smiled sweetly at her and you… Well, you ignored them.

That was until Charlotte jabbed you in the ribs, “Ow! Hi, whatever.” You grumbled, glaring at her before meeting Jisoo’s smiling face and forced your lips upwards.

“As formal as ever, Y/N.” Jimin drawled before sitting down across from you, his smirk back on his lips, “Where is your date?”

“I came alone.” You answered stiffly.

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, “As usual.”

Arrogant asshole.

“At least I’m not fucking my way through the female population of Seoul.”

Jisoo opened her mouth to object but a tap on the mic shut all of you up and you just aimed a glare at him. He met you with one of his own. The tension rose at the table and you heard your brother-in-law sigh softly.

“It’s going to be a long evening.” You heard him murmur.

The hours dragged on and so far you’d listened to four long speeches, three performances by some musicians you had never heard of, and had Charlotte remind you of your promise ten times.

You found yourself sitting alone at the table, date-less while your sister was out dancing with Han and Jimin had vanished.

Probably aiming the money-shot between his date’s breasts.

The image of that left a bad taste in your mouth, so you focused on the dancing people on the floor.

You could easily find a willing dance partner. There were loads of young bachelors at such an event like this but they were so boring to you. You didn’t care about numbers, board meetings, or future merges. Charlotte had given up trying to set you up long ago since you scared most of them away.

You deemed your independence a part of your charm. Charlotte didn’t agree.

The ironic part was that the only man here, that could keep up with you, was an arrogant dickwad with a stick so far up his ass, he could pick his teeth with it.

And he was probably fucking his date at the toilet. There you go again with those thoughts.

“Ugh.” You shuddered and willed the images away as you picked up your wine glass and took a sip. The best thing about these events was the free booze.

Too bad you weren’t allowed to get hammered because the last time you got shitfaced, you had dragged Jimin by his collar, trying to get him outside so you could ‘rearrange that stick’. The tabloids had a field day with that instance. It hadn’t been the first time you had threatened to kick his ass and you doubted it would be the last.

Jimin just knew how to push the right buttons.

“No one has asked you for a dance yet?”

Your left eye twitched in annoyance, “No. Not yet. Are you offering?” You asked as you looked at Jimin with a raised brow.

“No. I prefer my dance partners to be more… graceful. I don’t like getting stepped on.”

“But I can be graceful, Jimin.”

“Oh? When?” He asked as he sat down in the chair and crossed his legs.

“When I step on your throat, choking the life out of you.”

“Kinky, Y/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

You scoffed and leaned back in your chair, “Where’s your date? Recovering from having your filthy hands on her body?”

“And if she is?”

“Then tell her I know a therapist.”

Jimin threw you a glare, one you returned with an unimpressed, bored look, “She’s in the restroom.”

“Trying to wash away her sins, no doubt.”

“Are you jealous, Y/N? You seem oddly fixated on my sexual interactions.”

You picked up your wine glass and shrugged, “For me to be jealous, Jimin, it would require I had some sort of feelings for you, which I do not other than absolute disgust.” You downed the rest of the wine that was in the glass, deciding you were done entertaining him, “And I’d undoubtedly get more satisfaction by watching old men dance with their young wives than having sex with you.” With that you rose from the table. You flicked a strand of hair over your shoulder as you put your bag on the table, “Now be a good boy and look after my belongings.”

“Where are you going?” He asked stiffly.

“To dance, of course. Might step on a toe or two but what the hell.”

Your escape from the table hadn’t gone as smoothly as you had hoped because Charlotte and Han were nowhere to be found, the men that had approached you were either 60 and above and the bartender hadn’t seemed particularly keen on entertaining you with small talk. So you opted to venture outside instead.

The air was chilly and you shivered a little, rubbing your arms to regain some heat as you looked up. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled while the moon showered the ground in it’s white glow. It was a pretty evening, really. You had the sudden urge to just lay down on the grass and stargaze.

You felt something heavy being draped over your shoulders and you turned around to see a pair of dimples and a bright smile.

You knew those dimples.

And that smile.

Those kind, warm, honeyed eyes.

Your heart sped up.

Before you could open your mouth to greet him, Namjoon booped your nose, “Thought I saw you dash outside. Are you avoiding me?”

You shoved his shoulder, albeit gently with a smile on your lips, “Duh. Of course, I am avoiding you.”

He frowned, “The sex can’t have been that bad.” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes, “It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.”

“You really know how to hurt a man's pride, Y/N.” He chuckled and enveloped you in a tight hug, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Joonie. I haven’t seen you in, what, 3 months?” You drew back, “I didn’t know you were attending the fundraiser.”

Namjoon kept his arms around your waist as he sheepishly smiled down at you, “I wasn’t planning on attending since I am so busy lately but when Han told me you’d be here, I had to come.”

“Aw, my little Joonie bug.”

He let go of you and you stepped back, “So how is the partnership coming along?” You asked, standing next to him, “Charlotte told me you’ve been super duper uber busy.”

He sighed, “I have been so fucking busy and work has just been taking up all of my time and I am so tired of it.”

“Oh, Joonie.”

“But I can now call myself partner and a board member of Kim & Co Lawyers.”

You squealed, your arms finding purchase around his neck as you jumped up and down of excitement, “OH MY GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!”

Big hand engulfed your face and squished, “Thank you but calm down, sprout. No reason to entertain the whole neighborhood.”

“Buf u gos te parfership.”

“Yes.”

“lso yo ar ruinf te makuf.”

“I am fully aware of that, sprout.”

“Le gof.”

He chuckled and let go of your face, placing his hands on your shoulders instead, “Thank you. But how are you? Charlotte told me you’d be expanding the brand soon.”

You grinned and nodded, “Yes! I am so excited but at the same time also a little sad. That shop has been my bread and butter for 4 years now but it was about time I listened to my sister and expanded… With the help of some investors, of course.”

“Well, I am looking forward to seeing you take over the world, Y/N.”

You snorted and grabbed his hand, “Pfft, I think I’ll just deal with getting my designs on the interwebz first and see how that goes. Now let’s go get some wine and talk shit about other people.”

“There you are!” You and Namjoon halted your conversation as Charlotte appeared between you, “We’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sis.”

She glared but there was a teasing glint in her eyes, “Joonie has a habit of stealing your time.”

“I’m like the most important man in her life, what did you expect?” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Charlotte bumped his shoulder, “Not in the way you want, woman.”

Your sister huffed and shook her head, “What do I have to pay you to marry Y/N? Seriously, you’re like the only guy that can keep up with her shit and not want to run away.”

“Who says I don’t want to run away?”

You slapped his arm that was draped over the bar counter, “Fuck you. You love me.”

“I do but not enough to get my dick wet.”

“That monster you call a dick wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“Thank you, I guess, for calling it a monster, Y/N, but I would have made it fit. Preparation is key.”

“That’s what I keep saying. Foreplay is an important part of-”

“Alright, I clearly interrupted something here so I would just like to give you the heads up and Han and I are going home.” Charlotte interrupted you and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, “He’s drunk and I was getting tired anyway.”

“Sure. I’ll see you back home.” You said, wiping at your cheek before turning it towards Namjoon, “Do I have a stain?”

He shook his head before accepting a peck on his cheek from Charlotte, “Nope. Looking smooth as always.”

“You make sure she gets home safely, Joonie.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“And not too late, okay?”

“Bye Charlotte! Love you!” You called as she wandered off, dragging a swaying Han with her towards the entrance.

Jimin sat at the table, Jisoo at his side. He had tuned most of her blabbering out, finding the topic ‘what shoes to wear to her friend’s wedding’ quite boring. Instead, his eyes were trained on the dance floor where not many people were dancing.

More specifically you and Namjoon that was talking more than dancing and he saw you smile, laughing at how your dance partner seemed to trip over his own feet.

He scoffed.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying, baby?”

“Of course, Jisoo. The red pair of shoes sounds good.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, eyes narrowing at the number, he swiped his thumb across the screen.

“Yes?” He said.

“Jimin, hey, it’s Seokjin.”

“I could see on the caller-id.”

There was a brief pause and Jimin held up a hand to silence Jisoo when she yanked at his arm. Then there was a beeping sound and the sound of doors being banged open, “Jin, what’s going on?”

“Sorry about that… I don’t know how to say this but you need to come to the hospital.”

“Why?”

“It’s your brother. Jimin, you need to come and quick.”

His throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he stood up and hung up, eyes darting to your dancing and laughing form on the dancefloor.

“Jimin, baby, where are you going?” Jisoo asked him as he took a step, her hands clinging onto his wrist.

“S-Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.” He answered, his voice shaky, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you home.”

“Wait!” She called out as he ran towards you.

You were laughing so hard at how Namjoon had just tripped over his own two feet again when Jimin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist, “What the fuck?”

“Fun time is over.” Jimin said and tugged you with him as he headed towards the exit.

You yanked your wrist free, Namjoon appearing at your side, “Um no, it isn’t. What’s with you?” You asked him.

Jimin looked at you and Namjoon, “Y/N.” You raised a brow at the tone of his voice… He sounded scared, “We have to go now.”

“Did something happen?” You immediately grew worried because Jimin never sounded scared.

“Seokjin just called me and… Something happened with Han and Charlotte.”

You had never felt such fear.

The ride to the hospital was tense and quiet. Jimin drove like a maniac through the streets of Seoul while Namjoon had tagged along as support. The two men sat in the front of the car, exchanging no words whatsoever, leaving you to your thoughts running rampant.

Then you arrived at the hospital and everything happened so quickly.

A drunk driver collided with their limousine.

Their driver was killed on impact.

Charlotte and Han were in critical condition.

You had no idea how much time had passed from when you had arrived to when you were sitting on the chair outside the ward, Jimin prancing back and forth like a caged animal.

Then the doctor appeared from the ward and Namjoon was quick to leave your side, going to talk to him.

You stood up, watching as they talked and you felt Jimin’s presence next to you.

Time seemed to slow down when your eyes locked with Namjoon’s, the sadness in his eyes conveying the message you had yet to receive but you knew.

They were gone.

You could feel someone wrap their arms around you as you tumbled to the floor, your own piercing wail deaf to your ears as you felt your chest implode on itself with heartbreak.

Jimin struggled to keep you upright as you collapsed, your cries so very loud in his ears but it didn’t matter. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to hear why you had broken down. It was clear as day by the way Namjoon looked.

His brother was gone. Your sister was gone. Both of them were gone.

You cried out her name and Jimin tightened his hold on you when you tried to crawl away from him.

He might not like you and you may not like him but he knew that you should not go through this pain alone. So when you clutched his shirt so tightly in your balled fists, your cries finally lowering to whimpering and you buried your head in his chest, Jimin held you tight.

The feeling of time was lost on you when you entered Han and Charlotte’s apartment. Your mind was empty and you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating.

Mrs. Shin appeared as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on a small table. She looked puzzled upon seeing you, and only you, return.

“Where is…” She trailed off as you grabbed her hand.

“They’re gone.” Was all you said and her shoulders sagged as she moved her free hand to cover her mouth, “Is she sleeping?”

“She is.”

You nodded and walked past her, down the hall, towards Hyejin’s room. The door was slightly ajar and you slowly opened it, finding her room dark except for a small lamp in the corner.

She hated the dark.

Like Charlotte.

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the thought of your sister but willed them away. You had to be strong now for Hyejin.

Nothing else mattered.

Hyejin woke up when her mattress shifted and she turned her head, rubbing one eye, “Eomma?”

“No, honey. It’s me.”

She sat up, looking puzzled, “Where’s Eomma? She always comes to kiss me goodnight.”

You opened your arms and closed them around her tiny frame, “I know.” You placed your head upon hers and took a deep breath, “Listen, sweetie…”

#jimin x reader #jimin x fem!reader #jimin angst #oml its here

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equalseleventhirds · 4 years

Text

quick disclaimer before fic: this is not meant to excuse or absolve melanie and georgie of outing jon; what they did was wrong and they should not have done it. instead it is an... examination of a character who is Maybe working some things out but, due to Internalized Issues, is harshly rejecting it both for herself and other people. (i’m aware i wrote something with the exact same FUCKING premise back when i was in the sh*rl*ck fandom dear god don’t read that linked fic it is from a deeply shameful time of fandom i only linked it as proof i did the same thing before. almost like i’m still working through the same stuff via writing fanfiction. hm.) (further discussion on THAT in post-fic notes; i wanted to keep it under the cut for personal reasons.)

furthermore: warning for discussion of sex (but not explicit depictions of sex), characters experiencing aphobia both internalized and not, mention of sexism wrt jobs, characters outing other characters without their consent (more than once, and more than just jon), and mention of consensual but unwanted sex (as in, consent was given, but the consenter did not enjoy it, and consented due to expectations).

- - -

It starts with: “I don’t, I, I usually can’t—Lately. I mean. Lately I can’t.” Melanie shuts her eyes so she won’t have to see Georgie, her hand on the sheets, judgment questions in her eyes. “Since I got—shot. It’s more difficult, is all.”

“Melanie—”

“You can still try,” she says, the words falling too fast, too panicked. “If you want, sometimes other people—and it’s fine! I’m always, it’s fine to try. Sometimes I do. I just might not. You know.”

“You might not orgasm,” Georgie finishes for her. It’s hard to tell how she’s feeling about it—until her fingers brush Melanie’s chin, turning her face up.

Reluctantly, Melanie opens her eyes, and then she’s glad she did. Because Georgie’s smiling, not a mocking smile, gentle. And they said this was just, just casual, just between friends (there’s too much going on with ghosts and the Institute and Georgie’s ex sleeping on her couch when he isn’t being kidnapped for it to be more than that), but Melanie’s glad Georgie is smiling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Georgie says. She’s sitting up now, not lying almost-not-quite between Melanie’s legs anymore. She looks gorgeous, naked and cross-legged on that horrible mattress with a microfiber sheet wrapped around her shoulders, and Melanie wants to curl up in the sheet with her and eat the leftover pizza from earlier and fall asleep together with grease on their hands.

No. Focus. “It’s okay,” Georgie says again, gentler. “If you can’t right now. If you don’t want to. You certainly gave me a lovely orgasm—”

“—or three—”

“—yes, thank you, and if you’d rather just call it there, I’m not pushing it. As long as you enjoyed yourself.” She frowns, suddenly, glancing down at Melanie’s hands. “You… did enjoy yourself? I hope we didn’t—”

“I did!” She always does, when it’s other people coming, when she gets to be touching warm skin and watching someone fall apart. It’s… nice. “It’s just, you know. I got shot.”

(And isn’t that a convenient excuse, she sneers in her own head, and it sounds like Toni refusing to come back to the team, it sounds like the most sarcastic videos about her breakdown, it sounds like Elias. Isn’t it convenient that now you can blame your little problem on blood flow, or nerve endings, or stress. Never mind that you didn’t have those excuses a year ago. Or two years. Or back when you had a real girlfriend, and you always said yes but she got tired before—)

Georgie tucks a strand of hair behind Melanie’s ear. “Okay, good. If we, you know, try this again sometime? If you’re feeling better? Then I can try.” She stops, licks her lips, watches Melanie’s expression. “Or I can… not try, if you’d still prefer that. Later. You know. If.”

“I’m not—” And she’s rushing again, always rushing, she doesn’t even know if she and Georgie will ever—

“No, I know! It’s fine! But like—Look, this isn’t exactly new for me, you know? If that’s something you want. Something you don’t want. Or I, I’m saying it’s not a problem, if you do or don’t want me to make you come in the future, or even if you don’t want to have sex at all, I mean, when we were dating Jon didn’t—”

That’s where Georgie stops, as if talking about Jon is too much, as if she hasn’t been speaking Melanie’s secret insecurities out loud in bed like it’s something they can talk about, as if all of this hasn’t already been too much and too terrifying already.

Melanie stands up, grabs the comforter as a makeshift cloak (because Georgie has the sheet, and suddenly she isn’t sure she wants to share the sheet with her). “Right.”

“I’m just—I have a friend. Who you might talk to, if you wanted to talk about this.”

She steps away from the bed, towards the door. “Sure. Pizza? I’m hungry.”

The problem is, Melanie doesn’t much like Jon. He was such a dick about the Youtube thing, and about her statement, and about Sasha. And even though she knows (sort of) that part of it hadn’t been his fault, she still isn’t going to talk over her disinterest in sex with him. It’s mortifying. Even if he wasn’t her boss. And Georgie’s ex. And currently out of the Archives, anyway.

But she wants to talk to somebody, about Georgie’s words running around and around and around her head, about the sheer panic mixing with almost-relief and then the visceral no no no churning low in her stomach that had made it a struggle just to choke down her pizza. She wants to ask someone is this normal, am I allowed, is it even enough to be halfway to ‘not at all’ or should I just suck it up. She wants to talk that out desperately.

It’s just… she doesn’t have many friends left, after her whole fall from Youtube ghost hunter grace. She’s not going to ask Georgie about it, any more than Jon, although for pretty much the opposite reason. Who’s left? Her shiny new coworkers? Tim, who seethes and hates everything and everyone in the Archives? Martin, who’s still upset that Jon so much as spoke to her while he was on the run? Basira?

When Melanie met Sasha—the real Sasha, the one apparently no one but her even remembers—she’d been the only woman in the Archives. And Melanie had chatted with her about haunted pubs, and maximizing SEO, and how to talk to people who’d seen a white dog while they were drunk and thought it was a ghost. And about their jobs, of course, which led to both of them scoffing about the sexist bullshit of academia and how someone like Sasha could be just an assistant and the only woman on her team.

And then Elias hired Melanie to replace… the thing that replaced Sasha. Hired another woman to replace the only woman. You learn to see patterns from the kind of person who might say diversity the same way as toilet plunger: something necessary, but distasteful. Melanie was filling a role he needed filled, and she could live with that.

And then Basira.

Who wasn’t there because she wanted to be, of course, but was still there. Was still another woman in the boy’s club of terror they’d apparently signed on for. Could maybe, maybe, be someone Melanie could connect with. Someone she could talk to.

Maybe.

“Do you know if he and Jon ever…?”

“No clue, and not interested!” She’s laughing, about to just dismiss it out of hand, but… maybe. She can feel the questions she never asked Georgie, the words sharpening their claws on the edges of her mind. The no, not me, not allowed sinking in her gut.

“Although…” Make it light. Make it interesting. Make it about someone else. How to hook an audience without having a public breakdown and becoming a— “According to Georgie, Jon… doesn’t.”

It feels wrong as soon as she says it. Like she’s dirty. Like she’s lying. Like a thousand eyes are looking at her, watching her, waiting for more. Make it a story. Engage your audience. Like it’s 2013 in a convention hotel room and Pete just told everyone Don’t worry, Mel likes girls actually, and even though they were all fine about it that moment of sharpshock terror in her throat as they all looked—

“Like, at all?”

The one thing she never learned was how to stop talking. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, that does explain some stuff.”

And that’s… it, really. That does explain some stuff. Jon is a dick, has always been a dick, overfocused on work and not on other people, and that does explain some stuff. Right. Yes. Like her last girlfriend had told her, about all you do is work, I can’t even get you off. An explanation, just like she always knew it would be.

It doesn’t really matter. She has a boss to go kill.

“I think,” she says, slow, like every word is being dragged out of her, “that I might not like. Sex. As much as, you know, people do.”

“You’re a person,” her therapist says, firm, and she has to bite back a sarcastic laugh.

“Right. ‘Course.”

- - -

post-fic notes: i myself personally have previously identified as: heteroromantic gray-ace, heteroromantic ace, aroace, aro gray-ace, aro bi, bi, arospec bi, aro bi again, and aro bi but sex ambivalent. part of that has been natural progression and change; part of that was bcos some people i considered friends got very into aphobic discourse, and i internalized a lot of what they said. in recent months i have been examining my sex ambivalence (sometimes repulsion) and considering what that means about whether or not i am on the ace spectrum. i’m still thinking about these things. i’m still, deep down inside, afraid of the aphobic people i respected and cared about hearing about this.

in part i wrote this to work through some of My Own Shit regarding this. in part i wrote this bcos i will get my grubby little aspec hands (bcos regardless of anything else, i am aspec, whether that’s ace or aro) on every character i can. yes, even the ones who did an objectively shitty thing to jon, the one canonical ace character. bcos sometimes people (like me) internalize things and make mistakes.

#absolutely not beta'd or britpicked or even edited much #i needed to get this out and now it's late but i'm WORKING THROUGH SOME STUFF #uhhhh ambiguous ending about melanie's like! decisions! identity! feelings!#ambiguous if she or georgie EVER talk to JON #nothing is resolved! nothing is fucking good and light and happy! it's all MESSY #it's also so long i'm so sorry but melanie spent a lot of time looking at georgie and then a lot in emotional turmoil so like #what can ya do.#anyway. fuck it. posting a thing.#fanfiction #algie writes things #the magnus archives #hopefully i have rambled long enough this doesn't get maintagged sry if it does ignore me i needed this for ME #and i guess like. i do want other ppl to read it. but i do not want to maintag it. u kno how it is.#NOW WITH EDITING

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s A Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 12th, 1998

There wasn’t anything hugely important about it. It wasn’t Remy’s birthday, or Christmas, or any other holiday. It was just a regular day, and that was what made this so special. Toby had come home from school with a tiny recipe book which he had given to Remy. “Obviously, that’s not the end-all be-all of recipe books, but it’s something to start you off so you’re not stuck with ramen every time Mom makes you cook your own lunch or dinner.”

Remy looked at the book in his hands almost reverently, and grinned. “Thanks, Tobes!” he exclaimed. “This looks like it’ll be a huge help! Making ramen is kinda relaxing, but it does get old after a while. This will help a lot.”

Toby gave him a smile and a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you like it. Now, I gotta scram and figure out how to explain to Mom why I need a ride to my girlfriend’s house, but I hope that sometime soon we could try a recipe in there together.”

Remy was touched. “Yeah, I’d love that,” he said.

September 11th, 2001

It started with a ripple but soon tore into the entire coffee shop. They had seen it on the news, gotten a call from someone who knew someone who was involved. The Twin Towers were going down in flames. The Pentagon had been attacked. Everyone was bustling around, talking about it, trying to call loved ones to make sure they were all right, trying to get their coffee fast so they could pick up their kids from school and hug them tight and never let go. Remy’s head was reeling as he heard the news. He didn’t live near New York City, and Washington DC wasn’t a hop skip and a jump away, but it was still startling to hear about.

Startling was an understatement, but Remy didn’t have the words to describe what he felt. He scratched the back of his neck as he continued working on his shift. He had a job to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. He worked and worked, making coffee after coffee and passing out pastries as needed, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep well tonight.

At the end of his shift, Remy had just hung up his apron and Emile walked in, looking dazed. He took one look at Remy and pulled him in for a tight hug, which Remy desperately returned. “You heard the news?” Emile asked.

“Yeah. Obviously, you did too,” Remy said.

“Mhm,” Emile confirmed, voice sounding small, and scared, and uncertain, and that terrified Remy to no end.

They broke apart and Remy said, “Let’s just go home.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed.

They got in Emile’s car, but Emile wasn’t starting it. Remy looked at him. “Emile? You okay?”

Emile stared at his lap and shook his head. “This has me thinking...” he started, but stopped. “I just want...” Another beat. “I don’t want to miss my chance with you.”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked, heart starting to beat harder.

“I mean...I mean life is short, and we never know when it’s going to end. I don’t want to land in an early grave without telling you that I love you,” Emile said. “Because I do. I do love you, Rem, more than words can say. That’s why I fought back so hard when you said what you did. It hurt more coming from you than anyone else. I don’t...I don’t want to live without you, Rem. I want you by my side. And as more than a friend. I want...I want to love you for the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be. And I know commitment is scary, but...there’s no one else I’d rather commit to.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock. “You’re saying that you’d, like, marry me?” he asked.

“Hypothetically. One day. If you wanted. Not right now, obviously, I’m not proposing, but...I want to be your boyfriend, with the option of maybe, one day, being your husband,” Emile said. He turned pink. “Is that weird?”

Remy leaned over and kissed Emile softly, but with every ounce of adoration and desperation he felt combined. Emile kissed back, placing a hand at the nape of Remy’s neck. When they pulled apart, Emile lightly squeezed the back of Remy’s neck. “I take it that’s a yes, then,” Emile said.

“Definitely. Yes,” Remy agreed. “I really want to be with you, too.”

Emile offered Remy a shy smile and they finally drove home. Remy squirmed where he sat, clearing his throat. “Kim was going to be moving her practice the week after this one,” he said. “I’m not sure if she’ll be doing that anymore.”

“Well, we can always find someone else in the area,” Emile offered.

Remy shook his head. “No offence, Emile, but I think I’ve made all the progress that I can make. At least, right now, you know? I know not to dump everything on you, and I have coping strategies for when the uh...the flashbacks pop up, and I know how to be a little more open-minded to other people’s experiences. I don’t want to rehash everything with an entirely new therapist, when I don’t exactly need one, you know? Other people need that time more than I do, and besides, I think I’m mostly well adjusted other than a few...uh...hiccups.”

“Obviously, I can’t force you to go to therapy,” Emile said reluctantly. “And we’re not in a position where if you don’t go I risk seriously hurting myself helping you. But I do wish you’d reconsider.”

“I know you do,” Remy said. “And I get it, really. But when it comes down to it, I’m just...I know I’ve said it before...but I don’t need a therapist, Emile. I don’t think I’m cured, but I do think that I’ve processed everything that can be processed at this point in time.”

“Therapy isn’t just for processing trauma, it can help you with the little things, too,” Emile pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but what little things are there, other than our occasional fight and my occasional stress over work? Those don’t happen often, like I said, and other people need that time more than I do,” Remy said.

“I don’t want to start an argument,” Emile said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I just request that you keep it in the back of your mind. Sound good?”

Remy nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“You’re going to forget this conversation even happened by tomorrow, aren’t you?” Emile asked knowingly.

“Probably,” Remy agreed. “Anything I don’t want to address I just bite the bullet if I have to or else I ignore it until it goes away.”

“That’s not very healthy,” Emile said, voice pitched just a little too high to be normal.

“You can’t exactly stop me,” Remy sang at the same pitch.

“I know,” Emile sighed. “And I try to not let it get to me, but sometimes you really do worry me, Rem.”

“I know,” Remy said softly. “And I appreciate the fact that you care. But I can handle a lot of things well on my own, remember?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Although that stomach flu you had last week was not one of those things.”

Remy pulled a face. “Tell me about it. I’m just glad I got a clean bill of health on Friday. We need the money for rent.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that money is tight, please,” Emile groaned. “I’m stressed enough.”

“Today is a stressful day,” Remy replied simply.

An awkward silence hung over them as they stepped into the apartment and put their things away. Emile came out of his room around the same time Remy did, and they looked at each other uncertainly. “We already know what’s going to happen if we turn on the TV, don’t we?” Emile asked.

“Unfortunately,” Remy sighed.

The silence took over again. Emile cleared his throat. “Want to drown our sorrows in cartoons?”

Another long pause. “...Sure, why not.”

Emile grabbed some movie or another, Remy wasn’t really paying attention, and he settled on the floor seeing as how they had yet to get a TV stand and therefore buying chairs wouldn’t help them whatsoever. Emile put the movie in and settled next to Remy. Remy scooted closer. Emile looked over at him curiously. Remy took Emile’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, nuzzling into Emile’s side. “You’re just a giant cat,” Emile said with a fond smile.

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile and Emile laughed. “You even do the tongue thing! You’re a cat!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remy said, but he was smiling and nuzzling further into Emile.

Emile laughed softly and pressed a kiss into Remy’s hair. “Shh, the movie is starting,” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes and rested his head on Emile’s shoulder, feeling thoroughly exhausted. This was why he was letting Emile putting on some movies and cartoons for them both. He didn’t have the mental energy or the will to watch normal TV, his brain wouldn’t comprehend words on the page like they normally would when reading a book, and he hadn’t slept soundly since Emile and him had broken up. Even when he was sick with a stomach flu, his sleep would be interrupted by vomiting or fever or chills. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a month, so having cartoons on to watch if he could even stay awake made things simpler. Easier to follow. Low-stakes games that didn’t feel rushed or forced. It was dumb, but it was comforting.

Well, no, it wasn’t dumb, purely because it was comforting. It was why Remy reread his favorite comics, why he reread books when he knew the ending. Everything turned out all right in the end; he didn’t have to worry about the characters dying an unforeseen death or really going through anything he couldn’t handle, because he had been through it all already. He knew what was going to happen. And Emile derived similar comfort from cartoons.

...Huh. That explained a lot. And also made Remy feel a bit like a dick for not understanding that for a year.

Emile shifted underneath Remy and Remy opened his eyes. When had he closed them? “Hey, sleepyhead,” Emile lightly teased. “I need to pee. You mind?”

“Hm? Mm-mm,” Remy hummed, sitting upright.

Emile put a hand on Remy’s shoulder and offered him a smile, a murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and a gentle squeeze.

Remy watched Emile go and leaned back against the wall. He looked at the TV, which had been turned off. Apparently, he had slept through the entire movie. Whoops.

Emile walked back over to him and leaned against the wall. “Do you want to head to the shelter to help out tonight?”

“Wouldn’t we miss dinner?” Remy asked.

“There’s ways to help out other than cooking. Childcare, helping people with paperwork for food stamps and such, or even helping with finances, either the shelter’s or the individual people there,” Emile said. “Usually the childcare dies down after dinner, but when the kids’ parents have to talk about something serious, someone has to keep the kids occupied. And besides, we might not get there before dinner wraps up, but it never hurts to just talk to Bernie and see what he might need help with in the future.”

“True,” Remy allowed, stretching his legs. “I’m just not full of energy at the moment.”

“Yeah, but that’s why we should go. Most people won’t, and they might not help today, when lots of people will need help.”

“I know,” Remy agreed, standing. “We’d better get going if we want to be there soon, though.”

Emile offered Remy a thankful smile and Remy offered him a hopeful one back. They had been on good terms again, falling back into their old routine like nothing had happened. Though Remy couldn’t deny there was a certain shift in the dynamics since their fight. As he grabbed his jacket, he wondered if it was just what had happened today that made Emile behave differently, or if this would stay. The fact that they resumed dating would definitely remain, but Remy found he liked this new feeling. It wasn’t like they weren’t equals in their relationship before, but something seemed a little different about today. They seemed like...partners.

Obviously, they had been partners before. That was how relationships worked. But more than the sense of partners in crime. More than the sense of passionate declarations of love, or simple lingering touches on each other’s bodies when they wanted to discreetly show affection. This partnership felt like it would last through fights, through trouble, through any and everything. Even through a break up. Remy felt like this partnership wasn’t just something between him and Emile romantically. If he inspected it closely, he was a little surprised to find that it ran deeper than romance, deeper than platonic love. This was a bond he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t a familial bond, but it felt similar. Like he and Emile had somehow always known each other and never wanted to be without each other in their lives. It was cliché, but Remy could have sworn that...this was what soulmates should have felt like.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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stachmousworld · 4 years

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Barnes Family

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x POC! female character

Summary: Bucky has been de-aged by a witch. To help him cope with his new temporary condition they all go to the beach. Of course, Bucky will do as it pleases him and go on an adventure on his own. Steve, who is his babysitter, will need a good week of rest after that.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“So, how are you?” Sam asked Steve after throwing a frisbee at Clint.

“Tired. I knew it’d be hard on him, but this much…”

Sam offered a compassionate smile.

“Who’d thought a tiny body could be that loud.”

Steve winced as he remembered Bucky’s breakdown. His face had become so red and his whole body so tensed that he’d though Bucky was having a stroke. It had taken them 8 milk bottles, a warm bath and another 20 hours for him to completely calm down and sleep. Let’s just say that Steve had missed, albeit briefly, his moment spent under the ice.

Hearing his best friend piercing his tampons with his shrill voice had not been a walk in the park. Above all when Steve knew that if Bucky hadn’t protected him, he’d be the toddler.

“Yeah, who’d think,” Steve repeated.

“And about our baby Avengers, where’s he now?”

Steve frowned not understanding the question.

“He is sleeping,” he replied slowly.

The frisbee almost hit Steve who caught it effortlessly. Clint screamed an apology.

“Dude, I don’t want to be that guy, but Bucky is not there.”

Steve turned to the cot next to him and froze, fear running through his veins.

Empty.

The cot was empty.

Steve jumped to his feet and looked around wildly. His eidetic memory couldn’t really help as many people were leaving and arriving. He ignored the weird and suspicious or even recognizing glances from the tourists. Sam screamed at Clint to come and look for Bucky. Ensued a few screams because Clint had lost his hearing aids and couldn’t understand. Or maybe it was the two twin sisters ogling him that perturbated him.

After what felt like an eternity, Steve spotted Bucky’s small body wobbling his way to…Steve narrowed is eyes and spotted one black woman laying on her back. She had a hat on her face.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled.

Bucky froze. He glanced behind and looked straight at Steve with an annoyed expression. Steve gestured him to come. Bucky tilted his head and shook it. He turned around, fell on his hands and started crawling towards the woman.

Faster.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, before taking off after Bucky. He avoided many people who tried to get his autograph and screamed an apology on his way. He’d have time to be embarrassed after.

Bucky was already near the stranger. He stood up, wobbled a bit and…fell.

Too focus on his target, Steve almost tripped on someone’s towel. He apologized through gritted teeth and sprinted. Bucky was now laying across the woman’s chest. He wasn’t showing no sign of moving away. If not, he was slowly climbing on top of her. Bucky, what the hell, Steve groaned, speeding up.

A few seconds later and he was there.

The woman was still not moving. She seemed unaware of the commotion. Steve made a quick prayer and approached.

“Bucky,” he hissed. “Come back.”

Bucky rolled over and gurgled some words. Steve sighed. And Bucky said he was the reckless one. Fearing both to be sent to the anti-harassment classes and the dent on his reputation if someone were to film them, he acted quickly. He glanced a last time at the woman and leaned forward, trying to grab Bucky’s leg. Bucky whined and kicked him, pretty harshly, before continuing his ascension on the woman’s chest.

“Bucky!” he whisper-yelled. Steve made another move then froze when the woman moved. She readjusted her hat on her face and laid still. Only for a second. Bucky suddenly dropped his smile and his eyes were open wide. The woman patted where Bucky was a few times. Then stopped. She took off her hat and blinked blearily. There was no vestige of her sleep and her face looked as good as new.

“What…” She raised her eyes and stared at Steve who backed off, hands high. A few intelligible apologies tumbled out of his mouth. She, then, looked at Bucky who burped loudly. She stared at him for a couple of seconds or minutes, Steve wouldn’t be able to tell. All he could hear is Fury admonishing them because of the scandal. Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, grope a woman while de-aged.

“Bucky,” she sighed before hoisted him on her chest, and hold him close. “Divorce is still on the table, you know?”

Bucky grabbed her face with his tiny hands, giving her a toothless smile.

“What?” Steve exclaimed, shocked.

“Hm?” She replied. Bucky had put one of his hands in her mouth. She pretended to bite it, eliciting a giggle out of him.

“How? Divorce?” Steve managed to say, although reality seemed too surreal. His brain was working way too slow. He tried to piece back the information and was still left with a huge gap. What was happening?

She raised her left hand and held it out. Steve eyes followed the graceful fingers, where a beautiful rock shone.

Steve’s brain short circuited.

“Your daughter is going to kill you, you know that,” she warned Bucky, who giggled. “She is not going to like you under this form, and she’ll take revenge for all the times you woke her up from her naps to play.”

Bucky snorted. She rolled her eyes.

“You won’t say I didn’t warn you.”

At the same time, a sleepy yawn erupted next to a pile of towels. A small head peaked through the towel and the most beautiful baby appeared. A dark skin baby girl with huge brown eyes gazed at her mom happily, unaware of the others. She smiled softly while brushing her coily hair. Her cheeks were round and her little finger chubby. Everything in Steve wanted to give this innocent soul whatever she wished for. And if someone dared harm her, he’d…wait a minute.

Steve, who was now sure he’d been hit by the witch curse and had been sent to another universe, stumbled back. He needed to focus on the important matter. Bucky was…married. Bucky was married and had a baby. With a woman. Steve didn’t know what was the most shocking. Had he been so blind that he didn’t notice? If Bucky had acted differently wouldn’t Steve, his best pal, had not noticed? Steve racked his brain to find some clues.

It’s true that Bucky had been happier. But Steve had thought it was the sessions working. After all, he had started the therapy at the same time he started to go out more. For Steve, Bucky had only been following some advice from the therapist. Like he, himself, did.

Lost in his memories, he didn’t even notice the presence of Clint and Sam by his sides.

“So, you also didn’t know?” Clint asked, strangely calm.

Steve shook slowly his head. “Is that a dream?”

“Clint, no!” Sam exclaimed.

Steve felt a sting behind his head. He didn’t even budge under the strength of the slap. He dazedly pressed a hand behind his head and said “ouch”. Clint laughed and avoided Sam’s fist. But not Steve’s. He punched him straight in the groin. Clint crumbled on the floor. Sam didn’t make a single move to help him. He towered over him, hands on his hips, staring at him with disapproval.

“I told you.”

Clint huffed and puffed. His hands cupped his groin and his face was red as beetroots.

Steve eyes were still on the little family in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. Bucky was married and he hadn’t told him. A spark of pain erupted from the center of his chest to his head. He repressed his tears and bit his lips. Now was not the time.

The little girl crawled toward her mom, eyes now on Bucky. Her soft face morphed into a grimace.

“’aby?” She asked her mom. She then patted her mom’s belly and pointed Bucky. “Aby!” She asked again, this time her eyes wide open with surprise.

“No, baby girl, it’s not the baby. Mommy told you we had to wait a little longer to see him.” Bucky’s head snapped up.

Steve was also shocked. Another baby? The pain was now oppressing. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to stand it. He swallowed with difficulty and clenched his hand hard. The pain from his nails pressing onto the soft skin of his palms relieved the mental wound. It helped him focus on the present.

Bucky gurgle something. His wife sighed.

“Yes, Bucky, I’m pregnant.”

“Daddy!” The little girl screamed. Her eyes travelled quickly from Bucky to her mom.

“Yes, your father,” she confirmed, deadpanned.

The little girl didn’t ask anymore questions and stayed silent. She stared at her dad a few seconds and started pouting. She patted her mom’s breast in quick firm motions.

“Mine,” she announced, with a determined face.

Bucky gave her a lopsided smile before laying his head onto his wife chest. His daughter reacted quickly. She yelped indignant, then pushed him violently of her mom. Bucky’s body rolled onto the floor, where he stayed in shock.

“Mine!” She screamed, before climbing totally on her mom. She leaned forward and embraced her boobs with her tiny, chubby arms, effectively protecting them from anyone.

Bucky looked at his wife, lips wobbling, tears trickling in his grey eyes. He raised his arms toward her and made grabby hands. She raised an eyebrow.

“Huh Huh, don’t cry. I told you so. It’s on you. And you laughed at me. Next time, when you wake your daughter, you’d think twice.” She patted her daughter’s back and kissed the crown of her head.

Bucky spun around and made grabby hands at Steve, who finally fainted.

“Come here you little donkey head,” Bucky’s wife sighed. “But don’t touch my boobs.” Bucky whined but complied. His eyes were a little teary, but his pout was still glued on his face. He crawled to her and sat down, eyes on his daughter.

“Baby girl, your dad doesn’t want to steal them from you, you know?”

The baby raised her head and glared at her dad.

“Mine,” she stated. “An’ ‘aby ‘rozer”

Her mom cooed at her words and nuzzled against her neck. She pressed loud kisses onto her small face.

“Yes, yours and your baby brother or sister,” her mom corrected.

The baby girl raised her eyes to her mom and pressed a hand on her mouth to shut her up.

“No! ‘rozer not sis’er,” she replied louder.

Her mom nodded slowly, letting her daughter affirm whatever she wanted. She hoisted Bucky and embraced them both. She looked sadly at Steve’s body.

“I told you he didn’t remember our wedding nor his goddaughter’s birth,” she complained, nose brushing his dark curls. Bucky muffled response came as unintelligible, exept for his wife, who sighed for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, I’m right again. Thor’s mead was too much, and you know it.”

Bucky grumbled. His looked at his daughter patted her back as soft as a toddler who didn’t have any motor control could, which resulted in a mild slap. His daughter opened her eyes and clenched her fingers into tight fist. Bucky barely had the time to brace for the impact that her fist hit him square in the shoulder. If it wasn’t for the support his wife was providing, he’d be rolling, again on the floor.

He frowned and automatically raised his fists. Baby or not, he was not getting down without a fight.

“Ok, that’s not happening,” his wife took them both off her chest and sat them face to face. They glared at each other.

“This is your dad. I know he can be annoying, but he loves you.” The baby girl growled. “And…I promise he’s going to let you sleep your naps.”

The woman turned to Bucky.

“And you. Once you are an adult, you’ll apologize.” Bucky started to babble angrily. “Or else, James Buchanan Barnes,” She raised her voice. “Or else God help me, because you won’t see a lot of me.”

Bucky dropped his gaze, pouting. He babbled softly some apologies to his daughter, who considered him seriously. It took a few seconds before she smiled softly. He thought he heard his wife say something about being the only decent parent. He wouldn’t disagree on that.

“’ady,” she said with a tiny voice. She raised her arms and hugged him.

Feeling so little in his daughter’s arms and feeling her love for him made him cry. His tiny body didn’t have the control it should have. He was supposed to stay impassible or coo. But not cry. But the more he stayed in her embrace the more he felt weak. She was so…

“’Ady’ sad?” she asked worried as she detached herself from him.

More tears fell down his cheeks.

“Nope,” his wife shot him a knowing look. “He is impressed by your strength.” She grabbed their daughter’s arms and squeezed them gently. “You have a mean throw, princess.”

Fin.

Mother masterrliiiisssstt ✨✨✨🐱‍🏍

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes family #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes × black!reader #james buchanan barnes #mcu fic #bucky x poc!reader #poc characters #black main character #black female characters #Bucky barnes x black!female character #Deaged Bucky Barnes #deaged bucky #fluff #steve is tired

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully / that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the unforgiven'' by metallica

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devourer--of--books · 4 years

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So, I just started to play Obey Me! Shall We Date

And well, I have thoughts

Im currently stuck on the first levels of lesson 5, so my knowledge of the plot is limited to that + some spoilers I accidentally got while going though the obey me! tag. Do I have a deep understanding of this game? No. Am I gonna rant anyway? Yeah. See me do another one of these soon after I play it some more, but for now, I need to put this out there:

First, mechanics-wise, the first thing on my mind was "Mr. Love from Hell", which is honestly not too far fetched. Maybe it's because I'm playing in my old ass tablet (I need a new phone, this thing ain't gonna survive 2020) but it's just so slow??? I've tried downloading full data, and it kinda helped, but still, it just annoys me so much! It's not crashing like crazy (cof cof Love Island The Game cof cof) but it could be better, it takes forever to get the itens to level up cards because it just ????????? takes forever for them to load???? anyone else got this problem or it's just my device? Anyway, that aside, I quite like it, if you played MLQC, it's pretty easy to manage, and while it takes a bit more of attention to win battles, I think that's a good thing. Getting shards has a been a bitch, like, I keep on suffering with the loading and my competitive ass wants to finish begginer's missions, and again I think Mr. Love has spoiled me. Also, someone please tell me how to level up skills, because I have no idea???

Now, moving on to the actual tea: what do I think of these boys?

Let's go in order, shall we:

So, I open the app and I see Lucifer in all his red and black glory, furry cape, Dom-Daddy, Big D Energy for days and go "Oh, Demon!Nobunaga, fun!". I'm immediately drawn to him beacause Nobu was my first ever otome guy and while I eventually grew out of the whole "this man is so controlling and sexy and dark" phase, nostalgia ya know? So, turns out the vibe I keep getting from Lucifer is more like all those dark-kinky-Jumin-Han-fanfics (as in, the only parts of Jumin Han that I hate) rather than Nobu? Idk man, this guy just seems shady?? They all do honestly but Lucifer is just plain scary. Dude, I know you've got the whole "most-powerful-oldest-control-freak" going for you but, like, can you chill?

Yet I can't really blame him, cause, Veronica (that's my MC's name) why, girl???? She be going up those stairs, and I'm just ??? Real talk, I'm kinda of a rule follower? I don't wanna make this guy mad, man, all I wanna do is hit on Satan (which we shall discuss soon) and see some family drama shenanigans. Lucifer says "don't go up those stairs" I'd be like "okay???" because up until now he hasn't given me a reason to not trust him (aside from being shady)??? But I have no choice but go talk to Belphegor (don't even get me started on this one) and I can just tell I'm gonna get in trouble for this. Could I not get there accidentally? Do I have to go there against Lucifer's direct orders? I don't think this is gonna go well, I just don't wanna get on his bad side hskshskshk

Lucifer's room, however, is everything to me, the deco is lovely (skeleton aside) and that bed, maaaannnn

Mammon started really annoying but he's been growing on me. I have a soft spot for dumb bitches like him, I guess? He just cracks me up? Not to be cheesy, but I like him as a friend? Maybe that'll change in the future, who knows, but for now that's how I see him, the best friend guy who is gonna be in love with you in every single route (read, Seven, but dumber). Can't wait for the angst. Looks wise I kind got him mixed with Solomon at some point (my dumbass though it was a bug) but all those Surprise Guest moments have me thinking he's way cuter than I gave him credit for at first.

I always feel bad for ratting him out to Lucifer, but boy, you and Veronica practically share one single brain cell, okay? I need to get my girl into Lucifer's good graces, I ain't about that troublemaker life

Levi is gonna be brief: No. He's not my type (otome or real life wise) and he annoys me. He reminded me a bit of Yoosung at first, and I'm trying to power though it like I did with him, but I can't. He keeps dragging me into his stuff and it's not cute, it makes me resent Levi. I'm not much of a tsundere enthusiast by nature, and I really don't like when they portray fans and gamers in this kinda "I'm weird, look at me I'm so weird and different" light ("have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? that's weird" jsjdndmsksjdnsmskdjnddm). It comes across (to me at least) as childish and dumb (not endearing dumb, like Mammon). Idk, maybe I'll change my mind? Don't come for me, Levi stans

So Satan

I love Satan

Otome makes you say the strangest shit hm

Still. I haven't interacted much with him but I'm obsessed with this man. Let me date you, okay? You look like posh book-cat-candle super model I wish existed. Let's be petty together. Since I haven't been playing long I hope I don't end up regretting putting my heart and soul into loving you. I'm doing all kinds of jobs to get intimacy go up with him, because guyghbkhiugiygufgfydddyghvjgvjg I'm all about that soft dom energy he has going for him, it's basically everything I love about Jumin Ham, but less CEO and more cute-bookstore-guy. Ideally, Satan is 100% my type, even if not the usual otome route I take first. Also, he is the Avatar of Wrath, which, along with Pride, is my most prominent sin, so I might be projecting

Pls babe don't turn out to be terrible

Kay, so Asmo. Asmo gives me all the Shingen vibes but realistic Shingen. Like, of Shingen is all about worshiping his MC, Asmo looks like he wants to be worshiped himself. Not judging, tho. That thing he said about loving himself above all things, I feel like it was supposed to be shady but I kinda agree? He's onto something. All this self-sacrifing thing is so romanticized. Can't we all be in healthy non co-dependent relationships? Love yourselves, kids. Which is why, while I said Satan is my ideal type of man, in real life, most of the people I've been with are Asmos. That being said, that's why he doesn't really work as an otome LI for me (at least for now). I'm here to live a fantasy of dating demons, not to see my exes. He is tempting tho. Who doesn't want a friend to do face masks and fuck from time to time, no strings attached until, "oh no, we both caught feelings, whatever shall we do" and then have it end well? (can you tell I'm projecting? my therapist is gonna love this). Poor Asmo, it's not his fault. Darling I'm sure you'll turn out to be lovely

On Beel, not much. I'm not into him, at least for now. his personality so far is that he's hungry. So what, man. I'm not here for that either. I don't find food particularly fun or sexy, it's just here to keep us alive (unless it's sweets, sweets are the best, but I'm having to cut down on sweets so), so he's not doing much for me. Gotta wait for that character development I guess

And to end this rant, Belphegor. Bitch, I've seen you on my demon cards, don't you dare tell Veronica you're human. But she's a dumb hoe, my girl Veronica, so she just doesn't question it???? I swear, this girl. Shady doesn't even cut it with him. Sorry, you're telling me what to do? Dude, lol, you're lucky this is Veronica and not me, because I'd be out of there as soon as you started this bull about me doing pacts with demons to get your ass out of that room. Don't prey on my empathy, it pisses me off. Spoilers tell me he's like a human-hater or something? Boy, fuck you, okay? Am I going to end up loving him? Who knows. For now he can rot in that room for all I care

Anyway, that's pretty much my first impressions of this game. I'll be playing it for some more time, until I get up to date on lessons and story or until colleges comes to drag me to literal hell, whatever comes first

Peace, my dudes

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lilixloveswriting · 4 years

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Shell

Whumptober 2020 Day 19 (Prompt: Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt)

Fandom: BNHA (This is an AU for my Next Gen...AU...😬)

Characters: Hitoshi Midoriya (OC), Mitsuko Midoriya kinda, she’s dead (OC), Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Katsuki Bakugo, Saisho Kirishima (OC), Eijiro Kirishima mentioned, also dead, Kayda Todoroki (OC), Hisao Todoroki (OC), Akio Todoroki haha...you guessed it (OC)

Word Count: 4582

A/N: This may be a mistake since y’all don’t know these characters yet but it just fits all the criteria for today’s prompt and I just couldn’t pass it up. Umm so I wrote this in the car when I couldn’t sleep on a road trip from 2 am to 9 am. I never acctually planned on posting it anywhere, so...idek what I’m trying to say. It’s the darkest thing I had written at that point (and imo, still is my darkest piece) so...yeah. Buckle up, it’s a sad one also please note canon Hitoshi is not this mean

TW: swearing, dissociation, suicidal ideation, child whump (Hitoshi is 13/14), survivor’s guilt (obvi), grief (obvi), family member death, past death of minor (Mitsuko - age 17), emotional detatchment, blood, ptsd flashback (nightmare), panic attack mention, vomiting mention, eventually Hitoshi has a well deserved emotional breakdown

The pencil spun around Hitoshi's knuckles in sync with the second hand of the clock. He stared at it, waiting for it to hypnotize him so that he didn't have to be there for the rest of his session. It wasn't anything personal, his therapist was fine. Today was just a bad day. Not that his days were ever good, but today was a particularly bad one. One where he felt like running out into traffic, just to see what would happen.

"Hitoshi?"

His voice seemed so far away in his dissociative state. It was nice, kind of comforting actually. More so than the unbearable ringing that would occur sometimes when someone spoke to him. The accident fucked his hearing, that's what the doctors said. The accident fucked a lot of things.

56, 57, 58, 59, 4:00

Hitoshi snapped into action, catching his pencil in his hand and slipping it into his bag as he lobbed it over his shoulder.

"Who's coming to get you today, Hitoshi?"

"My dad." He responded with a grumble, not that it was any of his business.

"Okay. Is he here, or would you like me to wait with you?"

Hitoshi shrugged his shoulders, biting back a sarcastic remark as he turned the door handle to exit his therapist's office and enter the hallway. He knew the way back to the waiting room all too well by now: a left, then two rights, down the elevator, and straight down the hall. Hitoshi heard muffled sobbing as he passed one of the doors, sparing it a glance before continuing. He wondered what her problem was. He was a little bit envious, for whatever it was, at least she could express how she was feeling. Hitoshi never felt anything but anger. Sometimes he never felt anything at all.

He made a beeline for the stairway, not too keen on sitting in another silent room with his therapist.

"Getting your steps in today?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes as he swung himself around the flat bit of the stairwell. Their session was over, couldn't this guy shut up?

He arrived at the waiting room soon enough, tucking his thumbs into his backpack straps as he scanned the room for his dad. Not here yet.

"Not here yet?"

"No, dingbat. Do you see him?"

"Hm. I've got some time before my next appointment. I can stick around for a while."

"Fuuuck me."

"Hey! Sorry, I went to the bathroom." Hitoshi turned towards the cheery voice he knew so well, a small sigh of relief escaping his lungs. "Hey, kiddo-" Izuku placed his hands on Hitoshi's shoulders, faltering as he moved and shoved the front door open. "Hey, hold on!" He called after his son, and Hitoshi did slow down, but he didn't stop. He left the building, then walked a few steps down the sidewalk, perching himself on the ledge of the window sill, his back to the building.

"Uhh…" Izuku sighed, "bad day?"

The therapist gave a vague shrug and Izuku frowned.

"What did he say? Did something happen at school? Did I do something? His mom?"

The therapist smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, Mr. Midoriya. You should talk to your son."

Izuku bit down on his lip. "Please, just…tell me something. Anything." The words begged to escape his throat, but he swallowed them down and nodded. He understood doctor-patient confidentiality, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

He bid Hitoshi's therapist goodbye, then joined his son on the sidewalk.

"Hey, kiddo." Izuku's voice sounded far away too, and Hitoshi wasn't sure if he wanted it to this time. He continued to stare at the curb of the sidewalk, the whizzing of tires lulling him off into another dissociative state. His father's voice was muffled and he didn't remember the walk from the sidewalk to the car.

"What's wrong, Hito?" Izuku turned to him, and he couldn't will himself to look away from the dashboard.

He didn't know what was wrong. Nothing, nothing was really wrong, but everything was wrong at the same time. He felt so fucking numb but ached all over at the same time. It was exhausting, he just wanted everything to stop. He wanted everyone to stop trying to fix him; he couldn't be fixed.

Hitoshi took a deep breath, willing all of his effort to move his tongue. "Nothing, I'm just tired." it was silent in the car, nobody moved and a wave of guilt washed over Hitoshi, though he wasn't sure what for.

"Survivor's guilt is a common occurrence. It won't be unusual for Hitoshi to feel as though he did something wrong for surviving the crash. Getting him into therapy sessions now is probably the best course of action."

"Can we go home now?" Hitoshi inhaled again as he reached for his seatbelt, jerking it over his body and clicking it into the buckle.

His dad put the car into drive and Hitoshi rested his head on the window.

"You wanna get some ice cream?" Izuku asked. Hitoshi shrugged and ten minutes later he had a chocolate ice cream cone in his hand. He had grown to hate the taste, but he ate it anyway because it made Izuku feel better.

It still felt wrong not to pass any napkins to Mitsuko to get it out of her hair.

Izuku flipped on the lights to his apartment; the "bachelor pad" as he called it. He had turned Hitoshi on to the idea of a man den when he was ten. They both knew this wasn't what he meant.

"Do you wanna-"

"I've got homework," Hitoshi said, heading straight to his room and shutting the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and told himself that he didn't care enough to put them away, but the way they were scattered across the floor was a little too much like her, so he picked them up and lined them up against the wall.

He fell back onto his bed, exhaling deeply as he stared up at the popcorn ceiling. His room here wasn't too bad, it was a decent size and his dad even bought him a desk and helped him decorate it with figurines and pictures. He put the pictures away though, they made him feel uneasy.

"Hey," There was a short knock at the door and it slowly creaked open. Izuku stuck his head inside. "I know you want to be alone right now, but keep the door open, yeah? Just a crack, okay?"

Hitoshi sat up a bit and nodded at his dad, who gave him a weak smile in return.

"Okay. Thank you." He said, and Hitoshi appreciated that he didn't pry, even though he knew his father was worried. "Uh, is there anything you want for dinner?"

Hitoshi shrugged and Izuku sighed.

"Okay. Think about it and let me know, okay?"

Hitoshi nodded a little, knowing he wasn't going to decide on anything. He really didn't care.

"Okay. I'll leave you alone now. I love you," Izuku said and Hitoshi gave him a small smile, then he left, pulling the door closed with about an inch to spare.

Hitoshi let his head fall back onto the bed, exhaling in a puff as another wave of guilt crashed over him. He always saw the look in his father's eyes.

"Please give me something. Anything."

But he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. He didn't even know what to say. His dad had always been emotional, he wondered how many nights he spent crying because Hitoshi couldn't even manage an "I love you."

He wanted to cry. He couldn't really remember what crying felt like, but he knew he used to feel better after he did. Now, he just felt bad all the time. He was tired of it.

Hitoshi flipped over onto his stomach, trapping his pillow between his arms and his face as his eyes fell on his bag. He had homework, but he couldn't convince himself to do it. The mere thought of it was exhausting and Hitoshi turned his head the other way, towards the wall.

The blood coated his fingers like syrup, making an awful squelching sound as it mixed with his tears. He applied pressure, he heard that somewhere, a tv show, he thinks. It was supposed to make the bleeding better or something, but it kept leaking and it soaked into his jeans and shirt and skin. He must not have been doing it right, maybe he was pressing too hard because Mitsuko kept gasping for air. Maybe he was choking her.

She turned to him and took in a shaky breath, eyes wide and bloodshot and she whispered in a spine chilling voice, "Help me, Hito."

Hitoshi gasped and in the moment of fear, loosened his grip on Mitsuko's neck. She screamed as the ground caved in, swallowing her whole, and Hitoshi couldn't do anything but scream her name as he reached in after her.

Hitoshi opened his eyes and lifted his head from his pillow, blinking a few times before looking around the room. He sighed, realizing it had been a dream. He wasn't sure which reality he would rather be in.

The faint smell of food caused him to sit up fully, and he looked at his nightstand to see a plate of pizza waiting for him. His dad had to eat alone again. Dick move, Hitoshi.

He rubbed his eyes as they fell on the window, the sun had already set. How long had he slept for? Hitoshi yawned and swung his legs over the side of his bed, taking a second before standing up and opening his door. He went to the living room, a short walk in the small apartment. His dad turned his head from the tv as Hitoshi stepped into the room, greeting him with a small smile.

"Hey. I don't know if you saw, but I left you some pizza. But if you don't want that then I can see what else I can make you."

Hitoshi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's fine." He whispered, and if you weren't listening for it you wouldn't have heard it.

"Okay. Mom called. I told her you were sleeping. You want me to call her back?"

Hitoshi shook his head and Izuku tilted his head to the side.

"Sweetie, you should call your mom." He said, prompting a sigh and a bit of an eye-roll from his son. He nodded in the end, though, so Izuku counted that as a victory.

"Later."

"Not too late. She probably has a shift in the morning, she'll be going to bed soon."

Hitoshi didn't respond to that. Instead, he walked around the couch and sat down next to his father. "What are you watching?" He asked, and Izuku was thrilled to be getting this many words out of him.

"I don't know. The news. Nothing special."

"Pro Heroes Ground Zero and Chargebolt work together in EPIC villain take down!" Izuku cleared his throat, switching the tv off before standing abruptly.

"Alright, it's late. Call your mom and get ready for bed, okay?" Izuku ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his head. "Goodnight, I love you." He said, then went to his room.

Hitoshi stared straight ahead at the switched-off tv. He should get to bed soon so his dad's sleep didn't suffer. Izuku always waited until Hitoshi had gone to bed before actually sleeping himself. He sighed, staring at the phone on the coffee table. He didn't want to call his mom; calling his mother actually involved talking, and she was much more thorough than his father was. He didn't want to deal with that today. Still, if he didn't call her then it'd be his father who suffered and Hitoshi didn't want that.

She picked up on the third ring.

"What, Izuku?"

"Mom." Hitoshi said, leaning into the phone as it rested on his palm.

"Oh, hi honey. What are you doing on Dad's phone?"

Hitoshi shrugged, sighing in frustration as he realized she couldn't see him. "It was closer than mine."

His mother laughed. "Lazy butt. How was your day?"

"Fine."

"How was your meeting with your therapist?"

"Fine."

"Okay…how's Daddy?"

Hitoshi sighed as he looked over the top of the couch to his dad's room, door open and light on. "I'm slowly killing him."

"Fine."

"Okay, can you give me more than that, please? I miss you. Pretty please?"

Again, Hitoshi sighed. "He's okay. We got ice cream."

"Oooh what's the occasion?"

"He's sad that I won't speak to him." "Just…guys being dudes."

Ochako laughed, which provided some type of relief, even if it was only temporary. "Alright, did you guys get your homework done?"

"Yeah," He lied. He didn't want his dad to get reprimanded for his own destructive tendencies.

"Did you have a lot?"

"Not really."

"Any you struggled with?"

Hitoshi cursed silently, looking for a bullshit answer. "Algebra." Mitsuko was good at algebra.

"Oh, ummm, well did you two get it? If not you could snap a pic and send it to me and I can help. Or you could ask Kayda, I'm sure she'd love to help you."

"We figured it out."

"Of course you did, you're so smart." There was a pause when Hitoshi didn't respond. "Your dad is pretty good at algebra, huh?"

Hitoshi sighed. "Yeah." That's where Mitsuko got it.

"Okay, well it's getting late. As much I know you love talking to me, you need to get your rest."

"Okay."

"Okay. I love you, bubba. Goodnight."

"Night." He said and hung up the phone, letting it sit idly in his lap before he moved. He went to his father's room and peeked inside to see the bathroom door closed. He must have been showering. Hitoshi left his phone on his bed, then went back to his own bedroom. He laid down on his bed, not bothering to get under the covers, figuring he'd just get up and shower when he'd inevitably wake up again in two hours. Everything felt heavy, especially his eyelids, and he let them fall closed as he drifted off into the night.

✱✱✱

Hitoshi kicked at the ground as his hands gripped the sides of the chair. His cousin sat in the one next to him, resting her chin on her hand.

"He doesn't need whatever the hell this is, Katsuki-"

"I don't have anything to do with this, don't start with me."

Hitoshi sighed and bent down to pick up his backpack just as Katsuki and his mom burst through the door to the principal's office. His mom rushed over to him, cupping his face in her hands and repeatedly asking if he was injured. Hitoshi pushed her off and started towards the door, scoffing when Ochako blocked his path.

"Hitoshi, what happened?"

The brunette glanced at his cousin who rolled her eyes as she picked up her bag. "Nothing."

"Obviously, it's not nothing if you're both here-"

"Okay, would you shut up and let me parent my own kid?" Katsuki spat, and Ochako scoffed.

"You're not doing a very good job-"

"Mom," Hitoshi whined. Nothing good was going to come from this.

"Saisho, what the hell happened?" Katsuki asked and the girl rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me, do you know how many strings I had to pull to come get you?"

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause it's my fault, right? It's always my fault." She pushed past her dad, ignoring his angry shouts and walked out of the door. Hitoshi slipped around his mother, following Saisho's lead. He just wanted to go home.

"This is the third call I've gotten this month. Saisho, whatever the hell this is, you need to get it together because I'm sick of it."

"What do you think, I like you coming to my school and screaming at me in the halls?!" Saisho whipped around and shouted right back at her father, a few spikes growing on her arms. "Yeah, it's the highlight of my freaking week!"

"Watch your mouth!" Katsuki scolded her but she was ready to fire back with more sarcasm.

"It wasn't her fault, she had a panic attack!" Hitoshi shouted over them, grabbing both of their attention as well as his mother's. Quieter, he continued, "They pick on her, they wouldn't leave her alone. So I stepped in and then her quirk was all…you know and then…"

"What…is this true?" Katsuki turned to Saisho, who's breathing had picked up as she stared at Hitoshi. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you don't listen! It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters. How could you even think that? You're supposed to tell me stuff like this-"

"She was just scared-" Hitoshi started, but was quickly stopped by a wry cry.

"Oh my GOD!" Saisho wrung her fingers through her hair, pulling at her scalp in frustration. She turned to Hitoshi, "Would you FUCK OFF?! Stop fighting my battles for me!"

"Hey!" Ochako stepped up next to Hitoshi, offended for her son who simply sighed and cast his gaze to the floor.

"Hey! Not okay!" Katsuki grabbed onto her wrist and she growled, yanking it away with all her might but still not able to get free.

"LET GO! Don't touch me! Stop!" She cried, clawing at Katsuki's hand. "Ugh! None of this would be happening if Dad was here!" She yelled, and that was enough for Katsuki to loosen his grip in shock. Saisho immediately ripped her hand away, stumbling backward in a fit of tears.

"I'm here! I'm here, sorry I'm late!" Izuku threw open the double doors, slowing down at the sight in front of him. "What…what's going on?"

Saisho let out one more frustrated sob and stomped forward, shoving past Izuku to the parking lot.

Izuku gave Katsuki a look, which he ignored and started after his daughter. Izuku grabbed him by the arm before he could get passed. "Hey-"

"Don't touch me!" Katsuki yanked his arm away, whipping around to face Izuku. "You're not the only one who lost someone in that accident, you know?! And that's what it was, an accident! It was an ACCIDENT! I'm sorry! You know I'm sorry! And you can punish me all you want, but don't you fucking drag her into it because she lost a parent!" He pointed out at the parking lot, tears welling up in his eyes and Hitoshi realized this was the first time he'd actually seen his uncle cry.

Izuku didn't stop him from leaving after that, and the broken family watched the blond storm out of the school.

"Okay…what the heck did I miss?" Izuku held his arms out to his sides as he approached his son and ex wife.

"More like why the hell did you miss? Izuku, where were you? I know they called you after they called me." Ochako stepped towards him, arms crossed over her chest.

"I was working-"

"So was I."

"I was all the way across town!"

"What happened to your super speed, Mr. Full Cowling?"

"Okay, I'm not doing this with you right now. Hitoshi-"

"No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to dodge my questions like they aren't important."

"I am trying to check on our son!"

"He's fine! I already checked, because I was here."

"Well I am here now and I would still like to know what happened."

"He was in a fight!"

"You were in a fight?!" Izuku echoed, turning to Hitoshi with a shocked look on his face.

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?! No, it wasn't a fight-" He started, but was interrupted by his mother before he could finish.

"Maybe you could have done something to prevent it if you actually talked to him."

Izuku recoiled, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth morphing into a scowl. "I do talk to him."

"Oh yeah? What do you talk about?"

"We…Ochako, this isn't fair-"

"You want to know what isn't fair? What isn't fair is that I'm stuck being his mom after you decided to be his friend! Let me guess what you had for dinner last night: whatever he wanted?"

Izuku frowned. "Actually, we had pizza."

"Oh, pizza! Even better!"

Hitoshi shut his eyes, scrunching his nose up as they continued to bicker. He was sure the classrooms down the hall could hear, and he didn't need to add anything else to his souring reputation. "You guys, can we please go home-"

"Shush!"

"Not now!"

This was how they'd been since the funeral. They argued constantly; over why the dishes weren't done (Mitsuko always did them), about who's turn it was to buy groceries (Mitsuko did most of the shopping), about whether they were going to keep Mitsuko's door open or closed.

The last one didn't last long because Izuku moved out a few months after. He wanted her door closed, but now Ochako could keep it open.

They argued over Hitoshi a lot too, and he remembered when he first saw the headlines: "Pro Heroes Deku and Uravity Messy Divorce After Loss of Child!"

He threw up after reading it.

Things were better after they separated. Well, not better, but at least they weren't fighting all the time. They had gotten better at communicating, but he still hated being in the same room with both of them at a time. It was times like these where he wished his sister was still here, or at least that Saisho didn't hate him.

He guessed this was the type of stuff he was supposed to tell his therapist. But how was he supposed to say it when it felt like talking about her was forbidden? Her name was like a lit match, waiting to be dropped on a stick of dynamite embedded deep inside of the Earth's core, ready to blow his world to pieces. He lost himself in these thoughts, spiraling down and down and down until he'd forgotten what reality he was in.

His dissociation was dangerous because he would sometimes wander without realizing it until someone woke him up. This time, it was Hisao.

Hitoshi blinked as Hisao shook his shoulder, staring at him with a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay? Here, come in." He ushered and Hitoshi listened realizing his clothes were damp. He must have walked there in the rain.

"KAYDAAA!" Hisao shouted, and from the annoyed look on his face it didn't seem like it was the first time. "I don't know where she is. Damn, I've got a thing to go to, I just stopped by to pick up some tools. Here, uh-" He flipped the switch to the fireplace and it lit up. "I'll go get you some dry clothes."

"What do you want?" Kayda came down the stairs, her irritated expression faltering as she laid eyes on Hitoshi. "Hito-chan…what…?" She started and looked to Hisao who shrugged, bounding up the stairs to get clothes for Hitoshi.

Kayda finished down the stairs and jogged over to Hitoshi, who was shivering now. "What are you doing here?"

Hitoshi shrugged. "I don't know." He truly didn't.

She frowned and grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Mom and dad were fighting." He mumbled and her shoulders slumped. He felt bad for unloading onto her like this. Mitsuko was her best friend after all.

"Okay! They're gonna be pretty big, but it's better than what you're wearing, so," Hisao appeared next to them, handing Kayda the dry clothes. "I'm late to meet with Jisoo, so are you guys okay? Should I…?"

Kayda shook her head. "Go on, we'll be fine."

Hisao muttered a quiet "kay" and quickly left the house, leaving Kayda and Hitoshi alone.

"Here, why don't we get you changed?" Kayda helped him stand and led him to the bathroom, handing him the clothes before he closed the door.

About fifteen minutes later, he was curled up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate.

"You know," Kayda sighed, picking at the blankets they were curled up with, "When Akio died…I wanted to die too. Well, not literally. I just couldn't…grasp the concept of living in a world where he didn't exist. I was so mad at him for…leaving me behind."

Hitoshi stared down into his cup. "It's not the same."

Kayda looked at him, then swallowed and nodded, sniffling. "I know."

Now he made her cry. When was this ever going to get any easier?

"I guess what I mean is," She sighed once more, allowing her hands to fall into her lap, "I've lost two important people within the last couple of years. So if you ever need someone to talk to…"

Hitoshi nodded. Kayda was nice, she had always been nice to him. But if he couldn't talk to his therapist, someone who his parents were paying to listen, how was he supposed to talk to his dead sister's best friend?

"Why didn't I wake up sooner?" Well,he's done it. Kayda raised an eyebrow and he, somehow, continued, "If I had…" He stopped, an involuntary sob bobbing in his throat, "She was just…lying there. She was all alone." He whimpered and his vision went blurry before he felt a warm wetness on his cheeks. "If I had…if I had woken up…s-sooner-" He coughed in his own tears, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

It had been a long time since he cried, and now that it was finally happening he didn't like it. His face was hot, and his head felt like it was going to explode from the sheer effort he was putting in to keep his tears from falling. Effort that didn't matter, because they were falling anyway, like a dam that had been patched up with gum, water spurting out of every crack, every crevice it could find. And to top it all off there was this sharp pain in his chest and he couldn't stop his lungs from seizing as he gasped for air, choking on his sobs and coughing when he couldn't get enough of it.

Warm arms restricted his shaking and he pressed his head into Kayda's chest, her hug providing some sense of security as he cried until his eyes swelled. Mitsuko would have made fun of him for this, and the thought only made him cry harder, pleading to some sentient being for the past year to have been a nightmare. Unfortunately for Hitoshi, said sentient being must not exist, because his desperate prayers went unheard.

She whispered little reassurances, and though he didn't believe them, they made him feel a little bit better. His breathing slowed and his cheeks dried, though his head still pounded like a drum. He would have fallen asleep if he hadn't pulled away, hiccuping as he wiped at his eye.

"I should tell my parents where I am." He mumbled, taking out his phone and struggling to type in the pass code with his shaky hand.

"They don't know?" Kayda inquired, to which Hitoshi shook his head. He hadn't told him he was leaving, and they had been too caught up in their argument to notice.

He shot them a text, nothing fancy or anything more than an address. He didn't want to talk to them. He was tired.

But he did feel better. Even if it was just a little bit.

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elinaline · 4 years

Note

The prime-numbered ones

Ffs

1. Did I have a good year

Uh mixed I'd say ? I am an engineer now, and I've seen my friends a lot and I feel like I've grown a lot and I know where I'm going and that's pretty fucking cool. Also I haven't felt too lonely this year and that was nice. But I also had to live for 4 months with a roommate that honestly scared me and made me feel not at home in my own apartment, I've had the worst flares of my chronic pain and it's been confirmed I'll have to deal with this shit my whole life, both of my parents are now orphans and this year has all in all felt like an end is coming and not a satisfying one, what with the harmful politics and the 45°C weather this summer.

2. How old did I turn this year ?

3. Do I feel my age ?

Uh. I've had to think for a minute about what age I am so I think that's all you need to know (I've stopped counting at 19, truth is I feel like a child most of the time and it's getting very frustrating)

5. My favorite selfie of this year

It's probably not the best one but listen, I was feeling really good, the sun was rising, my hair was purple (ugghhh I miss it.... I think I'm gonna buy some pink so that the few highlights I still have become pink) and I was heading to a convention to meet with my friend, in a cosplay I'm proud of, of a character I love. Let's not talk about the day after that though.

Ok now that's when we see if I'm good at math lol

7. Which fashion trend did I love ?

I am VERY MUCH out of the loop concerning fashion so I'll say vampire just to be safe

11. What album came out and has been on heavy rotation ?

I've listened a lot to Anna Akana's album ? It's not like, groundbreaking, but it's full of pretty songs and emotions and that's enough for me

13. Did an actor or actress catch my attention for the first time this year ?

Uh no I don't... Really pay attention to actors anymore ? Uh the kid from the detective Pikachu movie is fun on twitter tho

OH WAIT uh Ruth Wilson that I'd never seen before I think ? Is absolutely phenomenal as Marisa Coulter in His Dark Materials, she truly blew me away

17. Did I make any big permanent change this year ?

Uh I got my engineering diploma ? That fourth year I'm doing is like a double diploma in another uni so it's quite a big page that I'm turning.

19. What was one nice thing I did for myself ?

I got a purple ombré !! I'd been dreaming about this shit for years. Doing weird stuff to your hair really is cathartic, turns out it's not just like, a funky internet thing

23. Did I get a job ?

No, not yet

29. Did anyone anything make me so mad it stayed with me for days ?

Uhhh not ... Sure

31. Did I fall out of love ?

I uh. Hm.

Well I kinda wish I had ? I wish I could fall for someone who would just leave me in this fucking emotional limbo ? But it wouldn't be fun if things were easy right

Also I don't really wish I had because fuck, those feelings are super new as in I'd never felt like that before, and goddamn do I care for this imbecile. I hope he's healing.

37. If I could have a do over for one thing I did, would I take it ?

Yeah if I could choose another roommate for last summer, I'd do it gladly. I mean she would have been in deep trouble but I truly felt like absolute shit and it took me so long to get back up from this pit she dragged me in. As much as I'm willing to help, I'm not therapist, and no social service either.

41. Did anything happen to me that I was sure wouldn't change me as a person but actually did ?

Uh wow. That's something I'd probably need more than just a year of sitting back on to actually see I think.

43. What have I learned about myself this year that I didn't know before ?

My limit for emotional exhaustion, and for how long can I go while constantly being in pain without turning fucking crazy (that one's like three weeks and then I can't pay attention and I want to cry all the time and I'm constantly this close to a panic attack. I had a fun month of November)

47. If I make resolutions what are my resolutions for 2020 ?

Lmao how fitting that this is the last question for this one

Now that I know what's wrong with my body, I want to take up sports again. I'm going to see a back specialist and talk about what is and is not possible, and I'd love to dance again. I miss dancing and having control over my body and having fun with how flexible I am instead of it just being a source of problems.

#ask game #long post #welp i ended up checking i didnt forget any number because its midnight #ok hope it does post #ive seen the other ones but its late ill a'swer tmr #keep em coming though #also jeremie sérieusement ? sérieusement ?#queen of the worms #breadstyx

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serendipitykpop · 6 years

Text

when i realized i loved you

Pairing: lee juyeon x reader

Summary: “So this is the feeling of falling in love, huh?”

Nothing was any different from what you and Juyeon usually do when you were together. It was like any other movie night at your apartment. You two laying on your stomachs, surrounded by a mountain of blankets and pillows that formed a fort. Snacks and drinks in front of you as the latest episode of your favorite show illuminated the dark room.

So why? Why is he feeling like this? Why does everything feel so different now that he’s nestled so close to you? What does all of this mean?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt something brush against his shoulders. Juyeon turned his head to look down at you, seeing the mischief in your eyes. He raised an eyebrow and you smirked.

“You know, Juyeon. You were the one who begged me not to watch this show without you and yet, you’re not even paying attention to it.”

“Ah, well, I’ve just got something on my mind.” He adjusted himself to be more comfortable by placing his chin on his folded arms. He moved his head to look at you and you grinned, copying him right away.

“It must be really important if it’s managed to take your attention away from our favorite show.”

He hummed and bit down on his thumb.

“Tell me about it then. Let me be your personal therapist!” You commanded dramatically, then giggled. Juyeon watched you, feeling his heart melt in a way he had never felt before. Embarrassed, he buried his face into his arms and groaned. “Juyeon?”

He peeked out from his arm and saw your eyes glimmer with curiosity and wonder. He softly smiled and pinched your nose, making you groan. With mischief in his eyes, he moved his hand back and forth, only teasing you more.

“Knock it off!” You whined and slapped his hand away. He laughed and let his hand fall. He shoulder bumped you and the two of you giggled. “All right, all right. I’ll be serious now. Tell me about your problems, Juyeon!”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned and he nodded.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out eventually. I mean it’s something small, I guess.”

“Hm, if you say so. Now then, let’s go back to watching our show!”

The two of you were back to focusing on the tv until Juyeon got lost in thought again. He glanced at you and hoped maybe that would give him an explanation as to why this was happening. He really observed you this time, now noticing the small details he had never focused on before. He was brought back to reality when he saw your mouth open.

His eyes widened at the wonderful sound of your laughter, heart racing faster as you let out a snort. You were in such high spirits that you rolled onto your back and laughed even louder. You clutched onto your stomach and rolled back and forth. You looked at him and his cheeks immediately reacted by turning a deep red.

“You didn’t find that funny? Come on! It was hilarious. Juyeon!”

Though, he didn’t really hear it because all he can focus on was how much he wanted to kiss you at that moment. You were so beautiful and adorable looking that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you.

He froze. His eyes widened as his breath hitched in his throat.

Juyeon was in love with you?

His cheeks flared up the brightest it could manage at the thought of that. He covered his mouth with his hand as he sank to the floor. You watched him curiously, confused as to what came over him so suddenly.

Still a little bit unsure of whether or not this feeling was considered love, an occurrence flashed to his mind. Sangyeon had gathered all the members into the living room except the 97 liners. He made them sit on the couch as he cleared his throat and put on his stern look.

“Listen up, my naive children.” Sangyeon rested his hands on his hips.

“Oh, boy.” Hwall grumbled.

“Another lecture? After the one we got this morning?” Sunwoo groaned.

“Let’s just hear him out,” New offered.

“Thank you, New. As I was saying-”

“Can I go now?” Eric whined, cutting him off.

“YOU’RE GOING TO SIT HERE AND LISTEN TO ME ABOUT THIS VERY IMPORTANT SUBJECT.”

“What’s more important than my show?” Juhaknyeon asked.

“Yeah, we’re going to miss the new episode, Sangyeon!” Q pouted.

“Can’t you tell us after we watch it?” Kevin groaned.

“If they can watch, can I go now?” Juyeon added in.

Ignoring their protesting, Sangyeon continued on anyways. He went on to talk about the subject of love. At that, the members let out groans and complaints. Though, that didn’t stop him. The oldest talked about love at first sight, realizing when you were in love and how relationships took hard work. He emphasized the things you should experience when you fall in love with someone.

Remembering what his leader said, everything made sense now. Everything he was experiencing right now were all signs of being in love with someone.

“Ah, I really am in love with Y/N,” He mumbled and squeezed his eyes tight. He shook his head back and forth in his hands, trying to keep his cool. Meanwhile, you rested your cheek against the palm of your hand and watched him freak out. You knew you should’ve helped, but it was rare for him to act him flustered. He was always trying to act cool around you.

Once it looked like he had figured out whatever it was, he turned and met your eyes. You blushed and turned away without thinking. You heard him chuckle from beside you, then reached out his hand to ruffle your hair.

“I know I worried you there, but I’m good now.”

“You sure?” You asked, peeking out from under his hand.

“Mm.”

“Took you long enough.” You teased and poked your tongue out. “Now, that means we can finally find out what happened to the main character.”

“I bet you he’s still alive because of that person.”

“No way! It had to be because of his mentor.”

The two of you were back to your normal selves, teasing and bickering with one another about your show. He laid his cheek against his arm, getting a good view of you while you were in so immersed in the show.

With a soft smile on his face, Juyeon watched you as a shade of pink dusted his cheeks. Giddiness welled up in his chest and he couldn’t help but feel so content. You saw him looking at you in the corner of your eye, but you just shook it off and grinned. He mumbled something to himself that he hoped you didn’t hear until he could gather enough courage to tell you.

“So this is the feeling of falling in love, huh? I kinda like it.”

#juyeon #lee juyeon #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines

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thysurveys · 5 years

Text

877.

What’s the ultimate cake topping? I don’t really care for cake. Do you prefer to wash in the mornings or evenings? Evening. Have you ever walked into a wall? Yes. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal stripes? Vertical if I am wearing stripes.

Can you name all 50 American states? Nope.

Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? Yeah. What makes you nervous? A lot of things. Are you ticklish? Yeah. Do you ever forward or reply to chain mails? Nope. Have you ever tried to make your own alcohol? Nope. Is it criminal to wear socks with sandals? You do you. If you were to join one of the armed forces, which would it be? No idea. If you swapped genders for a day, how would you spend it? Never really thought about it. Probably very similar to how I would now? Have you ever starred in a school play? I don’t believe I have. What historical period would you like to live in if you could go back in time? 80s, maybe? Have you ever been to see stand up comedy? Nope. Have you ever needed stitches? Yes. Do you ever laugh at things you shouldn’t? Yeah, I think so. Have you ever been in a submarine? Nope. What would you do if someone proposed to you tomorrow? I would be happy. How high can you jump? Not high? Which fictional character do you wish was real? Lucas from One Tree Hill at the mo I guess bc I’m obsessed. Do you like vanilla or chocolate? I like both. Do you think Barbie is a negative role model for young girls? They’re becoming a lot more diverse, so I would say positive-ish as of today? Do you prefer Honey or Jam? I like both. Do you read a daily newspaper? Not my thing. Do you own a lava lamp? Yes, sir. Have you ever been in a hot tub or sauna? Uh huh. Have you ever had chicken pox? Yep. Do you believe there used to be dragons? I don’t think so, no. Who would you want to be with on a desert island? Kevin. What’s the worst show on television? South Park I think. Beavis and Butthead. I just don’t care for that kind of humour. Who’s your favorite god from ancient history? I don’t really know. What was the last present you received? Wasn’t really a present, but a card I received when I got my current job. Could you go out with someone who had a child from a previous relationship? Sure. I love kids. What was your first alcoholic drink? Beer. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Qld. What was your first detention for? Never really had detention. Who was your first kiss? An ex. What was the first film you remember seeing at the cinema? Rugrats. And it was the first film I ever watched. What nicknames do you have/have had? I go by Jess by pretty much everyone. Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? Did, sure thing. Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? Yes. Have you ever carved a pumpkin? I think I have. I don’t really know tbh. I may have attempted it. Did you ever have a treehouse as a kid? Nope. Do you plan to vote in the next election? Yeah, have to unless I want a fine lol. Have you ever appeared on YouTube? Yeah. Have you ever been on radio? Uh nope. Do you bite your nails? Not anymore since I have SNS. Are you much of an adventurer? I would like to be more of an adventurer. Do you like your own name? Eh. How long has your longest ever phone call been? Oh man probably like 10 hours? Lol. Have you ever stolen anything? Yeah. Could you ever have an affair with a married person? Nah. Could you ever split up a couple for one reason or another? I have when I was young and dumb. Do you get hayfever? I do unfortunately now. I never used to. Have you ever planted a tree? Yeah. Do you believe in karma? Yeah. Which celebrity do you find the most annoying? Don’t really care. If you discovered a new species of dinosaur, what would you call it? Hm. I can’t think of anything creative lol.

#surveys #survey #question #questions #quiz #personal #bored #misc

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komahinasecretexchange · 6 years

Text

Title : The things you fight for

Author : @serahne

For : @freakysandra1995

Rating/Warning : some angsty moments, but nothing that someone into Danganronpa couldn’t bear ( 🐻 ) in my opinion. Komaeda and Hinata are a bit of a mess, but they are so entertaining.

Prompt : “Making the other jealous”

Author’s note : It’s finally out. I wrote this in a couple of days, but I still wanted to write something good for you. The prompt I’ve picked amongst your suggestion is interesting because it really struck me as really OOC at first for both Komaeda and Hinata... and then I started to enjoy the idea of Pining!Hinata, so here we are.

The fic also includes some Hinata/Koizumi friendship, because they are my weakness, and there is no way Hinata would get his shits together without her anyway.

As she was one of the very few sane person on the island, Hinata actually enjoyed Koizumi’s presence. Sure, she could be bossy, had a very strict idea on the place the boys should have - and a very vague one on girl’s beside ‘in charge of everything’ - and could fret over things of no importance, but she was also a trustworthy friend, a great listener and she knew exactly how long a tea bag needed to dip in the water to get a perfect flavour.

It was a bit embarrassing that even after going through brain surgery to enhance his abilities or whatever was on this paper he had be asked to sign once - without being given enough time to read the small characters at the bottom of the page about completely wiping out his personality, of course - he was still unable to get it right. No matter what, his tea always ended up undrinkable. Go figure.

But over anything else, Koizumi was good at giving advice. What’s more, she loved giving advice, even when others didn’t ask for them.

“You seem down, Hinata.” She said with a concerned expression, as they were both seated in the restaurant. “Did you sleep well ?””

Hinata shrugged. There was always someone making noise on the island. Unlike what happened in the simulation, no one cared about going to sleep early and locking their door tightly. And even when one of them wasn’t wandering around the island, the agents of Future Foundation were like a swarm of bees, restlessly buzzing through the night.

“It’s fine, I just… urgh. I need an advice.” He admitted.

Koizumi offered him a self-satisfied smile. Of course you do, her smile seemed to say, and despite Hinata’s sudden urge to be purposely unpleasant, he chose to bit his tongue instead. After all, he did need an advice.

“I’ll help you if I can,” she replied. “What’s the trouble ?”

“Boys.” He sighed before sipping his tea - still burning, ouch - and feeling like he might be quoting a random chick movie.

He knew his friend would appreciate it. And indeed, Koizumi huffed in amusement.

“What a surprise, but you’ll have to be more precise. Are you referring to Nidai punching a hole in a tree at the beach ? Or to Souda being caught by Togami building what seems to be a turbo-nuclear reactor, though he swears it wasn’t his intent ? Or… are you talking about Hanamura asking Sonia to be judge at a dick-measuring contest ?”

Hinata almost choked on his saliva.

“Hanamura did what ?” Koizumi looked at him with a blazé look. See what I have to go through everyday ? she seemed to say. Hinata shook his head. “Heh, do you want me to talk to him or something ?

“Oh, no. I already firmly explained to him that he was to stop his harassment. I might have let it slip that Sonia has diplomatic immunity in 187 countries, and that she is free to murder him anytime she sees fit.” Her eyes shone with amusement. “Oh, I had the help of Komaeda too. May the fear he inspires to Hanamura never fade !”

She emptied her cup of tea, her smile never leaving her lips. Hinata took note to go and see Hanamura at some point in the day, just to see if the guy was still alive. There was no way Koizumi would be that giddy over a simple… explanation. Even a firm one. And even with Komaeda scaring Hanamura as a bonus.

“Well, okay then.” Hinata took a deep breath to give himself some courage. “I wanted to talk to you about him.”

“Hanamura ?”

“Komaeda.”

“Oh.” Koizumi sighed. She was clearly taken aback, but to her credit she did her best to pretend that nothing had caught her off-guard. “I thought you were getting along pretty well. I mean. Considering the… circumstances.”

Hinata grimaced. “We are ? Kind of ?” They had an entire list of banned subject that they did their best to avoid whenever they were talking together, but beside that, they got along. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

Koizumi hummed quietly, waiting for Hinata to spill the beans. Hinata frowned.

“Do... hm... do you think he likes me ?” He asked, almost more to himself than for her.

Koizumi froze for a second.

“... define ‘like’ ?”

Hinata rolled his eyes at Koizumi’s cautious behaviour.

“You know what I mean ! I mean like-like.” He was being ridiculous, but why was Koizumi playing stupid right now ? “You know. Do you think he is into me ? I mean we spend a lot of time together, and he always says he is flattered that we hang out so much together, and yesterday he said he liked my smile and…”

“Wow, slow down !” Koizumi cut him off, eyes wide. “Oh my god, how long have you been keeping that inside ?”

“... a while ?”

He just didn’t want to bother anyone with feelings he wasn’t sure of. Everyone has been pretty understanding with his obsession of bringing Komaeda back from his coma, and no one had really questioned that he was seeking his presence afterward. No one except Komaeda, that was. And he wasn’t exactly the best person to talk to about the feelings Hinata had for him, right ? Anyway, it was a freaking mess, and there wasn’t a day Hinata didn’t want to punch himself for getting a weird crush on Komaeda of all people.

Koizumi’s eyebrows had disappeared under her bangs, and Hinata couldn’t blame her.

“Well, that’s… something.” She said quietly.

“You think it’s a terrible idea.” Hinata translated.

To his surprise, Koizumi shook her head.

“Not… exactly ? It makes sense, in some ways. It explains a lot of things. I’m just not really sure what you expect me to tell you. From my point of view, Komaeda is attracted to you. Maybe he actually like-like you, as you said. It’s just… I don’t know how far you are in your ‘forgiveness process’. Maybe it would be better to wait ?”

Hinata fought the urge to scream. He had spent two freaking hours with a Future Foundation’s therapist talking about the forgiveness process - a lot of bullshit in his opinion. He was supposed to forgive everyone. Himself, Hope’s Peak, his parents, the others ex-remnants of Despair, Junko-fucking-Enoshima.

Yeah, sure, tell yourself that I’m not going to burn with hatred for her until I die.

“I forgave him.” He simply replied. “Of course I forgave him.”

Koizumi tilted her head on the side.

“And he forgave you ?”

“What do you mean, he forgave me ?” Hinata huffed indignantly. “He tried to murder me.”

Koizumi fell quiet, and looked at her hands. Suddenly, her face was a lot somber.

“Believe me Hinata, it’s a lot easier to forgive people for being wrong than for being right.”

Hinata grimaced. Koizumi’s relationship with Pekoyama and Kuzuryuu hadn’t improved since they had woken up, almost four months ago. Kuzuryuu was just eaten alive by his guilt toward Pekoyama and couldn’t be bothered dealing with anything else. Pekoyama wasn’t exactly the kind to ask - or to grant - any kind of forgiveness.

Hinata wondered how well her therapy sessions could go, forgiveness process and all.

“Do you want to talk about it ?” He asked.

Koizumi shook her head.

“There is nothing to talk about.” She replied, looking more fragile than usual. “It’s a sucky situation. I’ll… try to deal with it eventually. One day.”

Hinata didn’t say anything but reached for her hand and squeezed it between his fingers. She gave him a little smile in return.

He was about to say something about how friendship should go both ways, when the door of the restaurant opened. There, standing in the door frame, was Komaeda, who looked like he had just woken up even though it was past eleven o’clock already. He looked at them, blinking like an owl, and Hinata felt his cheeks warm up under the other’s gaze.

Well, at least he didn’t enter five minutes before.

“Hey,” he said, a bit lamely. “Are you okay ?”

Komaeda nodded, but his eyes focused on a spot on the table, and confusion painted his face. Hinata followed his gaze, and noticed… that he was staring at Hinata and Koizumi’s hands, still intertwined after their little discussion.

“Er...” Hinata took back his hand and Koizumi didn’t make any comment, happy to observe the scene with interest. It was a bit weird now that she knew, thought Hinata. “Right. Do you want to go and eat something on the beach, Komaeda ? Koizumi and I just finished our… hm… talk.”

“We were talking about the cleaning of the pool !” Koizumi added with a smile. “I’m counting on you too, Komaeda ! So no running away.”

Whatever the weird mood has been, it was gone, and Komaeda smiled a bit, always glad to help. If there was one person on this island who wouldn’t run away from chores, it was Komaeda.

“Of course, I trust your sense of organization !” He bowed his head just a bit, then turned toward Hinata. “I’m going to get a mat from my cabin if we spend some time at the beach, Hinata. You can finish your discussion with Koizumi that way !”

A second later, he was gone, leaving a frowning Hinata and a smiling Koizumi behind him.

“Well, that settles it, don’t you think ?” She asked, looking like a cat who had just found a cream jar.

Hinata didn’t follow.

“What do you mean ?”

“Oh come on, Hinata. You saw his expression when he noticed our hands. He was clearly jealous !” Koizumi replied. “Actually, I’m surprised I didn’t think about it sooner. Seeing if he is jealous when you get close to other people is a good indicative, you know ?”

“Right,” Hinata said. “I don’t know, he was a bit weird but… jealous ? You’re sure ?”

Koizumi shrugged at the question.

“I mean, if you don’t believe me, you can try again, you know. See how he reacts when you compliment other people ? You could try to… let’s see, compliment Sonia on the way she wears her hair ?”

Hinata narrowed his eyes.

“What ?” He said. “That doesn’t sound like something someone interested in her would say. That just sounds very gay.”

Koizumi gave him a flat look, and he eventually gave in.

“Fine, fine. I’ll try, maybe. Thanks for the advice. I guess.” He sighed. He looked at the clock on the wall, and grimaced when he noticed that time was flying fast. “I have to go, see you later ?”

Koizumi waved at him.

“Run, loverboy !”

So Hinata tried to follow Koizumi’s advice. While they were eating on the beach, enjoying the warm weather of the island, Hinata managed to mention more or less naturally how pretty Sonia’s hair were on this beautiful morning.

Komaeda looked thoughtful when he answered.

“This is very good news. I’ve heard that when she woke up with short hair, it was difficult for her. Of course, I wasn’t awake yet, so it’s just rumors I’ve heard but… she seems to give a lot of important to her hair.”

His voice was somehow disapproving, but Hinata didn’t mind.

He even smiled a bit. It was true. Sonia had tried to not let the way her body had been mutilated during the events following the Tragedy get to her. Anytime someone expressed compassion about it, she brushed it off, telling that at least she hasn’t lost an eye or a hand. Scars didn’t hurt that much, hair could grow again.

He looked at Komaeda from the corner of his eyes. Sonia’s hair were pretty amazing, but his hair was a mess. Without thinking, Hinata reached out and tuck a strand of white, dry hair behind the other’s ear. Komaeda’s eyes opened wide and he turned toward him, surprised.

“Hinata… ?”

Hinata moved his hand away from Komaeda’s face, as quickly as if he has been burnt.

“Sorry, I just… you had some sand in your hair ?” He tried to cover it up as best as he could. “It just bothered me. I should have warned you.”

“Oh.”

“And uh… Your hair is pretty damaged, you know ? I’m sure we could find you some shampoo if you want.” Hinata added, because it was true after all. Future Foundation entertained some stupid demands from them, so they could be bothered with hair product.

Komaeda didn’t seem to care.

“This is very kind, Hinata.” He replied with a smile. “But I’m alright, really. Unlike our princess, I don’t give a lot of importance to my hair.”

“I’d say that you don’t give a lot of importance to you, in general,” Hinata replied.

For a moment, Komaeda stayed quiet, and turned toward the sea, while Hinata did the same. The water was so beautiful, with the sunlight reflected in the water. Sometimes, Hinata wondered how he could have believed that the Neo World Program was real. Now that he was out and looking at the real thing, he didn’t think he could ever be fooled again.

“I…” Komaeda said slowly without looking at Hinata. “I suppose you’re right.”

Then the mood was a bit killed, and he didn’t feel like bringing up Sonia’s hair again, or any part of her. They just both stayed side by side, not looking at each other but - at least in Hinata’s case - extremely aware of the other’s presence. At some point, Hinata took a deep breath and, heart beating like crazy, he scooted a bit to his left, until his shoulder grazed Komaeda’s. He felt the other tense for a second… and then slowly relax.

Hinata was really glad Komaeda couldn’t see his face at this moment. It could seem stupid and, really, it was, but he was just as breathless and his heart was beating just as fast as after the morning runs he did, sometimes, with Nidai and Owari.

The next time he tried to make Komaeda jealous didn’t work either. It was his fault for underestimating his opponent, he supposed.

“You know, I think Kuzuryuu can be pretty sweet when he wants to be.” He said as they were browsing through the books in the library. “He might seem rough on the edges, but he really cares, you know ? He told me we were bonded for life and that I wasn’t allowed to die.”

Komaeda smiled politely at that, and stood on his toes to grab a book on a shelf that was just slightly too high for Hinata to reach. Hinata couldn’t help but glower at him, Komaeda’s smile turning smug when he noticed Hinata’s annoyance.

“Do you need any help ?”

“No.”

Komaeda chuckled behind the book cover but didn’t press the matter.

“Alright, alright. As for Kuzuryuu, I think the term used is tsundere.” He replied. “You should cherish this kind of bond, Hinata. I’m sure anyone would be honored to be bonded to the head of a yakuza family that way.”

Hinata scratched the back of his head.

“I… suppose it’s true. The words just sounded so romantic, when he said them, you know ?”

Komaeda fell silent and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly subtle. And yet, it was so hard to decipher what Komaeda was thinking. Fine, Kamukura hadn’t left him the ability to make good tea, but basic social skills were too much to ask ?

“Hinata... “ Komaeda said slowly. “Are you interested in Kuzuryuu ?”

“What ? No, I…” Hinata wasn’t sure what to say once he was confronted to his stupid plan. He couldn’t say that he liked Kuzuryuu like that, right ? “I just thought it was funny, that’s all. In a cute way. Or cute in a funny way, whatever.”

Komaeda processed his words for a few second, then his entire body relaxed.

It has to mean something, right ? Hinata thought with certainty. Why would he be relieved to know that I’m not interested in Kuzuryuu ?

“This is a good thing,” Komaeda said. “While you can be very charming, Hinata, I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be enough, since Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama have a very close relationship. If you had to fight for love, it would be better if your rival wasn’t someone who knew thirty-three ways to kill a man, just as a piece of advice.”

Thirty-th… Hinata felt cold sweat running on his forehead. Not saying that he was into Kuzuryuu had been the good option then. The problem was that now he had no idea if Komaeda was relieved because of his own feelings for Hinata or because he was worried Hinata would be turned into a kebab by Pekoyama.

“Heh, don’t worry about that, I’m safe from her,” he replied with a laugh.

Komaeda smiled, then went back to read his book - some kind of romantic bullcrap that Hinata enjoyed to make fun of sometimes. Hinata threw a look at the book he wanted - just slightly out of reach. His pride refused to let him ask for Komaeda’s help, and he went to get a chair instead.

He climbed it, and he had no problem reaching the book. He was about to get down when…

CRACK !!!

“Hajime !”

At the last second, he felt Komaeda’s arms trying to save him from the fall, but his weight threw them both on the floor, Hinata landing painfully on Komaeda’s chest and arm - his real one, at that. The white-haired boy let out a choked mewl when his wrist got twisted, and Hinata grimaced at the sound.

Still on top of Komaeda, he did his best to support his own weight with his arms, and managed to get enough distance to see the extent of the damages. Komaeda wasn’t crying, but he was clearly in pain, holding his wrist and gritting his teeth.

“Shit,” Hinata grimaced, feeling guilt settle in his stomach like an heavy rock. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I think your wrist is broken…”

Komaeda nodded, and looked at his other hand, the robotic one. A weak smile bloomed on his lips. When he talked, it was hard to not notice in how much pain he was.”

“I’m glad,” he hiccuped, “that I didn’t damage your work at least. I’m pretty damn lucky, right ?”

Shut up, wanted to say Hinata, but that would have be mean considering the situation.

“Yeah, you are. I… I’ll help you stand up, alright ? I don’t think I can be of any help I…”

No tea-making abilities, no social skills, and no medical skills either, hum ?

“... we’ll go and find someone from Future Foundation.”

Komaeda put his robotic arm on Hinata’s to stop him.

“Tsumiki is fine. I trust her.”

Hinata was taken aback a few seconds. “I trust her” just didn’t seem like the kind of things Komaeda would say about anyone. And as far as he was concerned, he liked the nurse a lot but wouldn’t trust her with his health even if she was the last person with medical training on earth.

Still, if Komaeda trusted her...

Quite ironic, but while Hinata had tried to make Komaeda jealous by talking about Kuzuryuu’s ‘romantic’ speech to him, he was the one who left the library with a head full of conflicted feelings.

You trust her, you trust her.

And me, do you trust me ? Do you like me ? Would you fight for me ?

Five days later, Hinata was pissed. At Komaeda. For a change.

“What do you mean you lied to Tsumiki for me ?” He exploded. “Why would you do that ?”

Komaeda was sitting on his bed, inside his cabin. With his bandaged wrist, he looked pitiful, but that didn’t stop Hinata’s fury.

“It was unnecessary, Hinata !” Komaeda explained to him, having the audacity to talk to him as if he was an idiot. “No one needed to know that you were there with me, what difference would that make ?”

“I wasn’t just with you ! You fell because of me !” Hinata hissed in return. “Why are you acting as if we are in some kind of toxic mess of a relationship ! I’m feeling guilty, but I don’t need you to cover up for me, okay ? I’m an adult who is trying to get his shits together, no matter how hard it can be !”

Komaeda lowered his eyes to the ground, face cold and closed. Hinata sighed : when the other acted that way, there was nothing he could do to change it. He felt a wave of powerlessness roll over him and closed his eyes.

My, my, what a situation he was in.

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly heard.

Surprised, he opened his eyes, and looked at Komaeda. His eyes were strangely intense, shining with a determination that he had rarely seen before.

Well, except for when this time in the simulation when Komaeda had come to his room before he bombed the hotel’s lobby. His eyes have been shining a lot too, then. Even with how stressed Hinata was, he had still noticed them.

“It’s fine,” Hinata replied, feeling exhausted. “I’m used to it, am I not ? I’m just… I just wish I knew why you’ve done it ?”

Silence. And then.

“I’m sorry.” Komaeda said again.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

Komaeda shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry for trying to kill everyone back in the simulation. I was wrong. I was an idiot. I was fighting for a cause that wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry for killing Nanami, too. I never intended to, but it was my fault.”

Time stopped. Hinata froze, and even stopped breathing. Even his heartbeat turned into a low lullaby, as if it understood how important this moment was.

Komaeda still wasn’t looking at him. The words have come out without an hesitation, as if they had been maturing inside of him all these months since they had left the simulation. Hinata wet his lips, knowing that next words had to be his, and had to be good.

“I forgive you,” he said, and he was almost surprised when he realized that he meant it.

Komaeda stared at him.

“Why ?”

Hinata shrugged.

“I just do.”

Komaeda was clearly frustrated and unsatisfied by the answer. His eyes were looking for something that Hinata knew he wouldn’t find. There was no reason to Hinata’s forgiveness. Maybe the forgiveness process had followed its course, maybe he had just decided that hating Komaeda for what had happened was too pointless and too tiring, maybe he was just happy with where they were now, no matter how awful their situation and their past-actions were, and that he selfishly couldn’t see how Komaeda’s actions had hurt him in the end.

Maybe he was just an idiot with a crush.

“I’m sorry too,” Hinata said finally, because it had been on his mind for a while. “For not being who you thought I was. For disappointing you. Not levelling up to the image that you had of me in your head.”

Komaeda frowned, but didn’t make any sarcastic remark either.

“I… forgive you.” He eventually said.

And Hinata hoped that his forgiveness was also a bit selfish, and that at the end of the day, he didn’t mind who Hinata really was.

“What about Nanami ?” Komaeda asked quietly. “I killed her.”

Not really, Hinata wanted to say.

“It was the hardest to forgive,” he admitted. “At first I felt like I was betraying her memory by forgiving you. No wait… I felt like my hatred kept her alive, in some twisted, sick way. At least inside of me. Urgh, I’m not making any sense, do I ?”

Komaeda shook his head, looking very serious.

“You don’t realize how much you are.”

Hinata took a deep breath.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both fell silent, the atmosphere between them finally pleasant, and comfortable, and Hinata didn’t feel like he had ever felt more connected with someone in his life. It was a bit terrifying, in a way. He hoped Komaeda felt the same way.

“You know,” he said, “I’m more angry at Naegi and the others, at the end. I’m angry because they made me care for someone who didn’t exist. How cruel is that ?”

Komaeda looked at him strangely.

“You did like Nanami.”

It wasn’t a question. Hinata remembered how Komaeda had almost asked him the same question, back in the library, when he had tried to make Komaeda jealous of Kuzuryuu. He had a crazy opportunity there : he could admit having romantic feelings for Nanami, and it might push Komaeda to do something in return.

But…

After their discussion he didn’t want to. No more manipulation. No more lies. No more mind games. It’s not like they had been very successful, anyway.

“A bit, I guess. She made things look very easy.” He smiled, nostalgic. “Sometimes I wish things were easier and I wish she was there. I… I talk to her sometimes. I imagine what she would say, and I make up entire dialogues in my head.”

He looked up toward Komaeda, who was just listening to him patiently.

“I’m just really angry at Future Foundation, and Naegi, and everyone who made me believe that Nanami existed and that things could be easy after everything we went through,” he said. “I know it sucks, my therapist wouldn’t be proud of me, she is always talking about forgiving everyone.”

“Oh ?” Komaeda replied, perking up. “Mine too, actually. She tried to make me forgive Enoshima.”

Hinata grinned. Komaeda sounded so offended.

“Did you ?” He asked.

Komaeda looked at Hinata, very seriously.

“The bitch can rot in hell until the the next Apocalypse.”

Hinata collapsed on the bed, his body shaken by a laughter that he couldn’t stop. Tears at the corner of his eyes, his belly aching, curling on Komaeda’s bed as its owner looked very unamused by his sudden joy, Hinata didn’t remember when he had ever felt that light.

“I’m giving up !” Hinata announced proudly when he finally managed to find Koizumi, who was hanging out by herself in the lobby, in the middle of the coats that everyone else had brought for the party.

The party was for Mioda’s birthday. She was twenty-three, and had organized the biggest event possible, with music - and private concert - drinks, dancefloor, games… it was a bit too much for Hinata who, after being squeezed in a almost-lethal hug by the birthday girl, hoped to find for some quiet place.

“Giving up ?” Koizumi said as Hinata sat next to her. “I’m not sure what you are giving up exactly, but you seem really happy about it.”

Hinata took a sip from his drink and probably made a face - he didn’t know who had dosed these stuff, but they shouldn’t be allowed to next time - because Koizumi smirked at him. Hinata stuck out his tongue in return.

Alright, maybe he was a bit tipsy. Just a tiny little bit.

“This stuff with Komaeda,” he said. “Making him jealous. It doesn’t work. It sucks.”

“Of course it does. I didn’t know you were still on it. I was sure that the guy was into you since that time in the restaurant.” She stifled a laugh. “But I’m proud of you for coming to this conclusion alone, after two months, and with three or four drinks gone already. So, what’s the plan, now ?”

Hinata felt pretty sleepy. It was also warm and cosy in the lobby. He leaned his head against Koizumi’s shoulder, who didn’t seem very happy about that.

“I’m warning you, if you vomit on my dress, you are cleaning it up ! And it doesn’t go to the machine, so have fun with that !”

Hinata replied something like ‘I don’t vomit, I’m awesome’, before remembering what Koizumi had asked him before.

“I decided to be friend with him,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think I could, but that sounds great. Komaeda is great. I can be friend a with him for a while. Then we can kiss and stuff.”

Koizumi pat his back awkwardly.

“If you say so. That said, I’m starting to think that you are not as hopeless as I thought you were. To see you learn is kinda moving, you know ? I feel like I’m making the world a better place, one poor soul at the time.”

“I feel like you are insulting me.” Hinata mumbled back.

He felt more than he saw Koizumi’s smile.

“As if. I would never. And I’m happy for you.”

Hinata smiled in return.

He was seriously starting to fall asleep when he heard steps coming from the stairs, and one second later, Komaeda rushed into the lobby… and stopped when he noticed them.

Hinata didn’t understand right away why Koizumi pushed him away from her, but then he saw the hurt, the hurt, Komaeda was hurt in the other’s eyes. Then, as soon as the expression appeared, it turned into his usual easy-going, untouchable persona.

“Hinata, Koizumi, good evening. I’m a bit tired, so I’ll head back early. You’ll say goodbye to Mioda for me ? She has been singing on the karaoke machine for the last thirty minutes, and I’m not sure when she’ll be done.”

Before even waiting for an answer, Komaeda disappeared. Koizumi whispered furiously to Hinata’s address.

“What are you waiting for ? Run after him ?”

“What ?” He replied, confused. “Why ?”

“You said you were done trying to make him jealous, right ?” Koizumi said. “Then run after him, and fix up this mess.”

Hinata nodded. That sounded like a solid argument. He stood up, but was stopped in his track by Koizumi’s hand catching his wrist.

“And for the love of god,” she said, “don’t make out with him. You stink of alcohol.”

Hinata offered her his most confident smile - though Koizumi didn’t seem too impressed. Leaning toward her, he whispered.

“You’re not my mom, and I make out with him if I want to !” He let out an extatic laugh. “I’m going to make out with his mouth. So hard.”

Koizumi rolled her eyes so hard Hinata wondered if that hurt.

“And I was starting to have hope.”

Hinata let out another chuckle, and ran outside the lobby. He didn’t have any time to waste : he had someone to fight for, after all.

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years

Text

317.

1. What type of criminal would you be? >> I’m not sure, I’ve never given it any thought.

2. What are you listening to right now? >> Nothing, but I can hear the workers working on the roof of another building in the complex and the sound is so obnoxious to me but I’ve been wearing my headphones for hours and I need to give my ear cartilage a break before I put them back on. I’m mostly trying to use the sound of my typing to distract myself from it, lol.

3. If you had to choose a stripper name, what would it be? >> Dorian Black. It’s not a very good one, I suppose, but it amuses me.

4. If your phone started ringing, who would you hope is calling? >> When my phone rings I feel nothing but annoyance.

5. Do you drink? >> Yes.

6. Do you smoke? >> No.

7. What is the first thing you notice in someone? >> That depends on who I’m noticing.

8. Do you get attached easily? >> To other people? Not at all. I develop interest in people -- not like “~romantic~” interest; when I say “interest” I mean “I think this person’s neat and I’d like to know more about them” -- pretty easily because I know what kind of people I like, but that’s not really attachment. It also fades just as easily as it’s developed.

9. Do you like your eye color? >> Yeah.

10. Have any stupid human tricks? >> I don’t think so...

11. Humor me. What physical ideal do you imagine in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? >> ---

12. What type of personality traits do you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? >> ---

13. Any other essential quirks/interests/other you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? >> ---

14. Any romantic gestures you really like? >> I’m pretty averse to romantic gestures.

15. Any sexual fantasies? Are you daring enough to share one? >> All my fantasies revolve around monsters and shit. Nothing that can be fulfilled outworld.

16. Have you ever been in love? >> Yeah.

17. Do you have a crush/romantic interest in anyone? >> No.

18. What’s your sexual orientation (if you feel comfortable answering)? >> Unquantifiable.

19. What’s your favorite color and why? >> Gold. It just makes me feel... exalted.

20. What was your most embarrassing moment? >> I don’t know.

21. Do you ever wish you were someone else? >> Occasionally, but it’s an empty thought.

22. What were you like when you were a kid? >> From what I recall -- I had an extremely flat affect and lack of social grace, considering most adults were a little unnerved by me and called me rude or sullen (and children, of course, bullied me mercilessly and unanimously); I preferred my own company and spent most of my energy and focus inworld; I could spend hours doing one little thing without getting restless; and I got very absorbed in my interests and would learn as much as I possibly could about them but had no patience for things that didn’t interest me.

23. What would your dream house be like? >> I don’t have a dream house.

24. What last made you laugh? >> I don’t remember.

25. Do you have a place you like to go to collect your thoughts? >> No, there’s no specific place I go to do that.

26. What is your favorite/least favorite word? >> ---

27. What turns you on? >> I’m not making you a list.

28. What turns you off? >> I’m also not making a list of this.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? >> No.

30. Would you go bungee jumping/sky diving if given the chance? >> Yeah, I’m pretty interested in those things.

31. Do you have any siblings? >> ---

32. Do you like to dance? >> I do.

33. What is your definition of cheating? >> I don’t have a personal definition for it, because like I said on another survey, I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel cheated on. But I’m pretty aware of other people’s definitions for it, so I’m not like, stupid.

34. Have you ever stolen anything? >> I’ve stolen many things. I used to be a bit of a career shoplifter (although nowhere near as accomplished or... fucking batshit lucky as my former friend).

35. Do you regret anything? >> No.

36. Do you have any phobias? >> No.

37. Ever broken any bones? >> No.

38. Ever come close to death? >> Probably.

39. What is your religion/spirituality, if any? >> I don’t really have any. I’m kind of just... doin my thing, you know how it is.

40. Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? >> Yeah.

41. Are looks important in a relationship? >> In a sexual one, yeah.

42. Are you more like your mom or your dad? >> --- 43. What is your favorite season? >> Spring.

44. Do you have any tattoos? >> Yes.

45. Do you have any piercings? >> Yes.

46. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? >> Hm.

47. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? >> Definitely.

48. What is your favorite thing to do? >> I have several things I like to do, but no one favourite.

49. If you could only visit one place outside of your hometown, where would it be? >> No way.

50. Do you get jealous easily? >> I’m not even sure I’m capable of it.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Five

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

September 16th, 2018

“Get out!” his father yelled.

Logan stared up at the man with wide eyes. “I...what?”

“Get out!” his father repeated, shoving a ratty backpack at Logan. “Start packing! If you’re not out of here by the time I’m back from grabbing dinner for my wife, I’ll call the cops!”

Logan stared at his father with wide eyes, uncomprehending. “You’re...kicking me out?!”

“You’re no longer welcome here,” his father bit. “Not until you can see that you are Jessica, not Logan.”

The bedroom door slammed shut and Logan scrambled to start packing. He didn’t bother with textbooks or anything for school, that was all packed in his backpack he took to school every day. He could hopefully take both with him and at least pretend that he had a house to go home to in the evening. He grabbed as many pairs of socks and underwear as he could, stuffed in a couple T-shirts and some jeans. He couldn’t stand any of his sweaters, so he shoved all the other clothes down so he could fit in two hoodies. He wore the third and final one he owned.

January 15th, 2019

Logan exited the car that Sarah was using to drive him to his new house. He was still in the same school district, so he’d be going to the same high school he’d been going to, and he’d get to see Jack Harkness, his best friend, five days out of the week. All in all, it wasn’t the worst situation he could be in.

As he walked around to the curb by the driveway, Sarah got out of the car and said, “Now, these two already are in the process of adopting another boy, so you may have to share space with him. I’m unfamiliar with his background, but I know that the Picanis are accepting and if Roman isn’t, they’ll keep him in line.”

Logan nodded at her just as the door to the house opened and a kid who couldn’t be older than twelve dashed out the door, jumping to a stop in front of Logan. He came up just above Logan’s chin, and he scrutinized Logan closely. When the boy opened his mouth, Logan braced himself for the inevitable comment about looking like a girl, but he just said, “You look like a nerd!”

“Uh...” Logan blinked. “I do care about my grades, I don’t know if it’s more or less than you do.”

The boy laughed. “Oh, you’re a nerd all right!”

Logan cracked a small smile. “You reek of prep, so I don’t imagine that grades are the first thing on your mind.”

“Ha!” The boy stuck his hand out. “Roman.”

Logan took it and gave it a firm shake. “Logan.”

Roman nodded. “Not a bad name,” he said.

“Thank you, I chose it myself,” Logan said with a smirk.

“Yeah, Mister Remy said you were transgender,” Roman said. “I’ll try to respect your pronouns, but uh...I might slip up at first. I’m just used to people with higher voices wanting to be called ‘Miss’ or ‘Ma’am’ rather than ‘Sir.’ It’s not because I don’t respect your identity! I just never knew someone who was transgender before. At least, someone who was pre-transition? Is that the right word?”

“Yeah, you got it right,” Logan said. “I’m impressed.”

“I asked Mister Emile lots of questions. He’s a therapist, so he has some experience with these sorts of things,” Roman said. “He knows a lot, although you probably know more, having to live it and all.”

Logan nodded absently. His attention had been drawn to the two men standing in the doorway of the house, looking him over. To size him up or to make sure he was okay, he wasn’t sure. “Is that them?” he asked.

Roman turned to look behind him. “Oh, yeah! The one with the sweastervest on is Mister Emile. The one with the shades always hanging off his shirt is Mister Remy. They’re both super nice.”

Logan scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. He felt glued to the ground, and he knew he should do something, or wave at least, but all he could do was stare.

“Hey, uh...Logan?” Roman asked.

“Hm?” Logan asked absently.

“Do you...like your hair that long?” Roman asked, pointing to his ponytail.

Logan felt at the ponytail and winced, suitably distracted from this new situation via dysphoria. “No. But my parents never let me cut it shorter than this. Claimed that I might want to braid it someday to look prettier and refused to listen when I said I didn’t want that at all.”

Roman nodded. “Would you want to go to the barbershop whenever I go? Mister Emile was trying to set up an appointment for me. I like my hair the way it is for the most part, but it’s getting a little long.”

Logan frowned. “You’d...they’d...let...me?”

Roman nodded. “More than let you. If they know you hate your hair, they’ll do nothing short of insist that you get it cut to your liking.”

Logan felt himself start to smile. “That’s awfully considerate.”

“They say that my comfort is a top priority, so I don’t see why yours wouldn’t be as well,” Roman said with an easy shrug. “I dunno what happens when our comforts don’t line up, but...”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “This...that sounds good.”

Sarah came over with Logan’s backpacks and set them on the ground. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you two boys to talking? I need to go over a few things with your foster parents.”

Roman waved her off and Logan merely nodded, feeling too choked up to speak. “You okay, Logan?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah. I...uh...I’m just not used to people being so accepting.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Roman said. “I honestly wasn’t expecting Mister Emile and Mister Remy to be as helpful as they have for me. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and they just...took me in, without a second thought.”

“I suppose the same can be said of me,” Logan said. “The man who used to be my father kicked me out. I’ve been living at my best friend’s house for three months.”

Roman wrinkled his nose. “I never had a dad. Well, obviously, I have Mister Remy and Mister Emile, but before I came here...I didn’t have anyone, really.”

Logan winced in sympathy. “I’ve been there,” he said.

The two boys stood there a moment, sizing each other up. Then, Roman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want to see your new room?” he asked.

Logan picked up his bags and nodded. “Sure.”

Roman led him inside and up the stairs to the second floor. There was one room with clothes everywhere, and another one which looked like a standard guest room next to it. “The empty one is yours,” Roman said, pointing. “I’m right next door, and the walls aren’t paper thin but they’re not super thick so try not to blast music, okay?”

“I don’t typically blast music, but I will attempt to be quiet at night,” Logan said, looking Roman over. They didn’t appear to have a lot in common physically, but he could in theory believe that they were brothers. “Thank you for giving me an excuse for being away from the adults for a moment.”

“It’s no problem!” Roman said brightly. “I’ve been needing an excuse away from them too. My first day of school is coming up and Mister Emile has been pushing me to study more to make sure I’m caught up with my class.”

“Well, not falling behind in classes is certainly important,” Logan said, frowning.

“I mean, sure, but I passed the placement exams with flying colors. They put me in advanced English and I don’t even need remedial math!” Roman scoffed. “Anything that I don’t understand I can ask my teacher about. Not a big deal.”

Logan tried to wrap his head around that concept. Back before he had gotten kicked out, he was always told he was too smart to ask for help from his parents, and that philosophy soon extended to his teachers. He hardly understood what “help” meant any more. “It’s not?” he asked.

Roman shrugged. “I mean, not to me. I don’t know about where you’ve been from, so it could be a big deal to you. But there’s no shame in asking for help. At least, you know, when it comes to school.”

“Are there other things that it’s not okay to ask help for?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged and looked away. “Usually if an adult assigned me a task that wasn’t school-related, I couldn’t ask for help, because I was their help. It wasn’t huge, it was just...like...chores and stuff. It was a little tiring, but I don’t know anyone who enjoys chores.”

Logan nodded, squinting his eyes. Roman wasn’t telling the whole story there. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. The trick was going to be getting him to admit it, if necessary. Because Logan didn’t want to push anything just yet, he sniffed and looked away, effectively dismissing his suspicion for the time being. “Well, I should probably unpack,” he said.

Roman nodded. “All right. I’ll be next door if you need help.”

Logan smiled and nodded, before walking into his room, closing the door, and letting out a shaky breath. There had been no time to be afraid after getting kicked out. He had his studies to worry about, to make sure that he had the scholarships to go to college. He had to help the Harknesses around the house to make sure he wasn’t kicked out. There were things to keep his mind occupied. He lived out of two backpacks and made sure that if he were kicked out again for whatever reason, he had money on hand and clothes already packed.

Now, though? He had to unpack, just enough to make these people convinced that he was planning on staying. He didn’t know if he had another part to play, or work to do outside school. He had time to worry, to let the impact of what happened finally sink in. He had felt little inklings of this terror when he had first been kicked out, but he had shoved them down. Now, he had no such luxury. His situation was rearing its ugly head, and the fact that he was now in foster care was hitting him full force. His parents weren’t going to call, say they made a mistake, and let him back in. He was well and truly on his own the second he turned eighteen.

He collapsed onto his bed and felt himself crying. He tried to steady his breathing, to just take one deep breath, but it wasn’t working. He was petrified, and hurt, and he had no idea how he was supposed to keep going when his plans for his future had been so rudely ripped from underneath him.

If asked how long he sat there just panicking later, Logan would say he had absolutely no idea. But eventually, when someone knocked on his door a couple times and didn’t get a response, one of the men from before came in, rushed to his side, and helped him through some breathing exercises. And after a while, it did work to calm him down. He still felt devastated, but he felt less like he was going to puke. The man, the one he had seen before with curly ginger hair, offered him a small smile. “Feel better, Logan?”

The fact that this man used his actual name nearly sent him crying again, but he just nodded and wiped at his eyes. “My apologies,” he muttered. “Everything just sort of...hit me at once.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” the man said. “But rest assured, we won’t be like your last family. We accept you for whoever you are.”

Logan nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Roman said you might want to get your hair cut whenever he goes?” the man asked. “If you don’t like your hair long, then you don’t have to keep it that way.”

“That sounds nice,” Logan said softly. “I’ve always wanted my hair shorter, for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, you can have it that way, hopefully by the weekend. Remy knows a guy at the barbershop who owes him one. He can probably squeeze you both in.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

The man smiled. “Well, then, it’s settled. We’ll head down to the barbershop this week and get your hair cut. It’ll be okay. Deep breaths, all right, Logan?”

Logan nodded again.

“Oh, and don’t feel the need to unpack yet if you don’t want to,” the man said. “If it makes you feel better to have some stuff packed up and ready to go, then by all means, keep it packed.”

“Thanks,” Logan said. “Uh, what should I call you?”

“You can call me whatever your comfortable with,” the man said. “Roman calls me Mister Emile, and he calls Remy Mister Remy. You can do that, you can call us both Mister Picani, because I took Remy’s last name when we married, although that could get confusing. But the point is that neither Remy nor I are picky.”

“All right. Thank you,” Logan said.

“No need to keep thanking me, I’m doing what I like to imagine any half-decent dad would do. If you want, you can come downstairs, Roman and Remy are watching some football game or another, but you’re free to do whatever you want,” Mister Emile said.

“Do you have any books?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, we have quite a few. Fiction or nonfiction?”

“Either. I just like reading,” Logan said.

Mister Emile nodded. “Well, let’s go downstairs and see if you like anything, huh?”

“Sure,” Logan said with a small smile. Maybe this was going to be okay.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #roman sanders #emile picani #our creations #danger gays

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